Show me a typo in a book I’ve edited or published, a blurb I’ve sent to an author, a letter I’ve painstakingly composed, or a note I’ve scrawled to remind me to do something, and I will feel like you’ve taken my firstborn. I will be heartbroken, crestfallen, consumed with self-pity, and utterly, utterly furious. Because there is nothing more crushing, more bruising, more humiliating, more mortifying, or more upsetting—to an editor, at least—than a typo.