I have had to face the fact that I will always be the girl with a little stain on her shirt or tear in her pants. The one who posts on social media with misspelled words and horrible grammar. I will always have it mostly together but never all the way. And so it happens, I published a whole ass book with a big ass typo.
The book has been out since January and it took my son being bored and deciding to read it to locate the mistake. He showed me very late on a school night. We laughed and I thanked him for pointing it out. He went to bed and off to sleep, I sat up all night embarrassed and mortified. I kept it to myself for a day or so before I texted my publisher, Heather. I still haven’t mentioned it to anyone else, save a couple of friends. I can not believe that it slipped through several edits. I can’t believe I haven’t read my own book from cover to cover since it was printed. But, truth be told, I am tired of my story. I have moved so far past it that, other than readings and posts on social media, I don’t think about it much. Yes I want to sell my book, yes I want to have people read it. But damn, I am a whole other person now. A whole other person that didn’t catch a major fuck up.
But you know what? I am an only parent, raising a kid all alone. I work 40 plus hours a week. I maintain a home, a social life for both me and my son. I use my lunch breaks to drive him to and from school and various appointments and lessons and his work. I am teaching him to drive, we are looking at colleges. I grocery shop and walk a dog 23 times a day. I won't even go into hours spent on side hustles. And I am actively grieving the loss of my dad, who passed four days after the book's release. I am tired and overwhelmed on a daily basis. Something is always missing or coming up short. Heather is equally as busy and overwhelmed. So you know what? Fuck it. I wrote and published a book in the midst of a whole ass life. And it had a typo. I am still a writer. I am still a poet. I deserve love and grace, and nothing less.
I appreciate all who have read my story. I appreciate all who have moved past the mistake and not made an issue of it. I appreciate all who love me despite my little imperfections. It was an act of bravery to share my story and a true act of vulnerability to own my "oops."
That being said, we are printing a new, second edition, typo free. If you have the first edition, congratulations, it is now the collectors edition. You are welcome. The mistake free one is available at all online shops effective now.
So here is what we will do: Since September is my birthday month and I love to extend my birthday as long as possible every year, for the rest of the month, like this post, share it, and shoot me a message with the page number of the typo. On September 30, 2023 we will put all of the responses in a hat and draw a name. The winner will receive a signed copy of the book (whichever edition you would like) and a $25 Amazon gift card.
If I am anything I am human and so are you. We all deserve to be seen and cared for. We all fuck up, sometimes in little ways and sometimes in big embarrassing ways. But it is the human condition and it is also what makes us all perfectly imperfect. I have stopped apologizing for my humanness and I have stopped expecting anything other than authenticity from those around me. I am not sorry for the mistake. It took nothing from my story, if anything it proves my point, in adversity and trauma, you can still hold space for happiness and contentment.
I have come to realize that I will always be the girl with the stain on her shirt and misspelled Facebook posts. And that is just fine.
Big-Ass-Oops
