Introducing The Erratum

Every so often, when something I write starts to sound a little too tidy,
a little too confident,
or perhaps a little too right,

you may notice an interruption.

That interruption is The Erratum.

He’s not a troll.
He’s not a critic.
He’s definitely not the author in disguise pretending to argue with himself.

The Erratum is a foil — a small, laughing, human reminder that every thought is partial, every perspective incomplete, and every good idea worth holding lightly.

You’ll recognize him by a few traits:

• He appears in the margins, not the throne room.
• He raises eyebrows, not verdicts.
• He delights in moments where certainty gets a bit stiff.
• He laughs — often and loudly — especially when we take ourselves too seriously.

The Erratum exists for one simple reason:
to keep conversation alive.

He may ask awkward questions.
He may point out places where something sounds better inside my head than outside it.
He may occasionally say, “Technically…” and then start laughing before he finishes the sentence.

Importantly:

• He does not get the last word.
• He does not claim authority.
• He cannot end a conversation — only reopen it.

If you ever see him show up, it’s usually a sign that:

• a thought is still unfinished,
• a conclusion could use some breathing room,
• or joy has spotted an opening.

If he ever annoys you, that’s okay.
If he makes you laugh, even better.
If he makes you reconsider something without feeling pushed — he’s doing his job.

Think of him as punctuation, not prose.
A footnote with a grin.
A reminder that life is more interesting when we leave room to miss something.

Now that you’ve met him, you’ll know what’s happening when he clears his throat.

(And if he ever sounds too certain… feel free to laugh at him too.)