On today's show, Lino Rulli mentioned that he found yet another grammatical mistake in his upcoming autobiography Sinner (preorder links at the top and side of this blog), and how it frustrated him.

He wanted to be the one author that didn't have those kinds of mistakes in a book that he spent so long working on. On the surface, it's easy to dismiss Lino's contempt for mistakes as foolish. "What's wrong with you Lino, stop being such a perfectionist."

I initially thought that, but then took the time to think of my own life. How many times do I strive for perfection, fail, and get annoyed by it. True, I don't have an autobiography coming out in the next few months, but I design the bulletin for Fr. Jim's campus ministry each week, and when there's a flaw, I get so frustrated. True, most people don't care that one photo has part of it's caption in bold while the other does not, but I see the mistake as something I messed up. I see the mistake as a flaw in my work, which eats away at me until I create the next bulletin.

How then is Lino any different from me, or the person who panics that the cupcakes they made for guests didn't turn out 100 percent correct? Or the soccer player that scores two goals but whifs on the third and focuses only on the miss? He's not any different than someone who loves and cherishes what they do each day.

If anything, hearing Lino's complaints about bad grammar makes me even more anxious to read the book. If he spent that much time worrying about grammar, how much more did he worry about the book's content? This is a man who spent Christmas break in a monastery just to write.

If that commitment to excellence doesn't excite you to buy the book, then you must hate literature.