09.27.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 1:45 pm by Administrator
Onomatopoeia: 1. Formation of words in imitation of natural sounds (as buzz or hiss). 2. The use of words whose sound suggests the sense.
(Definition from The Merriam-Webster Dictionary.)
Onomatopoeia has been my favorite word for about twenty-five years now. I first learned this word as a sophomore in high school, when we were studying Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Bells.” Very few snippets of poetry have stuck in my head over the years, and this is one of them:
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells—
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.
Please understand, I’m not saying “The Bells” is my favorite poem, but it is the only poem that has ever given me an earworm. It’s a poem you need to recite if you want the full effect. I can still hear my tenth-grade English teacher gleefully saying “tintinnabulation” and “the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.” (Hint: If you want to know if your new friend or blind date is a word nerd, just say “tintinnabulation” over dinner. If your companion picks up and begins reciting “The Bells,” you’ve got a winner. If he or she stares at you like you’re insane, you may want to skip dessert and ask for the check.)
“The Bells,” with all its sound-words, is perfect for introducing onomatopoeia. It’s almost as if Edgar decided very deliberately to write a piece that would fit under the heading “Onomatopoeia” in English textbooks.
But none of that explains why onomatopoeia is my favorite word. It’s simple, really. Onomatopoeia has great mouth feel. All those O’s rolling over your tongue—what fun! Go on, say it out loud. Tintinnabulation is fun too, but it’s a little too “tinkly” for my taste.
Consider this a reminder that English shouldn’t always be taken seriously. Words can be building blocks, but they can also be playthings. Take some time to play today.
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09.25.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 7:26 pm by Administrator
“Yes,” he smiled.
Oh, did he really? He didn’t “say” or “reply” or even “mumble”? He just smiled and words came out, huh? Imagine that.
In case you couldn’t tell, this is another thing that drives me nuts. I’m smiling now, and no words are coming out, which leads me to think that “smiled” is not an actual dialogue tag. Neither is “laughed” or “chuckled.” I know this because I have personally tested it, in the presence of other editors (yes, this is the sort of thing we talk about), and we have definitively concluded that one cannot smile, laugh or chuckle words.
I know some people—quite a few people, in fact—think I’m being too strict. I’m seeing variations of “Yes,” he smiled more and more often. I’ve seen it in print quite a few times, so shouldn’t I just smile and let it go? Letting it go would certainly make my job easier.
This is the sort of bind editors get caught in sometimes. Is “Yes,” he smiled a perfectly fine construction simply because it is so common? Am I letting my personal preferences dictate how I edit someone else’s sentence? I like to think I am helping to delay the downfall of our civilization by changing “Yes,” he smiled to “Yes.” He smiled. or “Yes,” he said, smiling, but deep down I know I’m not having much of an impact. Even deeper down, I know that a certain segment of the English-speaking population might argue that in this case “said” is implied, understood, and unnecessary.
“Oh, bother,” I sigh, frowning.
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09.23.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 6:52 pm by Administrator
Editing is more than correcting spelling and grammar. A good editor doesn’t work only with words and punctuation, although those are our basic materials. No, a good editor will always remember that there is an author behind those materials. Sometimes, if you’re on deadline or working on a particularly challenging piece, it’s hard to keep the author in mind; you have to get the work done, it has to be right, and it has to finished tomorrow. Other times, it’s impossible not to keep the author in mind.
Thousands upon thousands of people write. They put their lives, their dreams, their imaginings on paper, and sometimes that work comes to me. I have read agonizing stories of child abuse, of men and women caring for a seriously ill spouse or child, of people losing themselves in drug and alcohol abuse. I’ve also read fun or romantic or compelling novels that writers worked on for ten years and never showed to anyone because they were afraid the writing wasn’t any good. Many of these writers are quite talented; others are just average folks who want to tell a story. My job is to help them, and I believe the best way to do that is to think of this work as a privilege.
Thinking this way is not difficult. After all, writers are allowing me—little old me—to wade into their stories and change things around. Tinkering with someone else’s writing is not to be taken lightly. Many writers are shy creatures—at least about their writing—and I might be the first person in the world to read their work. That is certainly a privilege, and one I take seriously.
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09.20.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 11:13 am by Administrator
I discovered this little book just last week. And no, it’s not really about a barking dog. The subtitle is The Quirky History and Lost Art of Diagramming Sentences, which explains why this book became an instant favorite of mine.
If you’ve been paying close attention to Adventures in Editing, you may remember that I loved diagramming sentences in school. Actually, I like diagrams of all kinds: illustrated timelines, scientific illustrations showing how viruses kill, the instructions that came with my futon, you name it. Of course I also like words, and I like putting words together, so when I first learned how to make diagrams showing how words go together—well, let’s just say I was a very happy word nerd.
I’d never wondered about how sentence diagramming got started, and I thank Kitty Burns Florey for teaching me things I never imagined I would want to know. Actually, diagramming began in the nineteenth century, when, says Florey, self-improvement meant learning good grammar, penmanship, and manners, as opposed to repeating affirmations and aligning yourself with the energy of the universe. (For the record, my grammar and manners are pretty good, my penmanship is atrocious, there are a couple of affirmations I find helpful, and my energy is slightly out of whack.)
One of the first forms of diagramming put the words inside little bubbles instead of on those nice straight lines many of us learned in middle school. Honestly, right now I couldn’t diagram a complex sentence to save my life, but I do remember how much I loved making those lines and putting words on them. Putting words in bubbles seems so flighty, so—I was going to say “French” but I think I’ll go with “cartoonish.” I can say with absolute certainty that if the bubbles had caught on in diagramming, diagramming would not have caught on with me.
Do schools still teach sentence diagramming? I don’t know. Florey says diagramming is not as popular as it was in the 1950s and 1960s. I was in school in the 1980s and got a healthy dose of diagramming. For years I was convinced that those hours of putting words in their places helped me understand how to write a good sentence, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe the diagramming was merely a reinforcement of the grammar I already knew. Or maybe it was just a new way to play with words. Then again, playing is a great way to learn, isn’t it?
Speaking of playing with words, if you do nothing else with Sister Bernadette’s Barking Dog, at least take a look at the diagram of a sentence from Monty Python’s “All-England Summarize Proust Competition” (pages 84 and 85). Imagine getting that on a final exam!
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09.18.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 8:04 pm by Administrator
Once in a while I come across a typo that is more than a typo. If you’re creative, one misspelled word can spark an idea that takes on a life of its own.
Such was the case a couple of days ago when I came across a reference to “Marine book camp” in my editing. Now, I have read quite a few books about boot camp—and by the way, it’s always Marine boot camp, which leads me to think that basic training for the Army, Navy and Air Force just doesn’t make a lasting impression on the recruits (I could be wrong about this). The point is, I’ve never been to boot camp myself, but I almost feel as though I have, and unless the Marine Corps is trying something new, “Marine book camp” is totally off the wall—but sort of a neat idea.
Picture this: You arrive at book camp with a busload of fellow recruits. As you step off the bus, you are greeted by a mean, ugly drill instructor wearing a Smokey the Bear hat. Oh, and he has bad breath. Sergeant Mean-and-Ugly immediately gets in your face and begins screaming at you…and some of the things he says, oh my: “Hey, scumbag! Plant your nose in that book and read! Faster, faster! Move, move, move!” “Hey, scumbag! Recite Hamlet’s ‘To be or not to be’ soliloquy—backwards!”
Okay, maybe “neat idea” was not the best way to describe our fictitious Marine book camp. “Different” might be better. Or how about “bizarre”? “Scary”? If Sergeant Mean-and-Ugly called me a scumbag and demanded I recite “To be or not to be” backwards, I would probably cry—either that or spit on his shoe, which would undoubtedly be a bad move.
Then there is the possiblity that book camp isn’t about reading at all. Imagine a writing camp run with military precision. “Hey, scumbag! Is that a participle you’re dangling? Do you find that amusing? Drop and give me fifty!” Imagine a platoon of disciplined writers leaping from their bunks at 4:30 every morning to write a thousand words before breakfast… Nah, that’s too crazy; we at least need a cup of coffee before we can create anything.
I could go on and on with the book camp idea, and maybe someday I will. For now, just know that I’ve learned to appreciate good typos, even if they do sometimes pull my attention away from my actual job.
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09.16.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 10:12 am by Administrator
Please notice the word “tried” in the title. This should give you a clue that I was not successful. Oh, I didn’t fail or anything as horrible as that; actually I did quite well and probably would have earned high marks and graduated with honors had I continued down the road of the English major. The problem was I hated that road. Hated it.
You may be wondering how someone who hated English could end up as an editor. Well, “hated English” isn’t really accurate. I enjoy reading and writing and editing. I even enjoy reading about reading and writing and editing. I’m not so crazy about writing about what I just read—unless I absolutely loved it—and I’m really not crazy about sitting around talking about what I just read—again, unless I loved it. My two-semester career as an English major was nothing but talking and writing about things I’d read, none of which I loved. The classes (except Brit Lit II, taught by a fun, down-to-earth woman whose name I have unfortunately forgotten) were boring and I just couldn’t take it anymore.
Imagine my frustration, to realize my major wasn’t right for me—again. I had already switched majors—and colleges—after a similar two-semester career as a biology major. Academically, I had hit the wall. I decided to put the whole college thing aside for a while, which turned out to be the first intelligent thing I did in my life. For the next ten years I worked in one stinky job (raising rats and mice) and one awesome job (landscaping), read a lot, and tried to write when I felt inspired (in other words, not very often).
Finally I was ready to go back to school. This time I knew I wanted to write and edit, preferably about cool stuff like archaeology, history and the earth sciences. I never even considered trying to be an English major. Instead, I ended up as an ancient studies major with a writing minor—another intelligent move. I grew as a writer, I was never bored, I learned things I may never use again—but you never know. Most importantly, I ended up working with words, which is where my talent has always been.
I guess you could say I took the scenic route to editing. How appropriate—I never have liked highways!
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09.13.08
Posted in Editorial Musings, The Word at 8:34 pm by Administrator
“I go to work everyday.” “Low prices everyday!”
This very common mistake falls in the category of “things that make me want to poke my eyes out.” I know that seems like an extreme reaction, but I am passionate about certain things. The fact that we’re all bombarded every day with the misuse of everday is not helping me, or you, our impressionable children, or anyone who is just learning the ropes of the English language.
To review, “everyday” is an adjective meaning “encountered or used every day; ordinary.”
“Every day” (two words) means “each day.”
So you might say, “I wear my everyday clothes every day” (i.e., “I wear my ordinary clothes each day”), but you probably wouldn’t say, “I wear my each day clothes ordinary.” Some of you might wear your each day clothes ordinary, but I’ll bet most of you wear even your everyday clothes with style and panache. I certainly do.
For some reason, many people have trouble putting that space in “every day.” Perhaps their thumbs are too exhausted to hit the space bar, or maybe emptiness disturbs them so much they just can’t handle seeing that little space. For the first condition, I recommend a multivitamin, daily exercise and a good night’s sleep; for the second, I recommend meditation and frequent stargazing.
Please, I like my eyes; don’t make me poke them out.
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09.09.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 10:05 pm by Administrator
Watership Down is my absolute all-time favorite book. Usually when I tell people this, they look at me strangely and say, “But it’s so depressing.” Other people say, “But it’s about rabbits.” My response: This book is not depressing, and what’s wrong with rabbits? Seriously, who doesn’t like bunny rabbits?
In case you’re not familiar with the story, Watership Down follows a small group of rabbits who leave their home warren to escape a great danger that may—or may not—be coming. Led by a young buck named Hazel, the adventurers travel through difficulty, fear and doubt, they lose their way, and eventually they find the perfect home, only to nearly lose it. I don’t think I’ll be spoiling anything by telling you things turn out okay. I say this even though there is a death at the end, and I stubbornly maintain that even death can be an example of “things turning out okay.” If my own ending is as perfect as Hazel’s, I’ll count myself fortunate to have lived a good life.
Why is Watership my favorite book? That’s hard to explain. I first read Watership Down when I was about thirteen. I read most of it while serving after-school detention for skipping school (I hated school). I didn’t recognize the impact it was having on me at the time, but when I finished the book I closed the cover, sat there for a few minutes, then turned back to the first page and started reading it again. Since then, I’ve read Watership Down at least once a year, and every time I finish it I want to turn back to page one and do it all again. I have never felt that way about any other book.
I truly don’t understand why so many people find Watership depressing. For me, Watership is about courage and perseverance; it’s about standing up to do the things you feel compelled to do in life, even though those things are hard; it’s about not settling for what’s easy and comfortable. I read Watership Down whenever I’m facing some difficulty or uncertainty. This is the book that got me through adolescence, through relationships that ended badly, through cancer. When I need a little push to keep me going, this is the book I think of. Honestly, at some point every single day some snippet of Watership Down—a scene, a quote, a stirring moment—floats through my thoughts. The only way this book could be more intertwined in my life would be if I had written it.
How do you know when a book has a hold on you? When you’ve read it thirty-some times and you absolutely can’t wait until you read it again. I can’t wait…
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09.06.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 2:19 pm by Administrator
There are so many things I could be working on today. I’m in the midst of writing two books and have ideas for three more books, I have two books I need to edit, and then there are all the little business-related paperwork tasks that need doing. Oh, but I just don’t feel like it. I feel like having a cup of tea and reading a Dorothy Sayers mystery. (That reminds me, if you enjoy a good British mystery and haven’t read Dorothy Sayers, you are missing out!)
I blame my unmotivated state on the weather. We’re feeling the effects of Tropical Storm Hanna today. Our world is cloudy, rainy and generally yucky. No one should have to work when the weather is yucky, and creative types should certainly get a special pass. You can’t create when you don’t feel motivated, right? Of course, there’s that inspiration-to-perspiration ratio to think of—maybe this is one of those days when I should press on and perspire to fulfill some of my previous inspired ideas. But I don’t feel like it.
Anyone who knows me already knows what I will do today. I’ll do about seventy-five percent of the work on my list (yes, I made a list first thing this morning; so predictable), and then I’ll bag the rest of the day. However, before I call it quits for today I’ll resolve to finish the list tomorrow. Or maybe the next day; it all depends on the weather.
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09.02.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 9:05 pm by Administrator
Did you ever spend a rainy, crummy afternoon hanging out in a bookstore? Not shopping, not running up your credit card bill—just being there, browsing the books. I did just that a couple of days ago, took an afternoon off to have lunch and go booking with friends. We fortified ourselves with pasta and then headed to the discount bookstore and let ourselves loose. I think we were there about two hours and honestly, if they had a cafe and some comfy chairs I could have stayed another hour, at least. If you’re a book person (and if you’re not, why are you reading this?) you will understand.
This is the part that kind of freaks me out—I was in a discount bookstore, where I could have bought lots of good books for two or three dollars each, and I bought nothing, not one single book. Oh, I wanted them. Some of those books, with their lovely cover art and their enticing synopses teasing me, begging me to open them up and read…well, they were nearly irresistible. I did open lots of covers, read some opening sentences, sometimes a little more, and then I closed those covers and put the books back on the shelf. Not that there was anything wrong with any of them…and I certainly could have afforded a three-dollar book. But…
I’ve probably thought about this a little too long, but I realize now that I’m having commitment issues. See, I know I won’t have time to read any of those books, at least not for a while, and I didn’t want to lead them on. No, seriously, I didn’t want them to spend months, years maybe, taking up valuable space on my shelf, where I could see them every day and want to get to know them, wondering how glorious it would be to finally crack that cover and read. I do read in the evenings, but only for half an hour or so, and it takes forever to finish anything. Short books are great because I can read them in a week. I think of them as literary flings; you can have a good time and it doesn’t hurt to say goodbye when it’s over. Anything over 200 pages, though, I have trouble with. That’s at least two weeks of reading, which means I will get emotionally involved. That book will be a part of my life for those weeks, and I know I will feel lost when it’s over. Yes, there will always be another book to read—another chance to get involved and then feel lost when it’s over.
As I said, I have thought about this way too much. I think I’ll go read a good book.
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