It seems I am cursed to remain the Typo Queen of the Universe.
I try, I really do. I spell check. Edit. Pause. Reread. Look at every red underline I find, yet typos still get into my post.
I remember one book I submitted that I thought was the absolute most perfect thing ever. My editor called me and suggested I hire a proofreader because the thing was riddle with typos.
I don’t get it. Do I read in tongues or something? Maybe Martian? A language I’m making up?
I know I can see and read. I can spot a 50% off sign in Macy’s a mile away. I can dig out a 20% off coupon to add to that from the black hole of my handbag in a power outage. I can spot a hottie who looks like Hugh Jackman or Zach Quinto or Keanu Reeves three blocks away and them cross the street without being hit by a car so he can pass me on the sidewalk and I can enjoy what his mama gave him. J.
So why can’t I see typos?
Someone told me that people who write a lot see what they think is right. If the first and last letter is correct, those between them must be also. It’s the only explanation I have.
Maybe an exorcism.