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Nobody likes to realise they were wrong. I’ll be the first to shoot my hand sky high into the air and admit I hate learning I was wrong about something. It’s a part of myself I’ve had to work on and learn more about because the truth is? I’m wrong. All. The. Time.
We all are. We just don’t like admitting it.
From the mundane things, like insisting to my partner we have fresh milk at home, so no need to stop off at the local shop (we did not have fresh milk at home) to giving inaccurate advice to someone which they then act on to the detriment of their own progress.
It’s the latter that’s obviously problematic for several reasons. In our online spheres, we are majoritively blameless. We can say and write near-enough anything we want, handing out advice to strangers like sweets — without having to really do any work to merit the validity of that advice. A recent example of this was in a writing group I was a part of; I saw someone advising another writer about different platforms to use to publish their work. Some of the information the person provided was inaccurate and outdated, and the person receiving this information seemed confused. I thought I’d step in to…
