Life is more like Kindle than hardcopy. Everyone needs an editor, part 2.

To begin 2014, I wrote about 40 life lessons I had learned. Day 20 was “Have someone edit you.”

A few days ago, we launched Life Cartography, the Book.

Lifecartography launch day

Since then, the book has gotten great content reviews.

The one complaint is typos. They are the bane of my existence. Seriously. I had multiple editors read through before we launched. The night before the launch, I was up till midnight changing multiple things.

But still they remain. Typos.

For some people, typos don’t matter. For others, typos throw off the whole reading experience. So I’ve got to fix them.

The beauty of digital printing on Kindle is that I can upload a new version at any time, and the corrections are pushed out to everyone who has a copy of the book. Once something has gone to a standard print system, the errors are there. Only a reprint can change the errors.

Too often, we act as if our mistakes are like a hard copy print. They determine our future. As long as you are living though, most “typos” can be corrected. Sure, there are life decisions you can’t go back and change. (Marriage, kids, etc).

But you can apologize for those words spoken in anger. You can repair that friendship. You can sell that ugly car and get another one.

In coming up to 2015, I need some new resolutions. Resolutions are good. But without someone to point out the typos in my life, I may never get to the place where people will hear the story I want to tell because the typos are getting in the way.

Everyone needs a editor. Or two. or five. Close friends who can call you on your stuff. A solid counselor who can give you good advice. And finally an openness to the voice of the divine in your life.

One thought on “Life is more like Kindle than hardcopy. Everyone needs an editor, part 2.”

  1. “I haven’t seen you in these parts,” the barkeep said, sidling over to where I sat. “Personage’s Bao.” He stated it exuberantly, as if low-down of his exploits were shared aside settlers about assorted a fire in Aeternum.

    He waved to a expressionless hogshead beside us, and I returned his gesticulate with a nod. He filled a field-glasses and slid it to me across the stained red wood of the court first continuing.

    “As a betting man, I’d be willing to wager a honourable speck of silver you’re in Ebonscale Reach on the side of more than the wet one’s whistle and sights,” he said, eyes glancing from the sword sheathed on my hip to the bow slung across my back.

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