The bird was a female Cooper’s hawk that apparently flew in through a broken window on January 19. She became a minor celebrity here in the Washington region, appearing on the evening news and in the Washington Post.

The hawk was finally captured January 26, lured in by two caged European starlings used as bait (no starlings were harmed in the process). She was said to be “emaciated” after her lengthy stay among the stacks, and would be rehabilitated before being released. (If she pooped on anything in the reading room, I’ll bet they revoked her library card, as well.)

What does this have to do with editing or writing? Nothing. But I’m a bird watcher in addition to being a writer and editor, and I really wanted to invite you to take part in something called the Great Backyard Bird Count this February 18-21. It’s simple, it’s free, it’s educational, it’s a great thing to do with your kids. You don’t have to be a bird expert or have all sorts of fancy equipment. Heck, you don’t even have to go outside.

Maybe you should visit your library to check out a few bird books, though.

(The bird on the button is a male hooded merganser. Quite a handsome fellow, don’t you think? I hope to report a few hooded mergansers on my checklist this year.)

The short answer is, it depends. The long answer is a little too long for just one post, so I’m going to break it down over the next couple of weeks. Today’s detailed answer is for those of you who are writing books that you intend to submit to an agent or traditional publisher.

Scenario #1: You’ve been through several drafts of your first book and you’re ready to look for a publisher. You feel confident about the book’s structure and your writing style. People who are not related to you and will give you an honest opinion have read the book and liked it. Still, you know there are some spelling and punctuation problems lurking in there.

Do you need an editor?

Probably not, at least not for the whole book.

It really isn’t necessary to have the whole book absolutely perfect at this point. If a traditional publisher does give you a contract, they will assign an editor to make sure the book meets their house style. If they need you to make any specific changes, they’ll tell you. Instead of worrying about commas and spelling and such throughout the whole book, focus on polishing your query letter, synopsis, and sample chapter(s). Perhaps you’ll want to hire an editor just for those elements.

Scenario #2: You’ve been through several drafts of your book, and it just doesn’t seem to be working. The story is good, but something seems off. You know you have serious spelling issues, and you’re not really sure how to do punctuation. People who have read the book aren’t sure that they like it. Still, you believe in the work: you know it’s a diamond in the rough that deserves to be snapped up by a mainstream publisher.

Do you need an editor?

Probably yes.

Again, you’re not shooting for absolute perfection at this point, but an editor (or a “book doctor”) can show you where the story is weak. An editor can also whip your spelling and punctuation into shape (which you will want to do if you want a publisher to take you seriously). If hiring an editor just isn’t in your budget, consider joining a writing group that will give you some honest, constructive feedback.

Next week: Do you need an editor if you’re self-publishing?

The Word of the Year is not a popularity contest. It’s not about the words we enjoy using; it’s more about the words we need to understand so we can make sense out of the evening news. Does anyone enjoy austerity? Probably not (“enforced or extreme” certainly doesn’t sound enjoyable).

Here’s hoping that the 2011 Word of the Year will be more fun. I vote for onomatopoeia (still my favorite word). Don’t know what it means? Look it up.

I happened to be watching the local evening news with my mother when this story aired last Friday. After we stopped laughing, we looked at each other and asked, “Who searches for dirty words online, anyway?”

I’ve given the matter some serious thought, and I think I know the answer: eleven-year-olds. The real story here is that the population of Ashburn, VA, includes three 11-year-olds who are getting a real kick out of looking up dirty words online.

My hypothesis is based on personal experience. I was about eleven when I first got really interested in all those words you’re never supposed to say. This was before PCs and the Internet, so my fascination was decidedly low tech and consisted mostly of a regular old dictionary and the wisdom of friends.

One day, for reasons I don’t fully understand, I decided to write a dirty word on my wooden ruler. I sat at my little desk where I was supposed to be doing homework, took up a ballpoint pen and started to write. The wood was soft, so the pen tip actually carved each letter: S-H-I …

That was when I panicked. My mother would find my dirty word and I would be in so much trouble. Creativity saved me. I changed the “I” to a somewhat rectangular “O” and wrote the word “shoot.” Then, worried that even this could be considered a curse word, I made a complete sentence out of it: “Shoot him!”

Which, if you think about it, is a lot more disturbing than a simple dirty word—and harder to explain when someone asks you why on earth you wrote that on your ruler. When I was asked (by a friend, thankfully, not my mother), I shrugged and gave the standard kid response: “I dunno.”

And that pretty much explains why those three kids in Ashburn are so busy looking up dirty words online.

1. If one of the main characters is named Brian, search for “brain.” This will identify such literary gems as “Brain poured a bowl of Frosted Flakes.” Ew.
2. If managers and management are frequently mentioned, search for “manger” and “mange.” Because the author probably didn’t mean to write about high-level mangers who mange their departments well.
3. And if the word “public” appears frequently, please, please, please search for “pubic.” This trick saved me just this morning, when my eye skipped over the phrase in which my client said he was very interested in “pubic policy.” Trust me, you don’t want to see that in print.

I’m not saying that you have to become a page-layout expert or get all artistic with your formatting. For our purposes, it’s better if you don’t get artistic. What you want is a manuscript that looks neat and clean and is easily readable. Following these basic tips can help you get there.

1. Use a standard font in a standard size, and use it consistently (yes, even for your title and chapter headings). I recommend 12-point Times New Roman. No, it’s not the prettiest font out there, but it is generally easy to read on the screen.
2. Use italics, bold, and ALL CAPS sparingly. Overuse of anything that is not roman type in normal sentence case will mark you as an amateur.
3. Double-space the document.
4. Align your text to the left (except for chapter headings, which can be centered).
5. Use standard margins. It’s hard to go wrong with one-inch margins all around.
6. Use one space between sentences and one hard return at the end of a paragraph. There is no need to place a blank line between paragraphs unless you’re indicating a section or scene break. DO NOT hit enter at the end of every line.
7. Begin each paragraph with a left tab, or format your paragraphs to begin with a first-line indent.
8. If you’re using page numbers, insert them as headers or footers. DO NOT manually type them on each page.

If you don’t know how to do these things with your word-processing program, learn. It really isn’t very difficult to do, and learning how can save you time, and perhaps money, in the end. Alternatively, you could ask your editor to do the formatting for you. But we’ll charge you extra for it.

Were I a salesy person, that would be my slogan. I would plaster it all over my car and put it on t-shirts and baseball caps. I would write my slogan on a banner and hire an airplane to tow it around above a crowded beach. And of course I would always follow it up with my web address: www.sundragonediting.com.

I would do all this because I really believe in my slogan. Anyone who writes anything for any reason will, at some point, need an editor. If you don’t believe me, surf around and read some of the unedited, unpunctuated, misspelled dreck that passes for writing on the Internet. Read the résumé of a professional who is “punctuation challenged.” Read a doctoral dissertation with a misspelled title.

Editors could end this madness.

Editors could save the world, if only the world would let us.*

*Okay, perhaps I’ve gone too far. Editors probably can’t save the whole world from everything. But we can save writers from embarrassment and readers from poking their eyes out (a common side effect of reading too much dreck).

The abbreviation i.e., for the Latin id est, means “that is.” On his first morning in his new bachelor pad, Paul prepared a simple but satisfying breakfast; i.e., he burned a slice of toast.

The abbreviation e.g., for the Latin exempli gratia, means “for example.” Backyard birds include many familiar species (e.g., cardinals, chickadees, and house sparrows).

You do not need to italicize these abbreviations. You do need to follow them with a comma. And remember they should appear in parentheses or follow a semicolon or dash.

Will I remember when to use i.e. and e.g. from now on? Oh, I’m almost sure I will.

(Definitions from The Merriam-Webster Dictionary.)

The best part of working from home? My officemates are animals. Our dog and two of our cats take turns “helping” me all day. What could be better than a purring paperweight?

Of course, freelancing from home also has its less charming parts. I never really get to leave the office and “go home.” During busy weeks, I might not get out into the real world at all. And when things are slow, this place can be pretty dang lonely.

The worst part of working from home? My officemates are animals.

I know, I shouldn’t complain, and I did just say the animals are also the best part of working here. Some human officemates can certainly be beyond annoying, and without the benefit of being cute and fluffy. But there are some things human officemates just don’t do.

1. They don’t get fur in your keyboard.
2. They don’t bark when you’re on the phone with a client.
3. They don’t walk into the office and hack up a hairball on the carpet.
4. They don’t drag all the used tissues out of the trash can and scatter them across the floor in a decorative pattern.
5. They don’t wipe their butts on the carpet when you’re not looking, leaving poopy residue for another officemate to roll in. (On the upside, if the cat hadn’t rolled in the residue and then jumped into my face for cuddles, it would have taken me a lot longer to find said residue.)

At least I hope your human officemates don’t do any of these things. If they do, boy, you’ve got problems.

Take the word “turncoat.” I’ve come across the phrase “he’s turned his coat” in Brother Cadfael and Matthew Shardlake books. The definition (one who switches sides; a traitor) is simple enough, but where does the term come from and does it belong in these books?

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the phrase “to turn one’s coat” was first recorded in the 1560s. Word-Origins.com adds the (probably apocryphal) story of a sixteenth-century duke of Saxony who had a reversible coat, one side white, the other blue. The duke wore his coat white side out when he wanted it to seem he supported the French; otherwise he wore it blue side out.

The Shardlake stories are set in the 1540s, pretty close to the earliest known use (at least according to my quick online search) of “to turn one’s coat.” Cadfael, though, is a twelfth-century monk; he’s four centuries too early for that phrase.

Do such details really matter? To word nerds who are also history buffs, yes. But for Brother Cadfael, I’m willing to overlook it.

*Created by Ellis Peters, C. J. Sansom, and Ariana Franklin, respectively.