Tempted to point out someone else's errors? I've learned the hard way the best policy is to bite my tongue and shut my mouth. Why is this so hard for me to do? Especially since there is always a chance I'm the one who is wrong.
Those of us who have adult children already know we're likely to encounter eye rolls at best when we tell them what to do. I've come to love my father's comment: "I don't hesitate to give advice to my daughters, because the chances of them hearing it, let alone taking it is so remote it can't possibly hurt them.
That said, I'll skip the kids and stick to the wisdom or folly of pointing out errors in another person's writing and give a few pointers as to how to do it well, and when to abstain completely. Here's some examples of when I waded right in when I should have abstained or used some common sense:
1. Dial it down. (This was huge) My third mystery, Hidden Heritage, was riddled with errors. I was livid and mortified. I fired off a three page letter to everyone at the press, detailing every single mistake and gave ample proof that the copy I sent had been pristine. It was perfect. It turned out the overworked editor had not sent the corrected galley to the printer. I generated a lot of ill will because of my flaming indignation. I should have dialed it down. My agent was appalled at how I handled the situation. Ironically, Kirkus Reviews singled it out as one of the best mysteries, and one of the best fiction books of 2013.
2. Don't assume they want help. A friend sent me a novel asking to use my name as a reference when he was scouting for an agent. I foolishly read his book and gave a lot of advice on how to improve the book. He didn't want my advice. He wanted to use my name as a reference. Period. This was a tough one. I could see at once the need for structural changes and was dying to help.
3. If they already know, shut up. I recently took it upon myself to tell our priest that a website link in our bulletin was wrong. That was silly. It was probably the umpteenth time someone mentioned it. No need to rub it in.
Only the other hand, there have been a number of times when I've managed to shut up because of intuition. A young woman with a great voice brought me a novel that I could have improved a lot. I didn't say so. She'll be fine. She had an MFA and it was the wrong time in her life to hear criticism.
Thinking about this post, I didn't point out some copy errors to one of my favorite magazine editors. The stakes were too high. Some other reader will do this for me. In the meantime, I want to keep publishing with this house.
Ironically, when I pointed out an error to Dr. Quintard Taylor at BlackPast, it helped my reputation as a careful academic. The Kansas African American, E.P. McCabe, usually signed papers with these initials. An article on the website referred to him as Edwin. I proved his name was Edward. How? I found his signature on the form granting him authority to be a Justice of the Peace. Victory! But historians are another breed of cat.
There's an error on a plaque at the prestigious, stunning Charles Russell Museum. Should I tell them? Probably. On the plague beside the Fire Boat picture there's a reference to "sing language." I'll bet it should read "sign language."
The problem with errors is that we can't see our own mistakes.
There are errors in this post. I've gone over it several times. I can't see any. Go right ahead and have at it loyal readers. That's what our comments section is for.
