One of my great pleasures in life is reading. I love it. Always have, always will. There is literally nothing better than sitting in the shady part of my horse’s paddock on a hot summer’s day, beer in one hand, book in the other and horse looming over top my head. The small thrill of danger I get from my horse standing so close while I’m wearing flip flops is just the icing on the cake 😉 -anyone with a horse knows what I’m talking about.
The one little thing that could make that all better?
When there’s a typo in that book.
I may or may not cackle with malicious glee when I find a typo.
I look at published books as the Holy Grail. That’s where I want to be. To me, those books have achieved a certain level of perfection and that level of perfection is what lead them to being published. When I’m reading a book there is a small part of me that is seething with jealousy; drooling at that author’s perceived success because they have been published. So, when I see a typo, some type of grammatical or spelling mistake, I immediately feel something similar to what I imagine evil villains feel when they come up with a new diabolical plan – you know, before it gets thwarted by the likes of Scooby Doo or Inspector Gadget.
Because, to my twisted way of thinking, their error knocks them down to a level that I could one day attain. It makes my dream possible again. There’s even a little voice that says maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll be better than them.