Editorial Ponzi scheme

I was talking with an editorial colleague today about the feeling we get when we find a somewhat obscure error in a text, whether it's a newspaper article or a more permanent medium, such as a book. I think superiority is a good description. It's a cross of "How could they be so stupid/blind?" and "I'm sure glad I'm not that stupid/blind. Also, if it were profitable for me, that company should hire me."

In an experience based society, we always crave the next high, and that little charge that grammarians get when they catch a mistake can carry them for a while. It's almost like a currency, it's so valuable. But there's a problem.

Inevitably, I will miss a mistake in a manuscript I'm working on, or in my valorous editorial work, I will introduce an error. Somehow, it becomes just a mistake for me, and that's natural, and it's okay, and I'll do better next time, and really, seriously, believe me, please, I'm not stupid or incompetent.

Notice how when the paper is in my wallet, it's not currency? In the hands of the uphill editor, there's no value, but when the text is presented to another, there is suddenly opportunity for real value. But the value is not real. That person could hand the text down the line to someone who will find a different error that the previous editor insists doesn't mean much.

When dealing in a medium of exchange for commodities or services, this is criminal fraud—that only stupid people get involved with, right?

What makes it so different when we deal this way in words and ideas? I do get annoyed with the declining editorial standards in media, but I have been learning to not place a value on others' mistakes. I try to give them the benefit of the doubt that I so generously offer myself.

We should all strive for excellence, but not for the purpose of propping up insecure egos. Otherwise, absorbed in hedging our own egotistic positions, we will collectively turn out such poor quality work that we end up with zero value.

Water and bridges

I was typing an e-mail the other day, and I naturally felt the urge to combine two cliches in a unique and thought-provoking (to me) way. Okay, so, natural for me, but probably just weird to the reader and everyone else.

However, I enjoy the result of the combination, as it describes the nexus of time and event. People who obsess over personality often term themselves or others as "time-oriented" or "event-oriented." While my new not-yet-cliche doesn't deal specifically with that aspect of personality, it brings an awareness of time and an attention to the event. Yet it's also a bit carefree about time, and given the usual context of the central cliche, it gives a strange sense of preregret. After all the setup . . .

We'll cross the water going under that bridge when we come to it.