03.03.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 12:46 pm by Administrator
Where have all the hyphens gone? Nearly every day, everywhere I look, I see these little spaces where there should be hyphens. In the community newspaper, in national advertising, in Jeopardy clues, on product packaging, and of course on the Internet, the hyphens have somehow been left behind.
Just yesterday, I had to look something up on the AARP Web site and learned that their magazine is the “World’s Largest Circulation Magazine.” So it’s an exceptionally large magazine about circulation? I’ve leafed through my mother’s copies of the magazine (I myself am not quite old enough to subscribe), and it seems to cover a lot more than circulation. Or maybe I’m taking it all wrong. Maybe they mean it’s the largest magazine that circulates. That might make sense—sort of. But still, I can’t help thinking that they actually mean it’s the magazine with the largest circulation in the world, in which case there really should be a hyphen connecting largest and circulation.
Yes, I know that some styles (notably APA, which I work with frequently) don’t use hyphens in compounds with comparatives or superlatives. This drives me insane. It is almost physically painful for me to let phrases like “higher scoring students” slip by without a hyphen. I imagine a group of students receiving their scores as they sit atop extremely tall chairs. Meanwhile, the lower scoring students are seated on the cold, hard floor. But no normal person would worry about such a thing; no, it takes an editor to come up with an image like this.
In case you’re not an editor (or in case you’re an editor who can still masquerade as a “normal” person), this is the sort of thing editors think about all day. I haven’t actually done it—yet—but many times I’ve been tempted to write to various companies and alert them to the fact that their hyphens have all run away. If I ever get to retire, pointing out cases of lost hyphens will probably become my main hobby. Perhaps I’ll become an amateur hyphen detective, à la Miss Marple. I’ll knit, I’ll read AARP’s circulation magazine, and someday, if I’m very fortunate and very skillful, I’ll find out where all those hyphens have gone. I shall begin my search in the Caribbean; it seems the most logical place.
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03.01.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 5:17 pm by Administrator
You never know quite what you’re going to get when you put your business online and invite queries from anyone who happens to stumble across your site. It was almost exactly two years ago that I started planning Sundragon. I published the site with a sense of excitement tempered with trepidation. The clients would come, I was sure, but a certain number of potential clients would prove to be rude, demanding, or downright crazy. I could only hope the reasonable clients would outnumber the crazy … er, the unreasonable ones.
So far I’ve been pleasantly surprised. I’ve had the pleasure of working with some pretty terrific people who appreciate my work (unlike my last “real” employer) and pay me on time. I’ve also had the displeasure of receiving some rude e-mails that have annoyed me mightily.
Some people like to start off by making demands. No “Dear editor,” no introduction, and usually no explanation of what they actually want. Like this one: “I don’t like that there’s no phone number on your website. Call me.” Yeah, right. Some people don’t even bother to write an actual e-mail. Instead, they stick a question in the subject line, like this: “Where’s your office?” Several people have asked me just one question: “What does Sundragon mean?” That one I don’t really mind; in fact, I’m quite happy to answer that question (or pretty much any question) as long as there are some other words resembling “hello” and “thank you” mixed in there somewhere. I also enjoy it when people put their names on their e-mails, but that, apparently, is entirely too much to expect.
Maybe I’m clinging to some old-fashioned and unrealistic ideals, but I really don’t think a little basic civility in an e-mail is too much to ask for. It’s one thing to send a short e-mail consisting of only one question—no hello, no good-bye, no name—to a friend, but the rules are different when you’re contacting someone for the first time. What you say and how you say it will give the recipient their first (and maybe only) impression of you, and saying something like “I don’t understand your prices. Please reply,” with no greeting and no name, sounds pretty dang rude to me. Perhaps it’s not meant to be rude, but still.… Why start off that way? Are we really too busy to say hello to each other and to thank someone for taking the time to answer our questions?
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02.26.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 2:39 pm by Administrator
Editing is not always about spelling and punctuation. Sometimes an editor has to get inside a writer’s mind, wade into a sentence or paragraph whose true meaning is cleverly hidden within phrases and structures that make absolutely no sense. The editor enters the murky world of creative spelling, misplaced modifiers, horrifying accidents of punctuation. Trust me, it’s not a pretty place.
How should one approach such a daunting task? First, let the self slip into the background. Your ego has no business entering someone else’s writing. Gently feel the writer (minds out of the gutter, please) through his or her words. Allow the true meaning to reveal itself. When the meaning becomes clear, cup it gently within your hands and bring it to the surface for the rest of the world to see.
That’s one method. Then there’s the method most of us actually use, which goes something like this:
Leaning forward, rest elbow on desk and place forehead in palm of hand. Read nonsensical sentence again. And again, only backwards this time. Sigh loudly. Proclaim, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Leave office to get a fourth cup of coffee. For especially confusing sentences, have a jelly donut too.
Okay, despite their essential yumminess, jelly donuts are not actual editorial tools. (Please note that coffee is an actual editorial tool, at least in my office.) Being able to temporarily slip out of yourself and “become the writer” is an essential editorial skill, though. Good editors will understand what a writer means even when that writer’s words say something completely different. Then the good editor will rephrase the words to say exactly what the writer meant to say in exactly the way the writer would have said it if the writer had not been so befuddled by his/her initial thought. Some writers will be amazed by this editorial skill. Others will take it for granted. A small minority will be offended that the arrogant, dimwitted editor has made their writing make sense. The nerve!
One thing is clear to me: Egos have no place in editing. It can be tempting to rearrange or change a writer’s words just because you think you could have written that story or paper or poem so much better than the writer did. But I think the editor’s job is to help the writer say exactly what the writer meant to say in exactly the way the writer meant to say it. Sometimes this is a tough job that involves a certain amount of sighing and swearing. Often, though, it’s what you refrain from, what you leave behind when you sit down to work, that’s most important. No imposition of self. No editorial ego. That’s Zen and the art of editing.
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02.24.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 4:03 pm by Administrator
I love commas. They’re such tiny things, but their power is immense. Okay, “immense” is probably an overstatement. Let’s start by agreeing that commas are important and move on from there.
My love of the humble comma extends to the serial (or series, or Oxford) comma. For those of you so-called “normal” people who don’t spend hours out of every day thinking about commas, the serial comma is the comma that comes before the conjunction in a series of three or more items (as in “puppies, kittens, and salamanders”). Some people consider this comma “optional” or “extra” (they would prefer “puppies, kittens and salamanders”), and many writers and editors treat serial commas like so much disgusting punctuation litter, the kind of trash one must handle only while wearing rubber gloves and a respirator. Certain word nerds enjoy arguing over whether the serial comma is necessary or appropriate. I prefer not to argue about it; I just go ahead and use that little comma unless there’s a good reason not to.
Certainly there are times when a serial comma would get in the way or cause confusion for the reader. In such cases, leave it out. However, I edit lots of documents written by people who either don’t like serial commas or think the use of the serial comma is absolutely forbidden somewhere in the Ten Commandments. I call these unfortunate folks commaphobes. Somewhere there must be a support group for commaphobic people—at least I hope there is. But getting back to my point, I think the serial comma clarifies more often than it obscures. I don’t enjoy obscure writing, so I’m all for anything that will improve clarity. I guess this makes me a commaphile.
By the way, please feel free to disagree with my thoughts on the serial comma. I won’t even argue with you. Hey, you’re entitled to be commaphobic, misguided, and wrong.
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02.22.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 7:32 pm by Administrator
Nobody’s perfect. Editors generally like things to be perfect, and some of us experience a certain queasy feeling when we realize an error (even a tiny one) has slipped by, but at some point we all have to admit that we make mistakes. Humility is a beautiful thing. So, in the spirit of humility, today I will share a couple of my recent mistakes.
Several weeks ago, I finally decided I should actually read the little disclaimer I place at the top of “Madame Zwelch’s Weekly Forecast” on my Bog blog each Monday. (For those of you who are either just learning about me or haven’t been paying attention, Madame Zwelch is a somewhat grumpy mud turtle who has “the sight.” She offers confident but questionable advice, which you should follow only at your own risk.) I immediately realized I had misspelled the word “guarantee.” Because I’d been doing the ol’ copy-and-paste instead of rewriting the statement each week, “guarantee” had been misspelled consistently for perhaps about two months. I sincerely hope that my site had been visited only by exceptionally poore spelers during those two months.
Then, just this morning, I randomly decided to check over the profile information in one of my online business accounts. I realized I had entered my Web address incorrectly. (Presumably, this would explain the lack of hits.) Oh, the idiocy! I am still blushing over this one. Seriously, would you hire an editor who can’t spell her own address? Of course not. You would think, “Boy, what an idiot,” and move on.
Take a lesson here. Read over your stuff. Yes, even the small stuff. Yes, even your name, your address—every single little thing. Especially if you’re an editor. And when that queasy feeling comes because you realize you’ve embarrassed yourself in print or online, try drinking some warm ginger tea; it has a remarkably calming effect on upset editorial stomachs.
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02.18.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 12:38 pm by Administrator
“Kids today can’t spell and don’t know how to write a simple sentence. It’s because of all that texting they’re doing—all those newfangled abbreviations, no punctuation. They’ll all end up with rotten brains and broken thumbs, and the language catastrophe will culminate in 2012, when (according to the Mayan calendar) the world will end because no one can remember how to spell ‘you.’”
Many old fogies (and even quite a few of us slightly younger fogies) have made pronouncements of doom just like this. Heck, I opened up the newspaper this morning, went straight to the comics, and found that today’s Speed Bump deals with this very topic. “The end is near!” the language prophet says. Nobody pays attention; they’re all too busy texting, probably sending messages like “u c ths crzy gy” to the BFF standing right next to them.
But is this the end?
According to some recent studies, no. In fact, the rules of chatspeak are more complex than most of us realize, and kids who are proficient in chatspeak are just as proficient in fogeyspeak (that would be ordinary written English). A study published last year in the British Journal of Developmental Psychology found that texting might actually make young people more literate. Similarly, a University of Alberta study found that kids who can spell things like “OMG” and “LOL” can also spell things like “chilblain” and “exponentially.” Granted, “chilblain” and “exponentially” were probably not on the kids’ spelling tests, but a good speller is a good speller.
So maybe we should all relax. Young people’s brains are not rotting at an ever-increasing rate because of chatspeak. Those young people are actually being very clever in their use of language to communicate vital 411 such as “Does he like like me, or does he like like me?” I would have written that question in chatspeak, but I don’t know how. I suppose that makes me a chat-illiterate fogey, which brings up my next point: Young people are communicating via coded messages that people over thirty can’t possibly understand, and they’re developing super-fast, super-strong thumbs. Those of us with weak, fumbling thumbs don’t stand a chance in the chativerse.
Hmm … maybe we shouldn’t relax too much.
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02.03.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 9:46 pm by Administrator
It’s been a sad week for me. It’s also been a little less busy than usual, and it’s all because I lost my favorite freelance job late last week. For a little over a year, I’d been writing a comedy blog based on a fictional dog character for a nonprofit dog-rescue group. The work was steady and fun, the pay was good, but money’s tight and the group can’t afford me anymore. So now I don’t have to wake up three mornings every week and try to think of something funny to write (not an easy thing to do week after week). That’s the silver lining, I guess. I have time to pursue other opportunities (more silver lining). But now I have to pursue other opportunities—less-fun opportunities—or my bank account will start looking a little anemic within a month or two.
What to do? Well, I’ve been able to put some more effort into my Boghaunter site, for one thing. No one pays me to do that (minor complication), but it’s still a good use of a few hours out of every week. That’s what I tell myself. I think it might even be true. And I’ve got other irons in the fire, other paying gigs. Still, there’s this worried voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me maybe this will be the month the bad economy catches up with me. Maybe this will be the month it all starts to slide downhill. I am confident that I have the resources to get through, but still.…
I have sign above my desk. “Don’t Panic!” it says. Good advice, for freelancers and hitchhikers of all sorts. So I’m not panicking. But I am a little sad.
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02.01.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 10:01 pm by Administrator
Sometimes editors (and others) can be unimaginative, boring old coots. I was reminded of this uncomfortable fact just moments ago as I was leafing through Miss Thistlebottom’s Hobgoblins (by Theodore M. Bernstein). My little eye fell upon the entry for “land on water,” an innocent and useful phrase that has apparently induced apoplectic fits in some people.
Now, we all know what “land on water” means, don’t we? We don’t have to get all bent out of shape and argue that one can only “land” on land, do we? Perhaps, Bernstein says, we could use “alight on water,” but (as Bernstein also says) that sounds prissy. You certainly wouldn’t say that the crippled Airbus A320 piloted by Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger alighted on the Hudson. A big ol’ Airbus doesn’t alight anywhere. It lands, even on water.
Surely you’ve encountered at least one annoyingly literal-minded person in your life. This would be the guy who laughs when you talk about climbing down a ladder. “Climb” means you’re going up, not down, this person explains. It’s nearly impossible to have normal conversations with such people. Perhaps it’s best to just punch them in the face and be done with it, but I haven’t tried that approach and can’t recommend it. (If you happen to be one of these literal-minded people, please note that the preceding sentence was a joke, not an actual suggestion or threat. Don’t take it literally. And don’t you dare say anything stupid like “Of course I literally have a mind.”)
Bernstein ends the entry like this: “To insist on confining words to their original meanings regardless of the need to accommodate new situations is to handcuff the language.”
Handcuffs are for criminals. Let’s leave them off our living, growing language.
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01.27.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 8:15 pm by Administrator
So many authors dream the dream: Write a book, get picked up by a major publisher, pocket a hefty advance, watch readers snatch your book off bookstore shelves and wait for hours just to get your autograph, meet Oprah, meet the screenwriter who will help you turn your book into a major motion picture, accept a Pulitzer, closely followed by an Oscar.…
Okay, that’s a pretty extravagant dream. Let’s stop right before we meet Oprah. That gives our dreaming author a major publisher, a nice advance, and a wildly popular book. Still a big dream, and one that relatively few authors will realize. How about a small publisher, little or no advance, and modest sales? Some authors dream of this (for example, those of us who feel ill at the mere thought of becoming accidentally famous). But even this smaller dream will not work out for many writers.
So how about self-publishing? You do all the writing, editing, and designing yourself, or you write the book and then pay someone to do the editing and designing. Your work is available through a print-on-demand publisher, or you pay a publisher to print a certain number of copies of your book. The marketing is up to you, and unless you’re savvy about such things or know someone who is, you probably won’t sell many copies, which means you won’t make much money. You might even lose money. Sounds like a lousy deal, right?
Actually, I think self-publishing is a great deal for many authors. I know so-called “vanity” presses get a bad rap from the “real” publishing world. In fact, I used to be one of those people who sniff at self-published books and call them rotten. If the book had any merit, it would get picked up by a major publisher, right? Well, maybe.
The fact is, many talented authors with stories worth telling will never see their books in print—at least not under the imprint of a big publishing house. This could be a sad fact, but it doesn’t have to be. There is another fact to keep in mind: Authors today have more options than ever for getting their work into readers’ hands.
When you’re thinking through your many publishing options, start by deciding what you want. If you think your book will appeal to a large audience and you really want to see it on bookstore shelves, you’ll want to do the work of finding a good agent and a deal from a major publisher. If your work appeals to a smaller audience or you wrote it mostly for fun or you want to have absolute control over your marketing and message, self-publishing might be a good option for you. If you’ve been turned down by publisher after publisher and you’re about to give up and never write another word again, self-publishing might be a good option for you.
One last note: Self-publishing your book does not close the door on “real” publishing. Perhaps you’ve heard of Christopher Paolini, the young author of the Inheritance series (Eragon, Eldest, and Brisingr). His first book was self-published, but it gained a following and eventually fell into the hands of the right person. Paolini’s books went on to become bestsellers, and Eragon was made into a movie.
And so the dream lives on.
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01.22.10
Posted in Editorial Musings at 2:18 pm by Administrator
Words are funny things. We like to think we’ve got them all figured out, that our dictionaries somehow cement a word and its meaning into one unchangeable thing. But words are smarter than that. A word’s life is lived on the pens of poets and the tongues of common speakers, and no dictionary (or editor’s red pen) can end those lives (though the editors will insist on trying).
Take the word ornery, for example. This word, according to The Merriam-Webster New Book of Word Histories, began life as a dialectical pronunciation of the word ordinary. It first meant, well, “ordinary.” Having an ornery neighbor was probably a pretty good thing. Ornery then took on the connotation of “common, mean, or low,” which is the meaning Mark Twain used when Huckleberry Finn described himself as “low-down and ornery.” That ornery neighbor might be a little less desirable now. Then ornery took another turn and acquired its current definition of “having an irritable disposition.” Now you need to stay on the good side of your ornery neighbor or he just might leave a dead squirrel in your mailbox.
That’s the official history of ornery to date, but I think there’s something else going on with this word. In formal writing, ornery means “irritable,” but in less formal contexts (i.e., common speech) it also seems to mean something like “prone to causing trouble.” So an ornery neighbor might dress a dead squirrel in a tutu and leave it in your mailbox just for kicks. I’ve heard quite a few people described as “ornery” (mostly boys I knew in elementary school), and very few of them were irritable; they were mostly just troublemakers. Of course, there is still the ornery, cantankerous old coot who will blow up your mailbox if you look at him wrong; he’s certainly irritable.
You could argue that ornery is merely being misused by people who don’t consult the dictionary before they open their mouths. Or you could take this as another interesting twist in the life of a word. I’m going with the interesting-twist theory.
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