04.28.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 8:44 pm by Administrator
From the amusing mistake file: “It ant nothing but a constant struggle, and I mean that literately.”
Do I really need to comment? Probably not, but I will anyway. If you’re going to use “ain’t” literately, you absolutely must spell it correctly!
And that reminds me of another amusing mistake: “He literarily ran out of the house.”
I picture a distressed young man running out his front door while reciting a soliloquy from Hamlet. Or perhaps he’s composing some poetry on the fly.
And you thought editing was boring!
(As always, the mistakes are actual examples I have found while editing, but the sentences above are mine. I do like to protect the innocent.)
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04.25.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 5:52 pm by Administrator
Not long ago I edited what I thought was a paper to be submitted to the author’s church authorities. Several things about the formatting and style seemed, well, odd. The tabs were huge (even in the footnotes, which looked especially odd), and all the numbers were written in words (sixty-one thousand instead of 61,000). There were a few other little things that were strange, but these are the ones I remember. I’m used to authors more or less making up a style as they go along, and it looked like that was the case here. I happily proceeded to correct the paper to APA style. It looked really sharp when I was finished. I returned it to the author and waited for his email of thanks and praise.
The thanks came rather quickly; the praise did not. I received a new copy of the paper and a request to run through it one more time to review the author’s changes. Upon opening the file, I discovered the large tabs were back, as were the spelled-out numbers and all of the other weird little things. What’s up with this? I thought. Then, in another e-mail, came the answer. The paper was not for a local church leadership committee; it was part of a doctoral research proposal for the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. The author sent me a PDF of their style guide, and I quickly realized many of my brilliant “corrections” would more accurately be called “errors.”
This was not a disaster. The author could—and had—easily reject any unwanted changes I had made. The corrections I had made to the spelling and some of the phrasing were fine. In the end, the author ended up with a quality document. Still, I was left wondering who was to blame for the initial confusion over style.
I have—somewhat reluctantly—accepted the blame. I should not have assumed anything about the paper. Without any explicit instructions as to what it was, who it was for, or what style was being followed, I should have asked for clarification. You can’t assume the author will tell you up front all you need to know about a document, especially an academic paper. Many writers, especially students, will think that you automatically know everything; you are the editor, after all.
So my lesson here was “Don’t assume.” This is a useful lesson for writers too. Editors are pretty smart, but we are not psychic (as far as I know). If there are any intentional quirks in your work or a specific style that must be followed, tell your editor. He or she will appreciate the information, and you’ll probably end up with a higher-quality finished product.
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04.21.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 8:45 pm by Administrator
I am living proof that editors are human and have days we would rather forget. As evidence, I offer you my accomplishments for today.
• I woke up an hour before I wanted to, then went back to sleep and overslept by half an hour.
• I rolled out of bed, got dressed, and tried to meditate, but my mind kept going back to the blog post I was supposed to write for a client.
• I quit trying to meditate, made coffee, went to my desk, and tried to write the blog post. I couldn’t think of anything to write. The idea I outlined last night looked stupid in the light of day. I thought of several new ideas. As I began to work on them, they all started to look stupid too.
• I ate breakfast and drank some coffee, hoping the nourishment would fire up my brain cells.
• Back at my desk, I tried writing again. After some more false starts and a fair amount of swearing, I finished the post (which I am still only mildly happy with) and sent it to the client.
• I edited part of a book. This actually went OK. Nevertheless, I felt a headache coming on.
• I attempted to print some marketing materials that had to go in the mail today. The printer had a paper jam. I swore some more, moved all the things I have to move to get to the back of my printer, and fixed the jam. I tried to print again. Page 1—no problem. Envelope—paper jam. I turned the &*$! printer off and addressed the envelope by hand.
• Thinking a little exercise would help clear my mind, I decided to take the dog for a nice walk. She took off after a squirrel and almost pulled me up a tree (I guess I should be happy about the “almost” part).
• Back at home, I thought a piece of fudge might be just what I needed. As I was raising the fudge to my mouth, I somehow lost control of it (the fudge, not my mouth) and dropped it on the kitchen floor. A sad death for an otherwise excellent piece of fudge.
• At this point, I considered bagging the rest of the day and going for a drive. I decided against it though, as by now I was afraid to leave the house.
• I edited some more. Again, it went OK, except for the whopper of a headache I got trying to sort out the dialogue.
• I finished editing earlier than I had planned and decided to write a blog post for myself for once. But there was a problem: I didn’t have anything to say today, and I already had a headache. To whom could I complain about my lousy day?
• I decided to write this post. I am moderately happy with it, and it is the best thing I have done all day. Thank you for reading it, and if you did not enjoy it, I really don’t want to know.
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04.14.09
Posted in Darn Good Reads at 1:29 pm by Administrator
I stumbled upon Sara Selkirk in the library not that long ago. I was first drawn to the Roman-looking cover of the first book in the series, Funeral Music. Reading the back cover, I realized I was holding a British mystery in my hands. The plot sounded intriguing, but the author’s name was the clincher: How could I have respected myself if I passed up an author named Morag Joss? And so Funeral Music went home with me, I began reading, and within a few pages I had a new writer for my list of favorites.
Sara Selkirk is a world-renowned cellist living near Bath, England. Her career as an amateur detective begins when she discovers a body in an ancient Roman bath. Conveniently, Sara’s student and love interest (unfortunately married) is Detective Chief Inspector Andrew Poole, so she has access to inside information on the investigation. I won’t go into the plot more than that, but I will tell you that Sara survives and her adventures continue in Fearful Symmetry and Fruitful Bodies, with the usual false starts and deadly peril. All three books are also laced with a dry wit that often had me laughing out loud.
I now have a definite soft spot for Ms. Selkirk. In fact, I would like to be invited to her house for tea. Even better, I would watch her beautiful house for her while she goes on tour. It would be nice to think that Joss will write more Sara Selkirk books, but the end of Fruitful Bodies felt like a definite end to Sara’s detecting days (and no, I won’t tell you what happens).
Morag Joss has created a fun series, with just the kind of murder I enjoy (the kind I enjoy reading about, I mean). There are no homicidal lunatics tearing children limb from limb or sexually torturing their victims in a complicated manner that is vividly described. I have read a few too many violent, bloody thrillers in my career, and not by choice. For relaxation, I’m looking for an escape, something with interesting characters, an inviting setting, and enough tension to keep me turning pages. Something delightfully written, with unexpected humor. Something like a Sara Selkirk mystery.
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04.11.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 1:31 pm by Administrator
There are two dictionaries I frequently use. One is Random House Webster’s Unabridged Dictionary (not my favorite, but it’s on my computer and is very convenient). The second is Merriam-Webster Online (my favorite, but you have to go online to use it—not always convenient). These two dictionaries do not always agree on matters of spelling and hyphenation, demonstrating that “the dictionary” is not necessarily the ultimate authority on such matters.
Yesterday, for example, I came upon the compound “eye opener” in my editing. This looked wrong to me. I was certain it should be hyphenated (“eye-opener”) but wanted to check the dictionary to be extra sure. I looked first to the Random House version (for convenience) and was surprised to see the compound not hyphenated but closed (“eyeopener”). I immediately rebelled. How could this be right?
Merriam-Webster saved me. There the compound was hyphenated, just as I thought it should be. I don’t need to tell you which dictionary I followed.
This morning I decided to see what The Chicago Manual of Style has to say about weird closed compounds:
7.84 The trend toward closed compounds. With frequent use, open or hyphenated compounds tend to become closed (on line to on-line to online). Chicago’s general adherence to Webster does not preclude occasional exceptions when the closed spellings have become widely accepted, pronunciation and readability are not at stake, and keystrokes can be saved.
The key phrase here is “pronunciation and readability are not at stake.” I don’t believe “eyeopener” is doing anything for readability. When I read “eyeopener,” my eyes go straight to “yeop” and get stuck there. It doesn’t look like a real word—at least not an English word. “Eyeopener” hurts my eyes.
And so, once again I will stick with my best friends, Merriam-Webster and Chicago. They never hurt my eyes.
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04.07.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 11:52 am by Administrator
I love our local public library. Who could pass up free books and all their pleasures? Sure, you don’t often get to experience that “new book” smell from a library book, but I think there is something appealing about reading a book with a past. Sometimes I sit and wonder how many people have read this book before me. Did they enjoy it? Did they have the flu while they were reading it? Did they wash their hands before they touched it? (Yes, I really do think about such things.)
Most previously read books will bear some signs of their readers. The corner of a page might be turned down, either to mark an important passage or to serve in place of a bookmark (lots of people don’t have bookmarks, apparently). Occasionally, I will find a library book that has been written in. I find this annoying, but I do sometimes enjoy reading the notes or wondering why anyone would underline that particularly uninteresting bit of information. I have also found business cards, shopping lists, random bits of paper.
There are other mysteries to solve. Our library has a self-service checkout station that gives you a receipt listing all the books you checked out in that session. I have found quite a few of these little slips tucked into the pages of books. I like to read them and attempt to discover any relationship between the books on the list: Indian Cooking, Birds of North America, Marketing for Dummies, and The Essential Haiku. Okay, I just made that list up, but you get the idea. Come to think of it, this is pretty close to a list of books I checked out one day about a year ago. I should have left the receipt for someone to find.
Less pleasant things get left in library books too. Just ten minutes ago I finished reading a book that unfortunately had some bits of dried food stuck between several pages. At least I hope it was food. (Why did the reader not make some attempt to clean this up? My mother certainly taught me to clean up after myself.) I have also found books with pages smeared with what I sincerely hope was either mud or chocolate. This brings to mind the Seinfeld episode in which George tries to return a new book after he read said book in the bathroom—but let’s not think about that too much.
I have to go return a library book now—and check out another one!
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04.04.09
Posted in Editorial Musings at 4:12 pm by Administrator
The use of @ for “at” is a new phenomenon that makes me want to poke my eyes out. Well, I guess technically it is not a phenomenon; it is really just one of those annoying things people do. Perhaps it isn’t even all that new, but I’ve only recently noticed @ showing up in the prose I edit.
There are many things I do not understand, and the use of @ in prose is certainly one of them. Is it so hard to type “a-t”? I just typed “a-t,” and it seemed pretty simple to me. Just two little strokes, easy breezy. That’s all it takes to avoid such monstrosities as “He met her @ the station.” Poke! Or how about “He met her @ the station @ 4 o’clock”? Poke! Poke! Poke!
Why the sudden misuse of @? I blame technology. We’re all so used to using @ in email addresses, text messages, and instant messages, we shouldn’t be surprised to find it leaking into prose. And yet, I was surprised—and saddened, and now my eyes hurt.
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