10.30.08
Posted in Editorial Musings, The Word at 8:25 pm by Administrator
He put his arm around her waste.
Oh, I hope not.
You have such a tiny waste.
Um, thank you(?).
She had a thirty-inch waste.
No comment.
I could go on, but I’m sure you get the idea. My point is, I see people use the word “waste” for “waist” all the time, and it sort of grosses me out. This is another thing that makes me want to poke my eyes out. Seriously, if you’re into putting your arm around people’s waste, I don’t want to know, and I don’t want to meet you. I certainly wouldn’t shake hands with you.
Apparently, there is a rather large segment of the English-speaking population that is completely unaware of the existence of the word “waist.” I always strive to do my part to beat back pernicious attacks on our language, so:
Waste is “material left over, rejected or thrown away” (i.e., trash), “material (as feces) produced but not used by a living organism” (i.e., poo), etc.
Waist is “the narrowed part of the body between the chest and hips.”
Remember, your belt goes around your waist, your arm goes around your date’s waist, and your waste gets flushed away.
Don’t make me poke my eyes out.
(Definitions taken from The Merriam-Webster Dictionary.)
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10.28.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 9:13 pm by Administrator
This subject came up last week when a colleague and I were discussing the spelling of various slang terms. She and I are both suburban white women, but we’ve done our share of editing urban black slang. Actually that might be a better title for this post: “Suburban White Woman Edits Urban Black Slang.” I know you don’t know me, so trust me when I tell you this situation is slightly ridiculous. I’m not the least bit “hip” or “with it,” or whatever they call it these days; to hear a slang or curse word escape my lips would be almost scandalous—almost. And yet I’ve gotten pretty good at this type of editing, proving that you don’t have to be a member of any particular group to edit work by and about that group.
Last week’s discussion began with the correct spelling of “I’ma,” as in “I’ma gon’ mess you up, hoe.” Some authors spell this “Imma,” which looks obviously wrong, or “Ima,” which I have actually let slip by a few times. The correct spelling, however, is “I’ma.” (I know this thanks to The Online Slang Dictionary, an invaluable resource and one of several such online resources.)
The next obvious question was “How does one spell ‘hoe’?” Thanks again to the OSD, I know that this word can be spelled either “hoe” or “ho.” Do I prefer one spelling over the other? No, I think they both look equally silly. To my mind, “ho” either has something to do with Santa Claus (Ho, ho, ho!) or with those chocolate-coated chocolate cakes with creamy filling (Ho Hos), and “hoe” is a useful garden tool. Anyway, I tend to go along with whichever spelling the author prefers.
Other examples come to mind, but that isn’t really what this post is about (fooled you, didn’t I?). My point is that slang is like any other specialized language. If you can learn to edit medical or technical text you can learn to edit slang. Your temperament will determine which one you like best; I like a healthy mix of both. And that is the great thing about editing; you never know what you’re going to read next. And that is why this blog as called Adventures in Editing.
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10.25.08
Posted in Darn Good Reads at 7:15 pm by Administrator
The Book Thief is not quite like anything I have read before. This is the book I began reading at six in the morning during my staycation. It became a big part of the reason I stayed at home in my easy chair for most of my week off.
The story takes place in Nazi Germany and is narrated by Death (Death was busy in those years). If you’re looking for a happy story, inspiring heroism, or a fine romance, The Book Thief is not for you. If you’re willing to sit and look at difficult situations and imperfect lives, this book may be for you. If you have that willingness and a passion for words and books, this book is definitely for you.
Liesel Meminger is a young girl living in a foster home in Germany. Her career as a book thief begins after her brother’s funeral when she plucks a lost copy of The Grave Digger’s Handbook from the snow. Liesel’s kind foster father helps her read this odd book in the dark hours after her nightmares. We see her learning to read, learning the power of words and stories. Her career continues when she rescues a banned book—still smoldering—from a pyre at a Nazi book burning. Soon Liesel is climbing into the window of the mayor’s house to steal books—one at a time—from his library. A hidden Jew moves to temporary safety with the help of a copy of Mein Kampf, then uses the pages of that book to write his own story for Liesel. Later, in a basement bomb shelter, Liesel spontaneously begins reading from one of her books, soothing people’s fears. There is tragedy and confusion, violence and death. After all, this is a country at war.
You might expect a story narrated by Death to be macabre, bloodthirsty. I certainly did, which was why I actually put off starting this book for several weeks. Actually, Death in The Book Thief is often kind and gentle in the way he gathers up the souls of the recently departed. Death seems fascinated and confused by humans, sometimes disgusted by them and the way they keep him busy. Throughout the book, there is the sense that Death is floating through our world, watching us from his own unique perspective. To him, the air always has color and texture, almost as if it is alive. His descriptions were just enough to leave me feeling I was breathing Liesel’s air.
I won’t give away Liesel’s ending, but I will tell you I cried. Part of the power of a good story, so ably demonstrated in The Book Thief, is to make you love a character so much you will weep for her—no matter when or how Death finally comes.
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10.23.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 8:18 pm by Administrator
The very first book I ever wrote was a nifty little number entitled Charlie at the Fish Olympics. I think I was in the fifth grade. Our teacher gave the assignment right around the time of the 1980 Olympics (hence the sports theme). I don’t remember actually writing the story, and my memory of the plot is pretty hazy (basically, a clownfish wins lots of gold medals). I do remember that it was “written and illustrated by Sarah Andrews and published by Googlelot McGuire.” My teacher may have given me extra points for adding a fictitious publisher’s name. The cover was cut from cardboard and was slightly crooked. The whole thing was held together with shiny brown packing tape (apparently we were fresh out of duct tape). I was proud of the idea; I was even proud of the cover and the binding. This was an A effort.
I got my A, and a whole lot more. At some point my teacher told me I should have the story published. She was proud of me. I was fit to burst with pride. Me, little old fifth-grade me, a published author? This was unbelievable. I actually had talent; there was something I was good at. Wow!
My mother was proud when I told her. When we told my father, he wanted to know how much money I would make (but I like to think that maybe he was proud too). Some people searched a little bit to find a publisher for my masterpiece, but I don’t think anyone searched very hard or very long, and that was okay. The idea fizzled. Charlie at the Fish Olympics remains unpublished. I believe it is in a box either in my mother’s house or in my storage space.
The lack of publishing success is not important. What is important is the confidence this experience gave me. I already had an inkling that I was pretty good at putting words together. Certainly I’d written stories for school before and had gotten good grades on them. What was new was the sense that people might actually want to read what I wrote. That astounded me. To be perfectly honest, this idea still astounds me, which is partly why most of my writing sits on my computer instead of in readers’ hands. But those words from my teacher, “You should get this published,” brought possibility into my life. Those words opened my mind and are at least partly responsible for the words I write today.
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10.21.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 9:00 pm by Administrator
I’ve wanted to write this post for at least the past two weeks. There was only one problem: I didn’t have the perfect opening sentence. Actually there were several problems, but they all amounted to one thing: The idea wasn’t perfect yet. And so the post remained unwritten.
This is what happens to a lot of my ideas. That opening flash is brilliant and wonderfully exciting, but the details are hazy, the execution halfhearted, and the flash fizzles. Why? Because I want everything to be perfect. This is why I have a novel whose opening chapter I have rewritten probably a dozen times. The novel remains unfinished. (I think I was on chapter three or four the last time I fizzled. I still have hope though. Next year, chapter five!) Perfection is a laudable goal, but sometimes it is stifling, paralyzing. Sometimes the pursuit of perfection leads to the accomplishment of nothing. If you’ve ever stared at a blank page for hours waiting for just the right words to come to you, you’ll understand what I mean.
I know I’m not alone in my paralysis. I frequently hear from writers who have written pretty good books, writers who think they might be ready to work with an editor, to look for an agent or publisher, to finally see their work in print. Then they change their minds. “The book just isn’t good enough,” they say. “I need to do one more draft.” I would bet that “one more draft” becomes two, three or four more drafts of a work that may never see the light of day.
Now I’m not about to stop trying to perfect my writing and editing (or anything else I do), and I wouldn’t advise anyone else to stop trying to improve their work. Lately, however, I’ve realized that I accomplish more in the real world if I just forge ahead and do things, regardless of how imperfect the results may be. So, in the past year I’ve written a children’s book (just one more draft and then I’m going to publish—I swear) and started a blog full of imperfect writing. I’ve learned that I don’t have to be perfect to do good work or to live a good life; sometimes just doing the best I can at that moment is enough. (And I never did think of the perfect opening line for this post, so please accept my imperfect but worthy attempt.)
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10.18.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 1:35 pm by Administrator
What do editors do when they take a vacation? I suppose some may go to Rome or to a warm, sunny beach, perhaps in Mexico. At this time of year, others may head to New England to see the fall colors. What did I do? I stayed home and read a book. I know, it doesn’t sound very exciting, but for someone who loves to read and rarely has time to read whatever I want for hours on end … oh, it was heavenly.
Picture this: A vacationing editor kicking back in an easy chair, a cat on my lap, a cup of tea at my elbow, a good book in my hands. There I was, reading happily, turning pages steadily, totally unbothered by the occasional missing period or quotation mark (I did notice the missing period and quotation mark, but there was no compulsion to do anything about these minor mistakes; I didn’t need to fix anything).Talk about a dream come true. I am still trying to figure out how to make a living doing this. So far, I have not come up with any solid leads.
The past few months have been busy. It’s not unusual for me to edit for ten or twelve hours a day. Trust me, that is a lot of editing. I wouldn’t edit that much if I didn’t love it, but sometimes at the end of the day my brain feels … well, I suppose mushy is the best word for it. Yes, my brain is mushy, and I feel like I can’t possibly read one more word. I hadn’t realized it until this week, but I had even lost some of the joy I once had for reading. Can you imagine? Instead of reading in the evenings I watched TV. On the weekends, I found it hard to read without falling asleep. Never, not even in my worst nightmare, did I think that I, Sarah Andrews, the kid who always had her nose in a book, would not want to read.
Not to worry though. I took a week to read whatever I wanted, got stuck into a good book (The Book Thief —I’ll tell you about it later), and cured myself. A couple of mornings I was up reading by six o’clock (yes, that’s AM, and no, I’m not insane). I read and read and read. I also played with my stamp collection, watched some movies and took two excellent naps, but mostly I read—with absolute joy.
And so I am now prepared to return to my real life. I’m looking forward to being back in the saddle, to working on books instead of just reading them, hoping that my work may bring hours of enjoyment to other readers. There is one thing that bothers me. You see, I started reading a new book just yesterday. I’m about fifty pages in and don’t want to stop, but I know I won’t be able to finish it this weekend. Do you think my clients would understand if I came down with “vacation flu” on Monday morning?
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10.09.08
Posted in Editorial Musings at 7:44 pm by Administrator
In case you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to plant your hindquarters in a chair and write a 50,000-word novel in thirty days, here’s your chance to find out. Yes, November is National Novel Writing Month, in which slightly insane people (just like you) commit to writing a novel in one month.
Impossible, you say? Actually, if you are willing to do the work and basically have no life for a month, this task is difficult but feasible. I know because I did it last year and ended up with the first draft of my first book. If you’re anything like me—meaning you think about writing all the time but only do it a couple times a year—having this kind of deadline may be just the thing you need to get you motivated. And if you’re the kind of writer who wants to get everything perfect in the first draft—like me again—trying to write a novel in a month will break you of that habit, at least temporarily.
Getting started is easy. Just visit the NaNoWriMo website and sign up. Gather your notes and ideas and start writing on November 1. (No cheating—you can make as many notes as you want, but don’t you dare start writing until November 1.) Write, write, write every day for thirty days, submit your draft to the NaNoWriMo word counter (you can scramble the letters if you worry about someone stealing your fabulous idea), and you get a nifty certificate to print out and show proudly to friends and family. Oh, be prepared for some friends and family to think you’ve lost your mind, but don’t take them too seriously; just keep writing.
Now that I’ve told you how wonderful NaNoWriMo is and how much it will improve your writing production, I have to tell you that there is no way in heck I will be participating this year. I have ideas—three ideas, in fact—but I would literally have to give up sleep for a month, and I am really unpleasant when I haven’t had enough sleep. So I’ll save my ideas for next year, or until I figure out a way to add a few hours to every day, whichever comes first.
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10.07.08
Posted in Writer's Resource at 9:33 pm by Administrator
Strictly speaking, this isn’t a writing reference, but it is a cool book. If you’re a curious person (and I know you are) go to your library and flip through this book for a while. Need to know how to tell time by a ship’s bells? The proper seating arrangement for a wedding rehearsal dinner? Average precipitation for Milwaukee? Prime minister of Australia in 1947? Yes, I know you could look this stuff up on the Internet, but that wouldn’t be as much fun. After all, we are book people here, aren’t we?
Oh, and there is also a whole section called “Alphabets and Words,” followed by “Grammar and Punctuation.” If you need a grammar refresher and don’t want to buy a whole book on grammar, the G & P section can give you some pointers.
Spend an hour with this reference. Trust me, you will learn many fascinating things you never imagined you would need to know. You may even find something to spark a new writing idea.
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Posted in The Word at 9:31 pm by Administrator
We’re on homophones again this month, this time with three words I often see used interchangeably. They’re, their and there sure sound alike, but they have totally different functions. So how do you know which one to use? It’s really not that hard. If you remember the first two rules below, the rest will come easy.
1. They’re is a contraction of they are. They’re going to the football game.
2. Their is an adjective meaning “of or relating to them or themselves.” Their team is favored to win.
3. There has several meanings. It can be an adverb meaning “in or at that place,” a noun meaning “that place,” or a pronoun used as a function word. The stadium is over there. The running back took the ball from there. There is a great game going on here. You don’t even need to remember all that. You’ve already memorized they’re and their, right? So now you know if neither of those fits your sentence, you must want there. Easy.
And if you want to get fancy: They’re going over there to the football game to watch their team win.
(Definitions taken from The Merriam-Webster Dictionary.)
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10.04.08
Posted in Favorite Books and Authors at 6:40 pm by Administrator
As much as I enjoy language and grammar, I don’t very often read grammar books for fun. Most grammar books are informative and interesting in their own way, but they will not keep you turning the pages late into the night.
Enter Karen Elizabeth Gordon and The Deluxe Transitive Vampire. This is a grammar book that is actually a joy to read, plus it has pictures of gargoyles, bats, and other fun things. (Some of the illustrations are nudes, so if you’re offended by that sort of thing, you may want to choose a more conventional grammar book. But you will miss so much!) This is the grammar book I would write if I decided to write a grammar book. Fortunately for me, the book already exists and I can just sit back and enjoy it.
I suppose I enjoyed the sentences I learned to diagram and parse back in middle school. If I hadn’t I probably would have gone into molecular biology rather than editing. But we never had a sentence quite as interesting as
The bat suspended from Loona’s hairdo was repulsed by her Nuit Blanche perfume.
Or how about
The rat shot the pizza chef dead.
That second sentence always makes me smile. I think it has something to do with the illustration of the rat holding a revolver, presumably aimed at the unfortunate pizza chef, who I guess made a really bad pie. Not enough cheese, perhaps. Or maybe too many mushrooms.
Back to reality (drat!). If you feel your grammar is a little rusty and the thought of actually reading a grammar book makes you yawn, you may want to try The Deluxe Transitive Vampire. You will learn some things and be pleasantly entertained. You will learn that
The mannequin gave the baby vampire her phone number, but she knew he’d never call.
(Actually, in this example you’re learning two things: how to join independent clauses, and, more importantly to some of you, baby vampires are unreliable.)
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