Off the Record: What the eye doesn't see

By Roberta Gubbins
Legal News

“You do realize, Roberta,” said Stacia Buchanan as we stood talking at a local Ingham County Bar event, “that in the story about the First Annual Barristers Night, you gave the winners of the ‘Top 5 under 35’ award, the plague rather than a plaque. I, myself, chose bubonic.”
“I never saw that,” said Judge Tom Boyd joining our conversation, “I read plaque not plague.”
Clearly I never noticed that I had inflicted five of Ingham County’s bright young lawyers with a pestilence rather than a lovely crystal plaque complete with commemorative inscription. I do apologize.
We know that the eye often sees what it wants not always what is there. Or, maybe the eye sees an object or word accurately and unemotionally but the view becomes something else by the time the brain registers what is seen.
I really have no clue how eyes work, but I do know my eye did not see the mistaken word. And spell check doesn’t help because it does not know what I meant.
The computer, like the eye, is not intuitive—it sees what is without casting judgment or interpreting what is meant. Our brains try to make sense of what we see but computers, no matter how like Hal they may sound, do not have the ability to decipher.
All that means is that those of us who deal with words must take care so that the star performers in our articles or stories are given an accolade not an affliction.
Stephen King in his book on writing—a highly entertaining and informative how to book—advises letting the story age for six weeks and then taking it out to read with fresh eyes. He also tells the writer to read the words backwards and out-loud. While I respect his opinion and his methods and am sure they are well worth following, I do not have six weeks to let a story ripen into a brilliant piece of writing. I must produce every week.
Fortunately, most of my readers are human. Their eyes see what they expect to see. If I used sea instead of see, they might notice, however, words such as plague and plaque, scull or skull, if I put a knave in a nave or I write about a rite, those homophones are not so apt to be noticed by the reader with little time and a desire to be either entertained or enlightened, if only briefly.
For that I am eternally grateful, since I am almost certain to misuse, misplace, or misspell words in the future and it is nice to know that you, my readers, may not notice; that your brains will rectify my errors as your eyes scan the results of my efforts.
Or, if you notice, you will correct, read on, and send me a little note informing me of my transgressions with a touch of forgiveness. For that I thank each and every one of you.