Okay, I lied, said I wasn’t gone post again till the manuscript was finished, but this is too funny to keep to myself.
When writing a reference guide to Women’s Nonfiction, one must endeavor to catch typos and spelling errors BEFORE sending the draft to the editor. I have just learned this the hard way.
There I am, skimming through Chapter Three (“Health, Wellness, and Beauty”), looking for my editor’s comments on the section titled “Sexual Health and Satisfaction.”
Now we’re all adults here, we are too mature to be discomfited by topics of a personal nature, leastaways if those topics are addressed in the context of professional writing. Right? Right?
Bugger if I didn’t just about die from mortification, though. Seems I’d added an extra “i” to the, ah, the word “clitoral” in my discussion of The Clitoral Truth, by Rebecca Chalker. To have one’s editor, one’s male editor, one’s male editor old enough to be one’s father highlight the misspelled “clitorial” and say “It’s spelled clitoral” is…
…is why I’m not a nationally recognized sex expert. In the privacy of my own home, in the process of editing– editing! the least sexy job EVER!– I blushed like a schoolgirl.
I suppose there may be a few other reasons why I’m not a nationally recognized sex expert, but in deference to personal pride this shall be the one I acknowledge. It is not a matter of inexperience, heavens no, nor of inadequacy nor insufficient knowledge; the only reason I don’t have my own radio sex talk show is that I am charmingly, disarmingly modest.
This comes from the same woman who discussed, publicly, in rather vivid detail, her mishap with the folding cot and the nipple ring, but we don’t have time to consider possible inconsistencies of logic because, wow, lookit the time, gotta get back to the book bye!