Browsing The New York Times online this morning, this small-sized headline popped up.
No corrections appeared in print on Monday, February 16, 2015.
Envy surged. Really? Not a single error in an entire multi-paged, 140,000- give-or-take words publication. My eyes glazed green, since I could list several goofs without even reviewing the previous day’s “Sent E-mails.”
Had I been too bold in that suggestion about dealing with a numb-skulled co-worker?
Did I run on too long when describing why I’m hooked on the British Bake-off Show?
Did I confess too much — or more than X cared about — when recalling an error-riddled old work document?
Was I brusque to my mother when I listed the tasks of the week?
Then–let’s turn to fiction. A new beginning for the novel that has become an entire fleet of albatrosses woke me early and kept me that way. Can a teen-ager see an explosion, hear screams, smell burning flesh, and then move on to chapter 2? Not so easily. Corrections will be needed.
And since “possibly better versions” seem to occupy a large portion of my mind, the revisions will be many and absorb more hours than I can imagine.
I expect never to live a “no corrections needed” day, but since my real passion is solving problems, I’m probably in the correct business.