[This is for Jerry, faithful reader--perhaps the only one--of Editorland. In a way, as you'll see, he is responsible for it.]
For years, I remembered her first name, but it’s disappeared now, into the oubliette of the past.
She was a copyeditor somewhere, and was the one person who responded when I asked Jerry Miller to put out an urgent appeal to his editing listserv for information about Stephanos numbers. I had seen a reference to them, and was lying awake nights, wondering what they were.
Stephanos numbers, she explained, were an unusual line-numbering system used in all editions of the works of Plato. Whereas most classics use a straightforward system of numbering lines for reference, she said, scholars of Plato have always followed the system devised by a printer of the 1500s named Stephanos.
That satisfied me for a number of years, until Google arrived with its promise of unlimited information about everything. And sure enough, it explained Stephanos (or Stephanus) numbers in exquisite detail. They were first employed for an edition of Plato’s complete works published in Geneva in 1578 by the printer Henri Estienne (1528-1598), better known under his Latin name of Stephanus.
His edition was not actually the first. That honor belongs to the celebrated Aldus Manutius of Venice, who also devised italic type.
My Internet source reproduces several pages of early editions with Stephanos numbers (letters actually) in the space between columns. It also explains just how they worked, an explanation I will not inflict in full on anyone who may be reading this. But it’s worth quoting a bit of it, if only because of its impenetrability:
“One may notice on each page, between the column with the Greek text and that with the Latin translation, letters A, B, C, D, and E located at regular intervals, every tenth line or so of the Greek text (intervals between lines of the Greek text are not the same as those between lines of the Latin translation, the latter being more compact), starting with A on the first line of the page and dividing the page into five sections of about ten lines of Greek text each; but it can be seen that the letters don’t always fall exactly in front of a line of the Greek text, and so, for instance, the E on page 515 falls between two lines of the Greek text, section D of that page includes 11 lines and section E only eight.”
Parse that if you can. What amazes me is that nameless copyeditor somewhere in cyberspace, before Google made finding such things easy. She answered as soon as she got the inquiry. She didn’t have to look it up—she knew.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Is it e-mail or email?
Is there anything Google doesn’t know?
I’ve been having a discussion with an author in the U.K. about whether the style should be “e-mail” or “email.” While the style guide of the book we’re working on calls for “e-mail,” he has referred me to “one of my favourite (though least well known) Google products:
http://www.google.com/trends?q=email,+e-mail&ctab=0&geo=all&date=all&sort=0
“Note that if you drill down to the United States, email is still far more popular. Intriguingly it seems that in Russia e-mail is still the preferred way to go.”
Note also, the “u” in “favourite.” I happen to like the British “u,” although I don’t use it, except in one instance. This is “glamour,” which I’m convinced looks more glamourous that the Americanized “glamor.” (I also sometimes use the British “plough” because the word’s orthography looks more like uneven ploughed ground that the American “plow.”)
But what about e-mail vs. email? Now that Google has compiled its statistics on usage worldwide, are we editors obliged to drop the hyphen? Of course not. It depends on the publisher’s preferred style, and to some extent on dictionaries and stylebooks. Just because Stephen King has persuaded half the world that “cemetary” is the correct spelling, that doesn’t make it right. As long as the Chicago Manual of Style prefers e-mail, that usage remains perfectly respectable.
Still, the long drift of usage tends inexorably toward elimination of the superfluous and the fanciful. "Esquimeaux" becomes "Eskimos." The second “i” in “pimiento” is going fast. And who (except a copyeditor) knows that Fels-Naptha soap is misspelled? I have no doubt that a few years from now “email” will be the generally accepted style. But for now, give me my hyphen, please.
It is curious, though, that Russia—alone of all nations—favors the hyphen in general use. I wonder if a Cyrillic hyphen looks any different from an English one? Google could probably could tell me, if I wanted to pursue it.
Meanwhile, I’ve replied to my British friend: “Comrade! I’ve never told you about my background. It was early days on the Internet, of course, but in the NKVD, we always used a hyphen when we wrote ‘e-mail.’”
I’ve been having a discussion with an author in the U.K. about whether the style should be “e-mail” or “email.” While the style guide of the book we’re working on calls for “e-mail,” he has referred me to “one of my favourite (though least well known) Google products:
http://www.google.com/trends?q=email,+e-mail&ctab=0&geo=all&date=all&sort=0
“Note that if you drill down to the United States, email is still far more popular. Intriguingly it seems that in Russia e-mail is still the preferred way to go.”
Note also, the “u” in “favourite.” I happen to like the British “u,” although I don’t use it, except in one instance. This is “glamour,” which I’m convinced looks more glamourous that the Americanized “glamor.” (I also sometimes use the British “plough” because the word’s orthography looks more like uneven ploughed ground that the American “plow.”)
But what about e-mail vs. email? Now that Google has compiled its statistics on usage worldwide, are we editors obliged to drop the hyphen? Of course not. It depends on the publisher’s preferred style, and to some extent on dictionaries and stylebooks. Just because Stephen King has persuaded half the world that “cemetary” is the correct spelling, that doesn’t make it right. As long as the Chicago Manual of Style prefers e-mail, that usage remains perfectly respectable.
Still, the long drift of usage tends inexorably toward elimination of the superfluous and the fanciful. "Esquimeaux" becomes "Eskimos." The second “i” in “pimiento” is going fast. And who (except a copyeditor) knows that Fels-Naptha soap is misspelled? I have no doubt that a few years from now “email” will be the generally accepted style. But for now, give me my hyphen, please.
It is curious, though, that Russia—alone of all nations—favors the hyphen in general use. I wonder if a Cyrillic hyphen looks any different from an English one? Google could probably could tell me, if I wanted to pursue it.
Meanwhile, I’ve replied to my British friend: “Comrade! I’ve never told you about my background. It was early days on the Internet, of course, but in the NKVD, we always used a hyphen when we wrote ‘e-mail.’”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Quandaries
Wow, it's been a long time since I was here. I'll bet even Jerry (my only reader at last count) has given up. Oh well, oh hell.
I've just posted the following on my www.greenmarketpress.com blog for Nov. 28. But if you stumble into Editorland, you can say you saw it here first. Here goes:
QUANDARIES
When I feel like pontificating about editing, I usually do it on my Editorland blog, which at last count was read occasionally by one other person. So I’m pretty safe there.
But today I feel moved to muse about a curious condition of editing, or more particularly proofreading. This will not be a pontification, because I have no answer to the problem posed.
The condition has to do with (1) the desire and need of copyeditors and proofreaders to have “bright lines”—definitive answers—in order to do their jobs, and (2) the fact that the rest of the world, including writers and readers, seldom gives a damn.
Here’s an example. I work with writers who produce material that has many lists. These are usually prefaced with an introductory sentence along the lines of “There are five conditions, as follows:” or “The following steps complete the operation:”
Note the colon. The Chicago Manual of Style and I agree that it should be there in each of these cases.
But what about this example? “The following six steps are always necessary, and the operation will fail if you neglect any of them.”
This looks like a simple statement to me—one that should end with a period, even though the next thing up is a list. So I’ve performed a colonectomy.
But I know I’m not going to get by with this when the copy reaches the proofreaders. They want a bright line, either all periods or all colons after all sentences containing the word “following.” So did I when I was on the copy desk. I didn’t have time to stop and reason about whether a colon or a period was required in a particular instance. I just wanted to zip through the copy and go home.
Now that I’m a writer (and an editor supervising writers), I can live happily with ambiguity. I trust the colon/no colon decision to my ear, knowing 999 of 1,000 readers won’t even notice (and the remaining one is locked up in an institution).
But the proofreaders are waiting, waiting. I can hear them muttering. And that creaking sound. It’s the tumbril, isn’t it?
I've just posted the following on my www.greenmarketpress.com blog for Nov. 28. But if you stumble into Editorland, you can say you saw it here first. Here goes:
QUANDARIES
When I feel like pontificating about editing, I usually do it on my Editorland blog, which at last count was read occasionally by one other person. So I’m pretty safe there.
But today I feel moved to muse about a curious condition of editing, or more particularly proofreading. This will not be a pontification, because I have no answer to the problem posed.
The condition has to do with (1) the desire and need of copyeditors and proofreaders to have “bright lines”—definitive answers—in order to do their jobs, and (2) the fact that the rest of the world, including writers and readers, seldom gives a damn.
Here’s an example. I work with writers who produce material that has many lists. These are usually prefaced with an introductory sentence along the lines of “There are five conditions, as follows:” or “The following steps complete the operation:”
Note the colon. The Chicago Manual of Style and I agree that it should be there in each of these cases.
But what about this example? “The following six steps are always necessary, and the operation will fail if you neglect any of them.”
This looks like a simple statement to me—one that should end with a period, even though the next thing up is a list. So I’ve performed a colonectomy.
But I know I’m not going to get by with this when the copy reaches the proofreaders. They want a bright line, either all periods or all colons after all sentences containing the word “following.” So did I when I was on the copy desk. I didn’t have time to stop and reason about whether a colon or a period was required in a particular instance. I just wanted to zip through the copy and go home.
Now that I’m a writer (and an editor supervising writers), I can live happily with ambiguity. I trust the colon/no colon decision to my ear, knowing 999 of 1,000 readers won’t even notice (and the remaining one is locked up in an institution).
But the proofreaders are waiting, waiting. I can hear them muttering. And that creaking sound. It’s the tumbril, isn’t it?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
NCIS can't spell
Jethro, Abby, Ducky, et al., are wonderful folks but they can't spell. Or rather, the people who write their promotions can't. The blurb on the back of the DVD for the first complete season notes that the show is "taught, smart and wonderfully unpredictable." There's a teaching moment here. Obviously the writer wanted "taut" and either didn't know how to spell it or (more likely) was done in by Spell-Check. Happens all the time.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Oh, God, are we sorry!
It was a correction for the ages---the New York Times's grovel over the many errors in its obituary of Walter Cronkite:
"An appraisal on Saturday about Walter Cronkite's career included a number of errors. In some copies, it misstated the date that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed and referred incorrectly to Mr. Cronkite's coverage of D-Day. Dr. King was killed on April 4, 1968, not April 30. Mr. Cronkite covered the D-Day landing from a warplane; he did not storm the beaches. In addition, Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon on July 20, 1969, not July 26. "The CBS Evening News" overtook "The Huntley-Brinkley Report" on NBC in the ratings during the 1967-68 television season, not after Chet Huntley retired in 1970. A communications satellite used to relay correspondents' reports from around the world was Telstar, not Telestar. Howard K. Smith was not one of the CBS correspondents Mr. Cronkite would turn to for reports from the field after he became anchor of "The CBS Evening News" in 1962; he left CBS before Mr. Cronkite was the anchor. Because of an editing error, the appraisal also misstated the name of the news agency for which Mr. Cronkite was Moscow bureau chief after World War II. At that time it was United Press, not United Press International."
How did this happen? I'm informed (and the story is a familiar one) that the reporter who got Cronkite's prepared obit from the archive, several days before his death, wrote at the top that it needed to be fact-checked. But on Saturday night, the weekend crew simply grabbed what it had and slapped it into print. That's why it's the weekend crew.
"An appraisal on Saturday about Walter Cronkite's career included a number of errors. In some copies, it misstated the date that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was killed and referred incorrectly to Mr. Cronkite's coverage of D-Day. Dr. King was killed on April 4, 1968, not April 30. Mr. Cronkite covered the D-Day landing from a warplane; he did not storm the beaches. In addition, Neil Armstrong set foot on the moon on July 20, 1969, not July 26. "The CBS Evening News" overtook "The Huntley-Brinkley Report" on NBC in the ratings during the 1967-68 television season, not after Chet Huntley retired in 1970. A communications satellite used to relay correspondents' reports from around the world was Telstar, not Telestar. Howard K. Smith was not one of the CBS correspondents Mr. Cronkite would turn to for reports from the field after he became anchor of "The CBS Evening News" in 1962; he left CBS before Mr. Cronkite was the anchor. Because of an editing error, the appraisal also misstated the name of the news agency for which Mr. Cronkite was Moscow bureau chief after World War II. At that time it was United Press, not United Press International."
How did this happen? I'm informed (and the story is a familiar one) that the reporter who got Cronkite's prepared obit from the archive, several days before his death, wrote at the top that it needed to be fact-checked. But on Saturday night, the weekend crew simply grabbed what it had and slapped it into print. That's why it's the weekend crew.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
'Begging the Question'
A clipping from April 6, 1997, fell out of a book today. It was a column by James J. Kilpatrick dealing with misuse of the term "begging the question." "Kilpo" notes that the term means simply "to assume the proof of a proposition not yet proved." It does not mean "evading, ducking, sidestepping, or hook-sliding around a question!"
Wilson Follett, in Modern American Usage, is a little more informative. "Begging the question," he says, is "using as an argument a disguised form of the proposition to be proved." If the proposition to be proved is that cannibals are immoral, it's begging the question to say, "How can such savages be moral when they kill people in order to eat them?"
As with some other things, "begging the question" is best left to the debaters and logicians.
Wilson Follett, in Modern American Usage, is a little more informative. "Begging the question," he says, is "using as an argument a disguised form of the proposition to be proved." If the proposition to be proved is that cannibals are immoral, it's begging the question to say, "How can such savages be moral when they kill people in order to eat them?"
As with some other things, "begging the question" is best left to the debaters and logicians.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Attic time
Every editor should have a well-stocked mental attic, but mine overfloweth and probably needs a good housecleaning.
A writer I'm working with assayed a little thought experiment today, involving a trip to JCPenney during which someone unexpectedly finds himself eating a burger in McDonald's. The writer's point: give people what they expect when they visit your web site. Don't throw them curves.
He's right, of course, but still. . . .
I hadn't read it for 50 years, but I suddenly flashed on an argument between two poets, described by G.K. Chesterton in The Man Who Was Thursday (Boni and Liveright, 1908). One poet, arguing for order, cites the London subway as the most poetical thing in the world. The other, an anarchist, derides him. Why do people look old and tired in the subway, he asks, and then answers: It's because they know exactly where they're going. "It is because after they have passed Sloane Square they know that the next station must be Victoria, and nothing but Victoria. Oh, their wild rapture! oh, their eyes like stars and their souls again in Eden, if the next station were unaccountably Baker Street!"
Chesterton came up right on cue (the book was within reach) when I considered my writer's horror at the idea of rounding a corner in Penney's and suddenly being in McDonald's. "You know," I thought, "that actually would be kind of cool."
I
A writer I'm working with assayed a little thought experiment today, involving a trip to JCPenney during which someone unexpectedly finds himself eating a burger in McDonald's. The writer's point: give people what they expect when they visit your web site. Don't throw them curves.
He's right, of course, but still. . . .
I hadn't read it for 50 years, but I suddenly flashed on an argument between two poets, described by G.K. Chesterton in The Man Who Was Thursday (Boni and Liveright, 1908). One poet, arguing for order, cites the London subway as the most poetical thing in the world. The other, an anarchist, derides him. Why do people look old and tired in the subway, he asks, and then answers: It's because they know exactly where they're going. "It is because after they have passed Sloane Square they know that the next station must be Victoria, and nothing but Victoria. Oh, their wild rapture! oh, their eyes like stars and their souls again in Eden, if the next station were unaccountably Baker Street!"
Chesterton came up right on cue (the book was within reach) when I considered my writer's horror at the idea of rounding a corner in Penney's and suddenly being in McDonald's. "You know," I thought, "that actually would be kind of cool."
I
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Editing Palin
Here's the URL for a pretty funny piece in Vanity Fair, dissecting Sarah Palin's resignation speech from a copyeditor's viewpoint:
http://www.vanityfair.com/politics/features/2009/07/palin-speech-edit-200907?currentPage=1
Some of the mark-up was certainly justified. But in fairness, I have to say I've seen the same kind of red-pencil job done on Lincoln's Gettysburg Address ("Why say 'four score and seven years' ago, Mr. Lincoln? Readers don't have time for this flowery language. If you mean 87 years, just say 87.")
http://www.vanityfair.com/politics/features/2009/07/palin-speech-edit-200907?currentPage=1
Some of the mark-up was certainly justified. But in fairness, I have to say I've seen the same kind of red-pencil job done on Lincoln's Gettysburg Address ("Why say 'four score and seven years' ago, Mr. Lincoln? Readers don't have time for this flowery language. If you mean 87 years, just say 87.")
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A point on modifiers
An interesting little point came up in some tech editing recently. The discussion involved something called a "post view"---a view on which various postings appear. The question was: Should it be "post view" when only one post is shown but "posts view" when there are more than one?
The answer is that it's always "post view." "Post" is an adjective describing what kind of view it is, and doesn't indicate the number of posts. A daily-life example would be this: My library card is valid at all libraries in my county, but it's still just a library card, not a "libraries card."
The answer is that it's always "post view." "Post" is an adjective describing what kind of view it is, and doesn't indicate the number of posts. A daily-life example would be this: My library card is valid at all libraries in my county, but it's still just a library card, not a "libraries card."
Friday, July 3, 2009
Communication(s)
I haven't been able to find a truly definitive answer to this one, but the dictionary is reasonably clear. When you're describing a broad field or network, it's "communications"; when the reference is more specific or targeted, it's "communication."
So it's the Federal Communications Commission, because the FCC deals with a broad and varied field. But it would be "the art of human communication," because the writer is talking here about one piece of a broad field---communication between humans.
This came up recently in a discuss of "covert communication" vs. "covert communications." My vote would be to keep it singular, unless more than one covert communication is involved. It can be argued, of course, that there is a broad field called "covert communications," but I'm not persuaded.
Schools can't agree, either. There are departments of mass communication and mass communications. But I'm for limiting the use of the plural.
Is that all clear? I thought not.
So it's the Federal Communications Commission, because the FCC deals with a broad and varied field. But it would be "the art of human communication," because the writer is talking here about one piece of a broad field---communication between humans.
This came up recently in a discuss of "covert communication" vs. "covert communications." My vote would be to keep it singular, unless more than one covert communication is involved. It can be argued, of course, that there is a broad field called "covert communications," but I'm not persuaded.
Schools can't agree, either. There are departments of mass communication and mass communications. But I'm for limiting the use of the plural.
Is that all clear? I thought not.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Monday, June 22, 2009
Received wisdom
The British government is advising teachers not to teach the old "i before e, except after c" rule, since it has so many exceptions. This is probably just as well. The rule has saved me many times, but has led to confusion almost as often. Expansions of the rule help only a little, as:
"I before e, except after c,
or when sounded like a
as in neighbor and weigh,
and except seize and seizure,
and also leisure,
weird, height, and either,
forfeit and neither."
To which one writer adds,
"and on weekends and holidays
and all throughout May."
The "rule" indeed has too many exceptions, including an interesting one pointed out by Wikipedia: "oneiromancies" (divinations by dreams), which breaks it twice, in different ways.
So I'm willing to give it up, and consign it to the Museum of Misbegotten Mnemonics.
Alas, with Pluto no longer an official planet, one can't remember the outer planets anymore by reciting "Jerry sneaked under Norma's porch." But I'm clinging to "George eats old gray rats and paints houses yellow," which (as you can see) is an aid to those challenged by the spelling of "geography."
"I before e, except after c,
or when sounded like a
as in neighbor and weigh,
and except seize and seizure,
and also leisure,
weird, height, and either,
forfeit and neither."
To which one writer adds,
"and on weekends and holidays
and all throughout May."
The "rule" indeed has too many exceptions, including an interesting one pointed out by Wikipedia: "oneiromancies" (divinations by dreams), which breaks it twice, in different ways.
So I'm willing to give it up, and consign it to the Museum of Misbegotten Mnemonics.
Alas, with Pluto no longer an official planet, one can't remember the outer planets anymore by reciting "Jerry sneaked under Norma's porch." But I'm clinging to "George eats old gray rats and paints houses yellow," which (as you can see) is an aid to those challenged by the spelling of "geography."
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Cute and beyond
While cleaning out a computer directory tonight I ran across this little essay, which I pass on for what it's worth.
CUTE AND BEYOND
A writer I know classifies preciousness in writing as “cute,” “cutesy,” and “cutesy-poo.”
“Cute” might pass on rare occasions, but “cutesy” never. Anyone committing “cutesy-poo” should have to listen to 24 hours of Christmas carols by Alvin and the Chipmunks. We are in a region here beyond the writer who is simply trying to be funny and falling short. No writer ever aimed at cute and beyond — it’s a pure gift, from a vengeful God.
Let’s suppose the intention is to explain something in simple terms to an audience the writer suspects of being dim-witted. The writer is vaguely conscious of being dull, talking down, or otherwise offending, and tries to conceal this beneath a mask of jocularity. An example [by an imagined writer who has just made a point by using a snide comparison to Leonardo DeCaprio]: “Now before all you ladies go looking for rocks to throw at me, I’ll promise never again to say anything even a teensy-weensy bit unkind about dear Leonardo. My bad, slap, slap.”
That’s offensive in more ways than I want to think about. I’m not looking for a rock. I’m looking for my Alvin and the Chipmunks record.
CUTE AND BEYOND
A writer I know classifies preciousness in writing as “cute,” “cutesy,” and “cutesy-poo.”
“Cute” might pass on rare occasions, but “cutesy” never. Anyone committing “cutesy-poo” should have to listen to 24 hours of Christmas carols by Alvin and the Chipmunks. We are in a region here beyond the writer who is simply trying to be funny and falling short. No writer ever aimed at cute and beyond — it’s a pure gift, from a vengeful God.
Let’s suppose the intention is to explain something in simple terms to an audience the writer suspects of being dim-witted. The writer is vaguely conscious of being dull, talking down, or otherwise offending, and tries to conceal this beneath a mask of jocularity. An example [by an imagined writer who has just made a point by using a snide comparison to Leonardo DeCaprio]: “Now before all you ladies go looking for rocks to throw at me, I’ll promise never again to say anything even a teensy-weensy bit unkind about dear Leonardo. My bad, slap, slap.”
That’s offensive in more ways than I want to think about. I’m not looking for a rock. I’m looking for my Alvin and the Chipmunks record.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Those pesky collective nouns
A copyediting associate has raised some questions about the use of "forensics." The easy part: "Forensics" is the collective noun that takes a singular verb, while "forensic" is the adjective, as in "forensic medicine."
So far, so good. But should the black bag of the practitioner be called a "forensic toolkit" or a "forensics toolkit"? The argument for the latter is that "forensic medicine" is a special type of medicine, but a toolkit is just a toolkit that happens to be filled with the tools used in the art.
The argument is appealing, but this way lies madness and I resolutely turn my back on it. Make the adjective "forensic" in all cases.
So far, so good. But should the black bag of the practitioner be called a "forensic toolkit" or a "forensics toolkit"? The argument for the latter is that "forensic medicine" is a special type of medicine, but a toolkit is just a toolkit that happens to be filled with the tools used in the art.
The argument is appealing, but this way lies madness and I resolutely turn my back on it. Make the adjective "forensic" in all cases.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Just making sure?
Headline on the web this morning: "Police shot dead pensioner"
Nothing like being sure.
God, I love editing. I can abuse people and they can't do a thing about it.
Nothing like being sure.
God, I love editing. I can abuse people and they can't do a thing about it.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Agree to disagree?
I'm editing a couple of books in which the authors routinely violate the presumed agreement of subjects and pronouns.
I say "presumed" because it's not a given anymore. How often do you see a construction like this: "If anyone thinks they can get away with this, I have news for them"? My authors don't do this just occasionally, but hundreds of times. It's called "notional" agreement, meaning that if a reader has a general notion of what's meant, it's all right.
And now you expect me to froth at the mouth, right?
Sorry, I'm no longer a member of the Froth Estate. I hate the disagreement, but what are the alternatives?
Historically, the sentence above would read, "If anyone thinks he can get away with this, I have news for him." There was no question that "anyone" was singular and needed a singular pronoun. "He" was taken in this case to be shorthand for "humankind" and to cover both men and women. The push for genderless language (to which I subscribe most of the time) has made this no longer acceptible in polite society.
One can always write: "If anyone thinks he or she can get away with this, I have news for him or her." But that's hopelessly wooden, and simply calls attention to the writer's frantic desire not to be thought sexist. Alternating "he" and "she" for gender balance is only a little less self-conscious.
A book I'm reading uses s/he to get around the problem, hardly an improvement.
Good writers (and editors) can usually reword: "Those who think they can get away with this should think again." But after I've reworded a few hundred times, I get tired of everything being plural. And sometimes a sentence demands a singular. Would you say, "The world's last hermit can do whatever they want"? (And you can't get out of it by saying "he" on the ground that all hermits are male---they aren't.)
So "notional" agreement is gaining ground, and why shouldn't it? Well, for one thing it violates logic and hundreds of years of linguistic history. "They" has been a plural for a long time. It's hard to write "they has been" even with quotation marks to explain that you're thinking singular---"they," the pronoun. But lots of people are managing it these days, and I suspect "they" as a notional singular is here to stay. After all, Chinese ("a lean, mean communicating machine," as a friend puts it) gets by very nicely without endings or special forms to differentiate singular and plural. It's all done with context.
Still, I'm not quite ready to give up and will keep recasting sentences to avoid the problem. I'll use "he or she" occasionally for variety and to stress singularity. If the reference is clearly to a particular man or woman, I'll use whichever pronoun fits. And very rarely, when writing about a solitary hermit (as opposed to other kinds) I may sneak in a masculine pronoun.
Of course, I could follow the suggestion of my friend Sally Hanley and switch over to "she" for all cases, regardless of actual gender. "You guys have had it your way for thousands of years," she says. "Now it's our turn."
I say "presumed" because it's not a given anymore. How often do you see a construction like this: "If anyone thinks they can get away with this, I have news for them"? My authors don't do this just occasionally, but hundreds of times. It's called "notional" agreement, meaning that if a reader has a general notion of what's meant, it's all right.
And now you expect me to froth at the mouth, right?
Sorry, I'm no longer a member of the Froth Estate. I hate the disagreement, but what are the alternatives?
Historically, the sentence above would read, "If anyone thinks he can get away with this, I have news for him." There was no question that "anyone" was singular and needed a singular pronoun. "He" was taken in this case to be shorthand for "humankind" and to cover both men and women. The push for genderless language (to which I subscribe most of the time) has made this no longer acceptible in polite society.
One can always write: "If anyone thinks he or she can get away with this, I have news for him or her." But that's hopelessly wooden, and simply calls attention to the writer's frantic desire not to be thought sexist. Alternating "he" and "she" for gender balance is only a little less self-conscious.
A book I'm reading uses s/he to get around the problem, hardly an improvement.
Good writers (and editors) can usually reword: "Those who think they can get away with this should think again." But after I've reworded a few hundred times, I get tired of everything being plural. And sometimes a sentence demands a singular. Would you say, "The world's last hermit can do whatever they want"? (And you can't get out of it by saying "he" on the ground that all hermits are male---they aren't.)
So "notional" agreement is gaining ground, and why shouldn't it? Well, for one thing it violates logic and hundreds of years of linguistic history. "They" has been a plural for a long time. It's hard to write "they has been" even with quotation marks to explain that you're thinking singular---"they," the pronoun. But lots of people are managing it these days, and I suspect "they" as a notional singular is here to stay. After all, Chinese ("a lean, mean communicating machine," as a friend puts it) gets by very nicely without endings or special forms to differentiate singular and plural. It's all done with context.
Still, I'm not quite ready to give up and will keep recasting sentences to avoid the problem. I'll use "he or she" occasionally for variety and to stress singularity. If the reference is clearly to a particular man or woman, I'll use whichever pronoun fits. And very rarely, when writing about a solitary hermit (as opposed to other kinds) I may sneak in a masculine pronoun.
Of course, I could follow the suggestion of my friend Sally Hanley and switch over to "she" for all cases, regardless of actual gender. "You guys have had it your way for thousands of years," she says. "Now it's our turn."
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Back again
I got too busy editing over the winter to think of writing about editing. But I'll throw out a question in case anyone's still listening.
Which is most: "a few people" or "several people"?
I would have said that "several" is the smaller group (two to four, maybe) and "a few" the larger (say, five to a dozen). Stylebooks have surprisingly little to say about this matter, and the only reference I found tells me I'm flat wrong. "A few" is fewer than "several." Can this be?
Am also finding some authors with an aversion to "allow," as in "doing this allows you more creative freedom." Can anything be wrong with "allow" in this sense? As you can see, I'm afflicted with self-doubt today (a rare affliction).
It's not editing, but Karen and I came back from the Outer Banks with a new favorite fast-food place: "Bob's Cafe: Eat and Get the Hell Out." And I enjoyed the attendant on the flight home. First she said, "Please do not leave your seat back in a reclining position, or any other position in which you could possibly be comfortable." Then as we got ready to leave the plane she announced, "You should refrain from smoking until you reach the arrival lounge, or for the rest of your life."
Okay, I'm started again. And Colin is designing a web site for me, into which Editorland will eventually be folded.
Which is most: "a few people" or "several people"?
I would have said that "several" is the smaller group (two to four, maybe) and "a few" the larger (say, five to a dozen). Stylebooks have surprisingly little to say about this matter, and the only reference I found tells me I'm flat wrong. "A few" is fewer than "several." Can this be?
Am also finding some authors with an aversion to "allow," as in "doing this allows you more creative freedom." Can anything be wrong with "allow" in this sense? As you can see, I'm afflicted with self-doubt today (a rare affliction).
It's not editing, but Karen and I came back from the Outer Banks with a new favorite fast-food place: "Bob's Cafe: Eat and Get the Hell Out." And I enjoyed the attendant on the flight home. First she said, "Please do not leave your seat back in a reclining position, or any other position in which you could possibly be comfortable." Then as we got ready to leave the plane she announced, "You should refrain from smoking until you reach the arrival lounge, or for the rest of your life."
Okay, I'm started again. And Colin is designing a web site for me, into which Editorland will eventually be folded.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Hello, again
Sorry, I got lost somewhere along the campaign trail, and am just finding my way back.
Our president-elect has a reputation for using the language well, so we may not have as much fun with him as with some of his predecessors. In informal speech, he seems to have occasional verb trouble, but no more than most of us. Editorland will stay on watch.
Sarah Palin (aka Tina Fey) might have provided a better target for grammarians and word mavens. In her (so far) brief appearance on the national scene, she did start a vogue for "shout-out" as a noun, which is being picked up and misused freely. A local TV weatherperson reported during this morning's snow flurry that "we'll have reporters all over, giving shout-outs on road conditions." Just tell me, please---no need to shout.
Somewhere along the trail, a headline writer said Palin was "laying low." It wasn't reported what she was laying low---her enemies, maybe?
But all this pales beside the ad in the margin of my computer screen today: "Book Printing in China. Half cost, Very High Qaulity. Quick Delivery than You Thought."
Umm, yes.
Our president-elect has a reputation for using the language well, so we may not have as much fun with him as with some of his predecessors. In informal speech, he seems to have occasional verb trouble, but no more than most of us. Editorland will stay on watch.
Sarah Palin (aka Tina Fey) might have provided a better target for grammarians and word mavens. In her (so far) brief appearance on the national scene, she did start a vogue for "shout-out" as a noun, which is being picked up and misused freely. A local TV weatherperson reported during this morning's snow flurry that "we'll have reporters all over, giving shout-outs on road conditions." Just tell me, please---no need to shout.
Somewhere along the trail, a headline writer said Palin was "laying low." It wasn't reported what she was laying low---her enemies, maybe?
But all this pales beside the ad in the margin of my computer screen today: "Book Printing in China. Half cost, Very High Qaulity. Quick Delivery than You Thought."
Umm, yes.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Arcana
It's always a question when to drop one's objection to a particular "error" of grammar or usage. Should it be when the last living defender of the point is dead? Or does there simply come a time when a distinction has so thoroughly broken down that only one person in a thousand knows or cares?
I encountered such a point this week, in this sentence: "When you first view this feature, you may be dubious about its value."
A distant bell rang. There's a difference, isn't there, between being dubious and being doubtful? A recent (and excellent) authority, Bryan Garner, comments that although "dubious" in this context "has occasionally been criticized, it is now in good use."
So why does it still bother me, faintly? Wilson Follett, an older grammarian whom I admire just this side idolatry, comments of "dubious": "This is an adjective the dictionaries generally fail to make clear. It springs, of course, from doubt, but in what direction does it point? When the word is used with discrimination, the doubt is elsewhere than in the person or thing described as dubious. This person or thing is the object of doubt by another or others, not the author or abode of doubt."
Ah, let me pause a moment to revel in that "abode of doubt"!
Okay, I'm back. This would mean that in my writer's sentence, it's not the viewer who is dubious, but the "feature." The viewer is "doubtful." In this instance, there seems no chance that "dubious" would be misread. But what about: "Dubious readers may raise a question about this feature"? Here it really does sound as if the readers are the cause of the doubt, not its "abode." So maybe there's a distinction here that's worth keeping for a while.
When in doubt (or maybe dubious) about a usage, I sometimes resort to a wonderful book titled English Synonymes Explained in Alphabetical Order, by George Crabb, A.M. My copy was published in 1885. Crabb seems to make little if any distinction between doubtful and dubious, but he expounds at length on the relation of those words to uncertain and precarious. His essay is too delicious not to repeat, almost in its entirety:
"Doubtful and dubious have always a relation to the person forming the opinion on the subject in question; UNCERTAIN and PRECARIOUS are epithets which designate the qualities of the things themselves. Whatever is uncertain may from that very circumstance be doubtful or dubious to those who attempt to determine upon them; but they may be designated for their uncertainty without any regard to the opinions which they may give rise to. A person's coming may be doubtful or uncertain; the length of his stay is oftener described as uncertain than as doubtful. The doubtful is opposed to that on which we form a positive conclusion, the uncertain to that which is definite or prescribed. The efficacy of any medicine is doubtful; the manner of its operation may be uncertain. While our knowledge is limited, we must expect to meet with many things that are doubtful; as everything in the world is expected to change, and all that is future is entirely above our control, we must naturally expect to find everything uncertain but what we see passing before us."
Crabb adds that "precarious is the highest species of uncertainty, applied to such things as depend on future casualties [my note: could this possibly be a misprint for "causalities"? Is it possible for Crabb to err?] in opposition to that which is fixed and determined by design. The weather is uncertain; the subsistence of a person who has no stated income or source of living must be precarious. It is uncertain what day a thing may take place, until it is determined. There is nothing more precarious than what depends upon the favor of princes."
Are we all clear on this, class? Good, because I'm going to bed.
I encountered such a point this week, in this sentence: "When you first view this feature, you may be dubious about its value."
A distant bell rang. There's a difference, isn't there, between being dubious and being doubtful? A recent (and excellent) authority, Bryan Garner, comments that although "dubious" in this context "has occasionally been criticized, it is now in good use."
So why does it still bother me, faintly? Wilson Follett, an older grammarian whom I admire just this side idolatry, comments of "dubious": "This is an adjective the dictionaries generally fail to make clear. It springs, of course, from doubt, but in what direction does it point? When the word is used with discrimination, the doubt is elsewhere than in the person or thing described as dubious. This person or thing is the object of doubt by another or others, not the author or abode of doubt."
Ah, let me pause a moment to revel in that "abode of doubt"!
Okay, I'm back. This would mean that in my writer's sentence, it's not the viewer who is dubious, but the "feature." The viewer is "doubtful." In this instance, there seems no chance that "dubious" would be misread. But what about: "Dubious readers may raise a question about this feature"? Here it really does sound as if the readers are the cause of the doubt, not its "abode." So maybe there's a distinction here that's worth keeping for a while.
When in doubt (or maybe dubious) about a usage, I sometimes resort to a wonderful book titled English Synonymes Explained in Alphabetical Order, by George Crabb, A.M. My copy was published in 1885. Crabb seems to make little if any distinction between doubtful and dubious, but he expounds at length on the relation of those words to uncertain and precarious. His essay is too delicious not to repeat, almost in its entirety:
"Doubtful and dubious have always a relation to the person forming the opinion on the subject in question; UNCERTAIN and PRECARIOUS are epithets which designate the qualities of the things themselves. Whatever is uncertain may from that very circumstance be doubtful or dubious to those who attempt to determine upon them; but they may be designated for their uncertainty without any regard to the opinions which they may give rise to. A person's coming may be doubtful or uncertain; the length of his stay is oftener described as uncertain than as doubtful. The doubtful is opposed to that on which we form a positive conclusion, the uncertain to that which is definite or prescribed. The efficacy of any medicine is doubtful; the manner of its operation may be uncertain. While our knowledge is limited, we must expect to meet with many things that are doubtful; as everything in the world is expected to change, and all that is future is entirely above our control, we must naturally expect to find everything uncertain but what we see passing before us."
Crabb adds that "precarious is the highest species of uncertainty, applied to such things as depend on future casualties [my note: could this possibly be a misprint for "causalities"? Is it possible for Crabb to err?] in opposition to that which is fixed and determined by design. The weather is uncertain; the subsistence of a person who has no stated income or source of living must be precarious. It is uncertain what day a thing may take place, until it is determined. There is nothing more precarious than what depends upon the favor of princes."
Are we all clear on this, class? Good, because I'm going to bed.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
This 'n' that
Sorry to you faithful five readers out there (if that many of you are left). I've been in actual Editorland recently, and haven't been posting. Am deep in a couple of tech-editing jobs and also have articles stacked up for the Tropical Conservation Science e-journal.
A follow on the recent hyphen piece. My local paper headed a story: "High school costs are topic of concern." A hyphen was desperately needed between "high" and "school." This was a story about construction costs for a new high school, not one about the high cost of schooling generally.
Here's a little puzzler from an excellent tech writer: "Don't make your work area meeting central." I read it the first time as "Don't make the meeting in your work area a central part of the process." But of course what the author meant was, "Don't turn your work area into Meeting Central---have your gatherings somewhere else." Capital letters or quotes around "meeting central" would solve the problem.
Finally, there's a lot of subject-pronoun disagreement going around these days.It's a vexing subject, especially to writers, editors, and other grammarians. While I'm all for non-sexist writing, the loss of the simple "he" has done some bad things to style. It's usually easy enough to solve the problem by going to the sexless plural---but what's been lost at times is the ability to focus sharply on the solitary individual. What can you do, for example, with a sentence like this: "As for the lonely author, toiling in his garret, he might as well be the only person left on earth." There's no way to pluralize that, and "he or she" is unbearably awkward.
I suppose the notional "they" will eventually win out, but with a loss to precision. I've been fixing this stuff for so many years that disagreements wave their arms and scream at me.
Why haven't the presidential candidates addressed this pressing issue?
A follow on the recent hyphen piece. My local paper headed a story: "High school costs are topic of concern." A hyphen was desperately needed between "high" and "school." This was a story about construction costs for a new high school, not one about the high cost of schooling generally.
Here's a little puzzler from an excellent tech writer: "Don't make your work area meeting central." I read it the first time as "Don't make the meeting in your work area a central part of the process." But of course what the author meant was, "Don't turn your work area into Meeting Central---have your gatherings somewhere else." Capital letters or quotes around "meeting central" would solve the problem.
Finally, there's a lot of subject-pronoun disagreement going around these days.It's a vexing subject, especially to writers, editors, and other grammarians. While I'm all for non-sexist writing, the loss of the simple "he" has done some bad things to style. It's usually easy enough to solve the problem by going to the sexless plural---but what's been lost at times is the ability to focus sharply on the solitary individual. What can you do, for example, with a sentence like this: "As for the lonely author, toiling in his garret, he might as well be the only person left on earth." There's no way to pluralize that, and "he or she" is unbearably awkward.
I suppose the notional "they" will eventually win out, but with a loss to precision. I've been fixing this stuff for so many years that disagreements wave their arms and scream at me.
Why haven't the presidential candidates addressed this pressing issue?
Monday, September 15, 2008
Hyphen Highlights
An old managing editor once started a hyphen war with a memo that began, “I don’t want to start a hyphen war.” We had a curmudgeonly old copyeditor, not me, who was insisting on “iced-cream cone,” with the “d” and the hyphen. That’s going too far.
With that in mind, I wrote this brief essay for a technical writer (a very good one) with whom I'm working. It's brief, because there are not many hard and fast rules. A lot depends on the writer’s ear.
It’s almost, but not quite, a rule that compound-adjective modifiers (like this one) should be hyphenated. But actually this one would be just about as good without the hyphen: “compound adjective modifiers.” It would be hard to misinterpret this. Same with “hard and fast rules” in the previous paragraph. But I always hyphenate “third-party provider,” because it’s just possible some newbie might read it carelessly as the third of several party providers. Silly, I know, but there you are. I also like the hyphen in a term like “managed-code environment,” because “managed code environment” might be read as a code environment that somehow is itself managed. I’m not bothered much by “a silver bullet solution,” since the term is familiar and not likely to be misread. Terms like “data length issue” and “user error rate” also seem clear enough, although there would be nothing wrong with putting in hyphens. However, “home-brewed data” definitely needs the hyphen. The two parts of that compound adjective are too closely related to go without it.
I went through a phase of hyphenating virtually every compound adjective, until a co-worker threatened to cut off my supply of hyphens. I’ve come around to a fairly simple solution: hyphenate the compound adjective when there’s a chance it will be misread; otherwise don’t worry about it. And try to be consistent.
There are also questions about when a compound has become a single word. “Free form” hasn’t quite made it yet—-and it should still be “a free-form solution,” not a form solution that’s somehow free.
There are other, less troublesome hyphen matters. Stylebooks have lists of words that require a hyphen between the prefix and the main part of the word. I've noticed phrases like “the concepts go hand-in-hand.” Hyphens aren't really needed there, because "hand in hand" isn’t a modifier and the meaning is clear without the hyphens. (But it would be “four-in-hand necktie.”) There’s the wonderful “suspensive hyphen,” as in “four- and five-year-old children.” I’ve speculated that there might even be a “reverse suspensive hyphen” as in “Japanese-Americans and -Canadians,” but so far grammarians aren’t lining up to adopt that one.
In summary, the only real rule is whether meaning is clear, and whether the use (or non-use) of a hyphen will grate on the reader’s ear.
A letter I received today from a pest control company desperately needed a hyphen. “Let us get rid of the pests and then inspect again,” it read. “We will retreat if any activity is sighted.”
Thank you very much, but I don’t want a pest eradicator who flees at the sight of a termite. But if he means “re-treat,” that’s fine.
With that in mind, I wrote this brief essay for a technical writer (a very good one) with whom I'm working. It's brief, because there are not many hard and fast rules. A lot depends on the writer’s ear.
It’s almost, but not quite, a rule that compound-adjective modifiers (like this one) should be hyphenated. But actually this one would be just about as good without the hyphen: “compound adjective modifiers.” It would be hard to misinterpret this. Same with “hard and fast rules” in the previous paragraph. But I always hyphenate “third-party provider,” because it’s just possible some newbie might read it carelessly as the third of several party providers. Silly, I know, but there you are. I also like the hyphen in a term like “managed-code environment,” because “managed code environment” might be read as a code environment that somehow is itself managed. I’m not bothered much by “a silver bullet solution,” since the term is familiar and not likely to be misread. Terms like “data length issue” and “user error rate” also seem clear enough, although there would be nothing wrong with putting in hyphens. However, “home-brewed data” definitely needs the hyphen. The two parts of that compound adjective are too closely related to go without it.
I went through a phase of hyphenating virtually every compound adjective, until a co-worker threatened to cut off my supply of hyphens. I’ve come around to a fairly simple solution: hyphenate the compound adjective when there’s a chance it will be misread; otherwise don’t worry about it. And try to be consistent.
There are also questions about when a compound has become a single word. “Free form” hasn’t quite made it yet—-and it should still be “a free-form solution,” not a form solution that’s somehow free.
There are other, less troublesome hyphen matters. Stylebooks have lists of words that require a hyphen between the prefix and the main part of the word. I've noticed phrases like “the concepts go hand-in-hand.” Hyphens aren't really needed there, because "hand in hand" isn’t a modifier and the meaning is clear without the hyphens. (But it would be “four-in-hand necktie.”) There’s the wonderful “suspensive hyphen,” as in “four- and five-year-old children.” I’ve speculated that there might even be a “reverse suspensive hyphen” as in “Japanese-Americans and -Canadians,” but so far grammarians aren’t lining up to adopt that one.
In summary, the only real rule is whether meaning is clear, and whether the use (or non-use) of a hyphen will grate on the reader’s ear.
A letter I received today from a pest control company desperately needed a hyphen. “Let us get rid of the pests and then inspect again,” it read. “We will retreat if any activity is sighted.”
Thank you very much, but I don’t want a pest eradicator who flees at the sight of a termite. But if he means “re-treat,” that’s fine.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
'Magnitude'
Now and then I run across this sort of expression: "Bigger by several orders of magnitude." But what does that mean? Well, of course, it means "a whole lot bigger," but what is magnitude here (besides a cliche)?
The term has its source in astronomy, and my old Webster's Second defines it in this fashion: "The brightest stars are represented by the lowest (even zero) numbers; thus the brightest celestial body, the sun, is of -26.7 stellar magnitude; Sirius, a very bright star, is 1.6. The decimal magnitudes from -1.4 to 1.5 correspond to the former designation first magnitude; 1.6 to 2.5 second magnitude, and so on. Only stars of the sixth magnitude and brighter are visible to the naked eye."
The point is that when you leave astronomy, you also leave this precision, and the term "magnitude" becomes cloudy. Better to say "four times bigger." Or even "a whole lot bigger." Leave magnitudes to the star-gazers.
The term has its source in astronomy, and my old Webster's Second defines it in this fashion: "The brightest stars are represented by the lowest (even zero) numbers; thus the brightest celestial body, the sun, is of -26.7 stellar magnitude; Sirius, a very bright star, is 1.6. The decimal magnitudes from -1.4 to 1.5 correspond to the former designation first magnitude; 1.6 to 2.5 second magnitude, and so on. Only stars of the sixth magnitude and brighter are visible to the naked eye."
The point is that when you leave astronomy, you also leave this precision, and the term "magnitude" becomes cloudy. Better to say "four times bigger." Or even "a whole lot bigger." Leave magnitudes to the star-gazers.
Lost Causes
Ah, hopefully. It's been coming up in some recent editing, and is a good peg on which to hang a few musings about lost causes.
Probably not one editor in 20 worries anymore about "She'll arrive on time, hopefully." The old wisdom was not to use "hopefully" as an adverb in cases like this, because it can be read as qualifying the preceding action. "She'll arrive on time, in a hopeful manner." Better, curmudgeonly editors said, to write, "It's hoped she'll arrive on time."
The question is always when to decide that an old rule is really dead and can be abandoned. I'm almost (but not quite) ready to give up on "hopefully." The test to me is whether there's still anybody out there who knows or cares. As long as there may be, it costs nothing to get rid of "hopefully."
An even more lost cause (if there can be degrees) is the ancient rule not to use "convince" with an infinitive. Or perhaps it's not really lost, since Bryan Garner makes the distinction in his excellent and recent Dictionary of Modern American Usage: "In the best usage, one persuades another to do something but convinces another of something." So I'm still hanging in on this one, too.
Garner also expounds at some length on "hopefully," citing arguments for and against. But he ends by labeling it a "skunked term"---one so vexed that you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. "Avoid it in all senses if you're concerned with your credibility," he says.
Editors begin life struggling to know everything, and usually reach a point where they feel they've succeeded. They know not to use host as a verb and to say half-staff instead of half-mast when on land. Then after a few more years, if they're really good, they realize they don't know much at all. As I wrote once in a little book titled Dear Viola: "The hardest thing for editors to accept, as they wield their little brooms, is their helplessness in the face of chaos. The greatest editor who ever lived knew only a nanofraction of what there is to know about language and the world. Once editors realize this, they can put away their ulcer medicine."
Probably not one editor in 20 worries anymore about "She'll arrive on time, hopefully." The old wisdom was not to use "hopefully" as an adverb in cases like this, because it can be read as qualifying the preceding action. "She'll arrive on time, in a hopeful manner." Better, curmudgeonly editors said, to write, "It's hoped she'll arrive on time."
The question is always when to decide that an old rule is really dead and can be abandoned. I'm almost (but not quite) ready to give up on "hopefully." The test to me is whether there's still anybody out there who knows or cares. As long as there may be, it costs nothing to get rid of "hopefully."
An even more lost cause (if there can be degrees) is the ancient rule not to use "convince" with an infinitive. Or perhaps it's not really lost, since Bryan Garner makes the distinction in his excellent and recent Dictionary of Modern American Usage: "In the best usage, one persuades another to do something but convinces another of something." So I'm still hanging in on this one, too.
Garner also expounds at some length on "hopefully," citing arguments for and against. But he ends by labeling it a "skunked term"---one so vexed that you're damned if you do and damned if you don't. "Avoid it in all senses if you're concerned with your credibility," he says.
Editors begin life struggling to know everything, and usually reach a point where they feel they've succeeded. They know not to use host as a verb and to say half-staff instead of half-mast when on land. Then after a few more years, if they're really good, they realize they don't know much at all. As I wrote once in a little book titled Dear Viola: "The hardest thing for editors to accept, as they wield their little brooms, is their helplessness in the face of chaos. The greatest editor who ever lived knew only a nanofraction of what there is to know about language and the world. Once editors realize this, they can put away their ulcer medicine."
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Lovely Words
A couple of wonderful words have come Editorland's way recently. One is a tech term, "automagically," to describe processes that happen in the background of a computer application to produce desired results without the user knowing why or how.
The other, even more wonderful, is "voorwerp," a new class of astronomical object just discovered by a Dutch schoolteacher, Hanny van Arkel. Reuters describes a voorwerp as "a cosmic ghost, a strange gaseous object with a hole in the middle."
Originally known as "Hanny's voorwerp" (the Dutch word for object), voorwerp seems to be taking its place in the scientific lexicon along with such other delights as "charmed quarks." I'm thinking of automagically combining the two concepts above. The computer techs I work with engage in something called object-oriented programming (OOP); in its stranger, more gaseous aspects, I'd like to propose that this be called voorwerp-oriented programming, or VOOP.
Voorwerps, incidentally, are green.
The other, even more wonderful, is "voorwerp," a new class of astronomical object just discovered by a Dutch schoolteacher, Hanny van Arkel. Reuters describes a voorwerp as "a cosmic ghost, a strange gaseous object with a hole in the middle."
Originally known as "Hanny's voorwerp" (the Dutch word for object), voorwerp seems to be taking its place in the scientific lexicon along with such other delights as "charmed quarks." I'm thinking of automagically combining the two concepts above. The computer techs I work with engage in something called object-oriented programming (OOP); in its stranger, more gaseous aspects, I'd like to propose that this be called voorwerp-oriented programming, or VOOP.
Voorwerps, incidentally, are green.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The Worst Kind
A writer I'm working with sent a piece that said taking certain steps would avoid "unwanted aggravation." Guess that's in contrast to the desirable kind.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
On Writing
A friend just asked me to critique two music reviews written by a friend of his step-daughter's. The friend will be a junior at Indiana University this fall, and is thinking of changing his major from optometry to journalism. Here was my advice.
* * *
Without reading the two reviews, my response would probably have been “stick with optometry—you’ll make a better living with less pain than you would as a writer.”
But that’s hardly responsive, and it’s unfairly discouraging to the writer. He writes as well as most student journalists (better than many) and has some command of his subject. His sentences are short and his grammatical bloopers few. So the quick answer is sure, he could segue from optometry to journalism and end up writing for newspapers (or more likely the Web). He could get a well-paid public relations job, maybe in the music industry. He’d have to work hard and practice, but IU has an excellent journalism school. Of the 10 newspaper interns I’m mentoring this summer, five are from there—half the staff of the Daily Student, it seems.
It’s his interest in popular-music criticism that leads me to say more. I think this is a field with booby traps. It can attract writers who know plenty about music but are lazy about writing. Just for fun, I googled “Spoon” and pulled up a Jan. 28, 2000, Village Voice review. It’s titled “Total Systems Failure” and reviews the songs by Spoon attacking the band’s former record company. Your step-daughter’s friend will know all about this dust-up.
The writer knows an immense amount about popular music, and the problem is that he tells it all. It’s a terrible “look how much I know” review. One of his sentences is 260 words long. He’s trying for smash impact but it doesn’t work because the sentence isn’t well constructed—it’s just a blivet of words. (Blivet: ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack.) And yet he writes for a well-known publication. He just doesn’t write well for it. And he doesn’t even mention Spoon until the second page of his review. It’s as though a military writer analyzing the battle of Porkchop Hill began with Hannibal crossing the Alps.
So there are a lot a pitfalls on the way to writing well, and writers spend their lives trying to avoid them. I see that I’ve just written “a lot”—I like that little phrase, and a writer friend recently got after me for using it so much. For a while I had my computer programmed so that whenever I typed “a lot” it came up as “@$*5#!@&.” This hasn’t broken me of the habit, but at least I’m more aware.
Your review writer has a few of these tics. It’s easy to write about “haunting” piano music and music that is “unabashedly fun.” Everybody does it, and that’s the problem. Examine the idea of “unabashedly fun” and it doesn’t mean much. Are we abashed at having fun? Not usually, and what does that word mean anyhow?
On the other hand (“she had warts,” a friend of mine used to remark whenever he heard that clichéd phrase)—on the other hand, the review writer shows some real promise. He could have revised slightly and written: “Until the closing track, ‘Black Like Me,’ the album is catchy and fun. It sounds like one heck of a party, with a long, lonely walk home.”
That’s memorable. It also avoids “poignant,” an overworked atmosphere word, and it ends with the lonely walk, not the name of the track.
I could nitpick a little grammar. No student writer I know has a glimmer of how to make pronouns agree with their subjects. Spoon is singular—it produces “its” songs, not “their” songs.
But I can’t come down on your writer very hard. He writes well and his sentences are usually short and well constructed. He knows to vary length and construction to keep from sounding like a Dick & Jane primer. Believe me, this is no small thing. He has the basic tools to become a writer, and I’d have no qualms about encouraging him, if it’s what he really wants to do. He needs to read a lot. He needs to read Rolling Stone faithfully and learn to distinguish between the writers who are doing it brilliantly and those who are just getting by.
And he should keep optometry in reserve, in case writing doesn’t work out.
* * *
Without reading the two reviews, my response would probably have been “stick with optometry—you’ll make a better living with less pain than you would as a writer.”
But that’s hardly responsive, and it’s unfairly discouraging to the writer. He writes as well as most student journalists (better than many) and has some command of his subject. His sentences are short and his grammatical bloopers few. So the quick answer is sure, he could segue from optometry to journalism and end up writing for newspapers (or more likely the Web). He could get a well-paid public relations job, maybe in the music industry. He’d have to work hard and practice, but IU has an excellent journalism school. Of the 10 newspaper interns I’m mentoring this summer, five are from there—half the staff of the Daily Student, it seems.
It’s his interest in popular-music criticism that leads me to say more. I think this is a field with booby traps. It can attract writers who know plenty about music but are lazy about writing. Just for fun, I googled “Spoon” and pulled up a Jan. 28, 2000, Village Voice review. It’s titled “Total Systems Failure” and reviews the songs by Spoon attacking the band’s former record company. Your step-daughter’s friend will know all about this dust-up.
The writer knows an immense amount about popular music, and the problem is that he tells it all. It’s a terrible “look how much I know” review. One of his sentences is 260 words long. He’s trying for smash impact but it doesn’t work because the sentence isn’t well constructed—it’s just a blivet of words. (Blivet: ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack.) And yet he writes for a well-known publication. He just doesn’t write well for it. And he doesn’t even mention Spoon until the second page of his review. It’s as though a military writer analyzing the battle of Porkchop Hill began with Hannibal crossing the Alps.
So there are a lot a pitfalls on the way to writing well, and writers spend their lives trying to avoid them. I see that I’ve just written “a lot”—I like that little phrase, and a writer friend recently got after me for using it so much. For a while I had my computer programmed so that whenever I typed “a lot” it came up as “@$*5#!@&.” This hasn’t broken me of the habit, but at least I’m more aware.
Your review writer has a few of these tics. It’s easy to write about “haunting” piano music and music that is “unabashedly fun.” Everybody does it, and that’s the problem. Examine the idea of “unabashedly fun” and it doesn’t mean much. Are we abashed at having fun? Not usually, and what does that word mean anyhow?
On the other hand (“she had warts,” a friend of mine used to remark whenever he heard that clichéd phrase)—on the other hand, the review writer shows some real promise. He could have revised slightly and written: “Until the closing track, ‘Black Like Me,’ the album is catchy and fun. It sounds like one heck of a party, with a long, lonely walk home.”
That’s memorable. It also avoids “poignant,” an overworked atmosphere word, and it ends with the lonely walk, not the name of the track.
I could nitpick a little grammar. No student writer I know has a glimmer of how to make pronouns agree with their subjects. Spoon is singular—it produces “its” songs, not “their” songs.
But I can’t come down on your writer very hard. He writes well and his sentences are usually short and well constructed. He knows to vary length and construction to keep from sounding like a Dick & Jane primer. Believe me, this is no small thing. He has the basic tools to become a writer, and I’d have no qualms about encouraging him, if it’s what he really wants to do. He needs to read a lot. He needs to read Rolling Stone faithfully and learn to distinguish between the writers who are doing it brilliantly and those who are just getting by.
And he should keep optometry in reserve, in case writing doesn’t work out.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
The Editor as Indian Tracker
Just a story this time.
I do a little editing for Empty Bowl Press, run by my friend Mike O'Connor at Port Townsend, Wash. Mike mentioned recently that the EB staff, as they reviewed my editing of their new book, Working the Woods, Working the Sea, kept remarking, "Who IS this guy?" That was a reference, Mike said, to the relentless pursuer(s) of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Somehow I'd missed that famous flick (one of many lacunae in my cultural knowledge), but I immediately got it from Netflix. The parallel was obvious between the pursuers and copyeditors, who also are faceless, implacable, and always on your trail.
I told Mike this, and he responded, "Yes, you are that Indian tracker."
I'm proud, and not too quietly I guess, since I'm telling about it here.
I do a little editing for Empty Bowl Press, run by my friend Mike O'Connor at Port Townsend, Wash. Mike mentioned recently that the EB staff, as they reviewed my editing of their new book, Working the Woods, Working the Sea, kept remarking, "Who IS this guy?" That was a reference, Mike said, to the relentless pursuer(s) of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
Somehow I'd missed that famous flick (one of many lacunae in my cultural knowledge), but I immediately got it from Netflix. The parallel was obvious between the pursuers and copyeditors, who also are faceless, implacable, and always on your trail.
I told Mike this, and he responded, "Yes, you are that Indian tracker."
I'm proud, and not too quietly I guess, since I'm telling about it here.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Truth will out?
My favorite conservative has just written to point out some words of Supreme Court Justice Anthony Kennedy in an opinion throwing out the death penalty for a rapist. The justice, according to CNN, wrote that there would be "difficulties in administering the penalty to ensure its arbitrary and capricious application."
My correspondent adds: "I'm not sure how we conservatives are going to get along if people we depend on, like the Supreme Court, to operate our agenda of repression start being honest about why we do things."
Lest my other favorite conservative take umbrage, let me add that this was all in jest (I think).
As an editor, I noticed an oddity in the CNN account---the rapist's last name also is Kennedy. Some reporters might have written "Justice Anthony Kennedy (no relation)," but the CNN writer wisely refrained. Some explanations are a bridge too far. I remember a reporter who once began a story: "Joe Anonymous (not his real name)."
My correspondent adds: "I'm not sure how we conservatives are going to get along if people we depend on, like the Supreme Court, to operate our agenda of repression start being honest about why we do things."
Lest my other favorite conservative take umbrage, let me add that this was all in jest (I think).
As an editor, I noticed an oddity in the CNN account---the rapist's last name also is Kennedy. Some reporters might have written "Justice Anthony Kennedy (no relation)," but the CNN writer wisely refrained. Some explanations are a bridge too far. I remember a reporter who once began a story: "Joe Anonymous (not his real name)."
Friday, June 13, 2008
Editing a cover letter
Editing comes in many forms, and this afternoon I've been working on a cover letter for a former student whose internship I supervised a year ago. Here's the advice (with enough removed or changed so the letter writer can't be identified).
Dear________,
That's as good as most cover letters I've seen in a lifetime of reading them. The only thing that seriously worried me was "I thrive off vivacity." I don't know what that means, but it sounds like someone who may not be as serious about the job as I'd like. Let the receptionist be vivacious and perky---you're a serious professional. (That's not a slam at receptionists, who are supposed to be cheery---the jobs are just different.)
I could have stopped there, but got interested (and challenged) to figure out what I'd want to see if I were an employer reading your letter. I've sent you back a tightly edited version that's about a third shorter than the original. Here's why.
A cover letter is read very quickly. It needs to be short, to the point, and not repeat much of the resume. It should avoid anything (anything!) that might make the reader think "Hmmm" or worse, "Ho-hum." It should showcase one or two strong points. It should focus on the job, not use "I" too many times, and not appear to be straining.
In your letter, I cut some of the secondary school newspaper jobs. They're on the resume, as is the name of the newspaper. I've highlighted the editor-in-chief job and its management function---fill in the size of your staff. I've really highlighted the Pulliam Internship; you may not have known you were one of 60 applicants, but you were. That's impressive.
I cut out "recent graduate." The employer can figure that out from your resume---don't give her a chance to think "Oh gosh, another beginner" when she reads the letter. Don't mention Macintosh or even computer skills in the letter---that's all on the resume. Everybody has computer skills these days, and the reader of the letter may not be a Mac person. Give the salary figures, if requested, but keep them simple. The HSPA provided $3,000 for the summer. Your school-newspaper pay worked out simply to $140 a week. Avoid clunky terms like "biweekly stipend." Don't put up signposts for the reader: "As you can see in my resume." If you do the cover letter well, she'll read the resume. Just say boldly that you're well-organized, task-oriented, and a good time manager. Which you are.
Write in the active voice. Avoid anything that might sound like gush, i.e., "I am very excited about the array of opportunities available in the magazine industry." No, you're interested in only one opportunity, the one you're applying for. Also, experienced writers and editors almost never use "very"---it's a weak intensifier that undercuts good writing. Proofread the letter several times, and then have someone else read it. One typo kills your chances. I put the publication's name in italics---shows you know style.
One touch that would make the letter still better---can you legitimately say, "I've read your magazine, and it would be a pleasure, etc."? I'm always impressed if an applicant has actually read my publication---most haven't.
If the letter is well-crafted, the reader will have gotten through it without any red flags being raised, and with a sense that you're a professional who writes well. The letter isn't wordy. It reflects calm assurance, not self-congratulation. Then when she goes on to your resume, she'll think, "Wow, that was really a good letter for someone who just graduated," and you have your foot in the door. You still may lose out to someone with five years of on-the-job experience, but the employer will remember you.
One final thing. If there's anything you don't like about the way I've edited this, or if you feel it doesn't sound like you, then change it. I'm giving you general principles of cover-letter writing, not a magic formula. And I could be wrong on some things. The current wisdom may be against addressing the recipient as "Dear Ms. ______." I still like that personal touch, but it's not a big deal.
When you're hired, and you will be, let me know.
All the best,
Bill
Dear________,
That's as good as most cover letters I've seen in a lifetime of reading them. The only thing that seriously worried me was "I thrive off vivacity." I don't know what that means, but it sounds like someone who may not be as serious about the job as I'd like. Let the receptionist be vivacious and perky---you're a serious professional. (That's not a slam at receptionists, who are supposed to be cheery---the jobs are just different.)
I could have stopped there, but got interested (and challenged) to figure out what I'd want to see if I were an employer reading your letter. I've sent you back a tightly edited version that's about a third shorter than the original. Here's why.
A cover letter is read very quickly. It needs to be short, to the point, and not repeat much of the resume. It should avoid anything (anything!) that might make the reader think "Hmmm" or worse, "Ho-hum." It should showcase one or two strong points. It should focus on the job, not use "I" too many times, and not appear to be straining.
In your letter, I cut some of the secondary school newspaper jobs. They're on the resume, as is the name of the newspaper. I've highlighted the editor-in-chief job and its management function---fill in the size of your staff. I've really highlighted the Pulliam Internship; you may not have known you were one of 60 applicants, but you were. That's impressive.
I cut out "recent graduate." The employer can figure that out from your resume---don't give her a chance to think "Oh gosh, another beginner" when she reads the letter. Don't mention Macintosh or even computer skills in the letter---that's all on the resume. Everybody has computer skills these days, and the reader of the letter may not be a Mac person. Give the salary figures, if requested, but keep them simple. The HSPA provided $3,000 for the summer. Your school-newspaper pay worked out simply to $140 a week. Avoid clunky terms like "biweekly stipend." Don't put up signposts for the reader: "As you can see in my resume." If you do the cover letter well, she'll read the resume. Just say boldly that you're well-organized, task-oriented, and a good time manager. Which you are.
Write in the active voice. Avoid anything that might sound like gush, i.e., "I am very excited about the array of opportunities available in the magazine industry." No, you're interested in only one opportunity, the one you're applying for. Also, experienced writers and editors almost never use "very"---it's a weak intensifier that undercuts good writing. Proofread the letter several times, and then have someone else read it. One typo kills your chances. I put the publication's name in italics---shows you know style.
One touch that would make the letter still better---can you legitimately say, "I've read your magazine, and it would be a pleasure, etc."? I'm always impressed if an applicant has actually read my publication---most haven't.
If the letter is well-crafted, the reader will have gotten through it without any red flags being raised, and with a sense that you're a professional who writes well. The letter isn't wordy. It reflects calm assurance, not self-congratulation. Then when she goes on to your resume, she'll think, "Wow, that was really a good letter for someone who just graduated," and you have your foot in the door. You still may lose out to someone with five years of on-the-job experience, but the employer will remember you.
One final thing. If there's anything you don't like about the way I've edited this, or if you feel it doesn't sound like you, then change it. I'm giving you general principles of cover-letter writing, not a magic formula. And I could be wrong on some things. The current wisdom may be against addressing the recipient as "Dear Ms. ______." I still like that personal touch, but it's not a big deal.
When you're hired, and you will be, let me know.
All the best,
Bill
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Industrial Editing
Some sing the joys of editing (I've done so myself), but those who've been around a while know that much of it is just hard slogging---industrial editing. To quote the late guru John Bremner, "You have to love the thrill of monotony."
Industrial editing requires much patience, the ability to sit in a chair for a long time, and the recognition that you're not going to be entertained very often. Horst Piewak, my old printer friend in Wuerzburg, Germany, has those qualities, which is why the Main Post gave him the job of setting railroad timetables. Karl-Heinz Mack, in UPI Frankfurt, was not exactly an industrial editor, but he also let no tough and knotty job faze him: "Dafuer bin Ich Redaktor!" (For this I am an editor!), he would exclaim as he waded in.
These thoughts are occasioned by some recent technical and scientific editing jobs, notable for their density and pickiness. Some of them involve intensely detailed step-by-step instructions to computer programmers. This is not a field with which I'm intimately familiar, and I don't have to be---technical editors will vet the code. I have to look at organization, syntax, consistency of style, cohesion and coherence (not the same things), and whether headings reflect a logical outline.
Over on the scientific side, the same factors obtain. I'm the pro bono copyeditor for a new on-line journal, Tropical Conservation Science, which is also dense with arcane terms and trade lingo. Industrial editing. (It's not quite pro bono---the editor, a friend, has paid me by adding my name to the magazine's board of directors. At the top of the list is a distinguished scientist from the Smithsonian Institution. At the bottom, 40 names down, am I, which is about the right pecking order.)
Editors become editors (and even industrial editors) by doing it for many years, and by developing a kind of awareness that can read the dullest prose for an hour at a time with exquisite attention. After a few years, it becomes nearly impossible to read for pleasure. The misspelling, the errant comma, are always jumping up and waving. You have arrived as an editor when you find yourself editing the small print on billboards as you sail by at 70 m.p.h.
This is true even in the most abstruse technical and scientific prose. It is why the computer programming book I'm currently editing will have "public directories," not "pubic directories." Spell-check wouldn't have helped there.
But alas, even the most veteran editor can turn this attention only to the work of others. I know (I know!) that I can't edit my own work satisfactorily. Karen helps a lot, but when I opened the first copy of my new book, Places & Stories, my eye went straight to the typo in the punchline of the culminating story. Sigh. I'm correcting it, with pencil, in every copy.
Industrial editing requires much patience, the ability to sit in a chair for a long time, and the recognition that you're not going to be entertained very often. Horst Piewak, my old printer friend in Wuerzburg, Germany, has those qualities, which is why the Main Post gave him the job of setting railroad timetables. Karl-Heinz Mack, in UPI Frankfurt, was not exactly an industrial editor, but he also let no tough and knotty job faze him: "Dafuer bin Ich Redaktor!" (For this I am an editor!), he would exclaim as he waded in.
These thoughts are occasioned by some recent technical and scientific editing jobs, notable for their density and pickiness. Some of them involve intensely detailed step-by-step instructions to computer programmers. This is not a field with which I'm intimately familiar, and I don't have to be---technical editors will vet the code. I have to look at organization, syntax, consistency of style, cohesion and coherence (not the same things), and whether headings reflect a logical outline.
Over on the scientific side, the same factors obtain. I'm the pro bono copyeditor for a new on-line journal, Tropical Conservation Science, which is also dense with arcane terms and trade lingo. Industrial editing. (It's not quite pro bono---the editor, a friend, has paid me by adding my name to the magazine's board of directors. At the top of the list is a distinguished scientist from the Smithsonian Institution. At the bottom, 40 names down, am I, which is about the right pecking order.)
Editors become editors (and even industrial editors) by doing it for many years, and by developing a kind of awareness that can read the dullest prose for an hour at a time with exquisite attention. After a few years, it becomes nearly impossible to read for pleasure. The misspelling, the errant comma, are always jumping up and waving. You have arrived as an editor when you find yourself editing the small print on billboards as you sail by at 70 m.p.h.
This is true even in the most abstruse technical and scientific prose. It is why the computer programming book I'm currently editing will have "public directories," not "pubic directories." Spell-check wouldn't have helped there.
But alas, even the most veteran editor can turn this attention only to the work of others. I know (I know!) that I can't edit my own work satisfactorily. Karen helps a lot, but when I opened the first copy of my new book, Places & Stories, my eye went straight to the typo in the punchline of the culminating story. Sigh. I'm correcting it, with pencil, in every copy.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Pigging Out on Politics?
The current political campaign offers endless pleasures for editors. A pundit wrote recently that Obama was going "full boar" toward Indiana. Well, we are the land of pigs and corn, but what he probably meant was "full bore."
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Headlines
I've written a few thousand newspaper headlines over the years, and it's an art form. Tough to get the nub of a story in half a dozen words that are accurate, fair, and informative. My all-time favorite didn't even appear in print---it was tossed off by my wife Karen in the porch swing one night while we were discussing how we'd capsulize the birth of twin cubs to a famous panda. "That's easy," she said. "Ling-Ling Has Baby-Baby."
Alas, headlines in the current political season are neither as accurate nor as funny as that.
Some of my news these days comes from digests on the Web, and headline quality varies wildly. It's been especially hard for the writers to decide what to do with the Obama-Clinton clashes. This week, Obama answered some criticisms in a temperate manner, but the headline said "lashes out." As a headline writer, I feel verbs like "lash out" should be reserved for remarks that are angry, intemperate, and over the top. But Clinton has had her share of bad headlines, so maybe it all evens out.
The Web headline writers had a tough time after last night's Pennsylvania debate. The early headlines said something like "Candidates on defensive in tense debate." I had just watched the debate, and didn't see all that much defensiveness---and the debate was anything but tense. By the end of the evening, the writers had settled down to "Hillary: Obama Can Win." That was a fairly legitimate news angle, although hardly representive of the whole debate. But then neither was the 20-second "analysis" afterward by an ABC pundit---who apparently saw nothing in the debate but an attempt by Clinton to suggest that dire information would come out about Obama if he were the nominee.
Indeed, she did bring up Obama's service on a foundation board with one of the 1960s Weather People. To which Obama replied that he was eight years old when the Weathermen were active, and anyway Bill Clinton pardoned a couple of them during his presidency. (For me, the exchange at least clarified a recent headline on my supermarket tabloid: "Obama's Terrorist Friend!")
When he was a teenager in Hawaii, Obama sought advice now and then from an elderly black poet and family friend, Frank Marshall Davis, who may or may not have been a Communist in the 1930s. The headline writer for Accuracy in Media didn't hesitate a moment on that one: "Obama's Communist Mentor!" But with Accuracy in Media, we're in Fantasyland.
At the risk of becoming an editing gadfly of the New York Review of Books, I'll mention another curious headline, in its May 1 issue, where Anthony Lewis writes scathingly of the American use of torture in locations around the world, and concludes: "George W. Bush can seek his God's mercy for trying to legitimize torture by Americans. But here on earth he cannot escape judgment. For me he will always be the Torture President."
Strong words, from a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, long identified with the left end of U.S. politics.
What interests me is the headline on Lewis's piece: "The Terror President." That phrase doesn't appear in the text itself, so what happened? Did the NYRB feel that "The Torture President" was a little too far out for its headline? Probably not. My guess is that the headline writer was just dozing a little. After all, both words begin with T.
Alas, headlines in the current political season are neither as accurate nor as funny as that.
Some of my news these days comes from digests on the Web, and headline quality varies wildly. It's been especially hard for the writers to decide what to do with the Obama-Clinton clashes. This week, Obama answered some criticisms in a temperate manner, but the headline said "lashes out." As a headline writer, I feel verbs like "lash out" should be reserved for remarks that are angry, intemperate, and over the top. But Clinton has had her share of bad headlines, so maybe it all evens out.
The Web headline writers had a tough time after last night's Pennsylvania debate. The early headlines said something like "Candidates on defensive in tense debate." I had just watched the debate, and didn't see all that much defensiveness---and the debate was anything but tense. By the end of the evening, the writers had settled down to "Hillary: Obama Can Win." That was a fairly legitimate news angle, although hardly representive of the whole debate. But then neither was the 20-second "analysis" afterward by an ABC pundit---who apparently saw nothing in the debate but an attempt by Clinton to suggest that dire information would come out about Obama if he were the nominee.
Indeed, she did bring up Obama's service on a foundation board with one of the 1960s Weather People. To which Obama replied that he was eight years old when the Weathermen were active, and anyway Bill Clinton pardoned a couple of them during his presidency. (For me, the exchange at least clarified a recent headline on my supermarket tabloid: "Obama's Terrorist Friend!")
When he was a teenager in Hawaii, Obama sought advice now and then from an elderly black poet and family friend, Frank Marshall Davis, who may or may not have been a Communist in the 1930s. The headline writer for Accuracy in Media didn't hesitate a moment on that one: "Obama's Communist Mentor!" But with Accuracy in Media, we're in Fantasyland.
At the risk of becoming an editing gadfly of the New York Review of Books, I'll mention another curious headline, in its May 1 issue, where Anthony Lewis writes scathingly of the American use of torture in locations around the world, and concludes: "George W. Bush can seek his God's mercy for trying to legitimize torture by Americans. But here on earth he cannot escape judgment. For me he will always be the Torture President."
Strong words, from a two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, long identified with the left end of U.S. politics.
What interests me is the headline on Lewis's piece: "The Terror President." That phrase doesn't appear in the text itself, so what happened? Did the NYRB feel that "The Torture President" was a little too far out for its headline? Probably not. My guess is that the headline writer was just dozing a little. After all, both words begin with T.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Curious word and a question
Gary writes to suggest "quantum" as an overused (or misused)word. "In my Physics days (about 2 score back) quantum meant the smallest unit, non-divisable unit, of a physical quantity . . . usually energy. So how did quantum leap get so big?"
I dunno, Gary, but I'll try to find out. Or maybe somebody else out there knows the answer. It seems to me this may be an example of a class of words that have come to mean the opposite of their original sense. I know there are others in this class, and will try to think of them. Again, readers?
Gary's message arrived while I was pondering another odd use of "quantum," in a scientific article I was editing: "In the tropics, changes in the quantum and distribution of rainfall . . . gradually alter the vegetation formation." In this case, it just seems as if the writer is using "quantum" when he means "quantity"---or perhaps it's scientific lingo now to use the fancier word. Still strikes me as odd.
This seems to be the day to appeal to readers. I've just switched my e-mail from insightbb.com to william.bridges1@comcast.net. (Getting this straightened out with Comcast took just a little longer than it took God to create the world.) Since I've been using my old and soon-to-expire Insight address as my username in Google's blogger, I'd like to change it. (Gary's message arrived via Insight.) But Google apparently has no way to change the username on an existing account---or at least I can't find one. I could set up a new account to add to my existing Google accounts, but I don't want to. I just want to put a different username on Editorland. Why can't I do this??? Why is life so difficult???
I dunno, Gary, but I'll try to find out. Or maybe somebody else out there knows the answer. It seems to me this may be an example of a class of words that have come to mean the opposite of their original sense. I know there are others in this class, and will try to think of them. Again, readers?
Gary's message arrived while I was pondering another odd use of "quantum," in a scientific article I was editing: "In the tropics, changes in the quantum and distribution of rainfall . . . gradually alter the vegetation formation." In this case, it just seems as if the writer is using "quantum" when he means "quantity"---or perhaps it's scientific lingo now to use the fancier word. Still strikes me as odd.
This seems to be the day to appeal to readers. I've just switched my e-mail from insightbb.com to william.bridges1@comcast.net. (Getting this straightened out with Comcast took just a little longer than it took God to create the world.) Since I've been using my old and soon-to-expire Insight address as my username in Google's blogger, I'd like to change it. (Gary's message arrived via Insight.) But Google apparently has no way to change the username on an existing account---or at least I can't find one. I could set up a new account to add to my existing Google accounts, but I don't want to. I just want to put a different username on Editorland. Why can't I do this??? Why is life so difficult???
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Political Grammar (2)
Having explored grammatical matters in the Obama and Clinton camps, it's time to visit John McCain. Not McCain himself, as it happens, but an article in the April 17 New York Review of Books, titled "Molehill Politics," by Elizabeth Drew, the NYRB's veteran political writer.
The article notes that an all-out fight to the convention between Obama and Clinton "could only benefit the Republicans' punitive, and unexpected, nominee, John McCain."
"Punitive nominee"? I know it will be a punishing campaign, but surely this should be "putative." Would someone wake the NYRB's copyeditor?
The article notes that an all-out fight to the convention between Obama and Clinton "could only benefit the Republicans' punitive, and unexpected, nominee, John McCain."
"Punitive nominee"? I know it will be a punishing campaign, but surely this should be "putative." Would someone wake the NYRB's copyeditor?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Publishing Power Play
As some of you know, I've published several books (memoirs and poetry among others) with an interesting print-on-demand publisher, Virtual Bookworm. I've been happy that VBW posts my books on Amazon.com, even though most sales come through my own efforts. Now VBW and other POD publishers are calling the attention of their authors to a power play by Amazon, which would in essence require the PODs to have their books printed by Booksurge, an Amazon affiliate, in order to be listed on Amazon. This would drastically increase the cost of such books, since Amazon/Booksurge will both charge for the printing and take 48 percent of sales (either net or retail, that point seems still unclear). That's far more than any bookstore in which I've placed books on consignment.
One reason I've been happy with VBW is the high quality of its printing. Today's memo from VBW notes that it has tried Booksurge in the past and not been happy about its quality.
I'm not affected much personally by this, since I love marketing my own books, giving readings, visiting bookstores, etc. But for some POD authors, Amazon is the only game in town as far as broadcasting their efforts to a wide audience. That Amazon is throwing its weight around to crush the little guys bothers me a lot.
Any of you with contacts among authors and publishers might like to pass this on. Meanwhile, I gotta go write my Congressional representatives. Since this is an editing web site, can you spell J-U-S-T-I-C-E D-E-P-A-R-T-M-E-N-T?
Bill
One reason I've been happy with VBW is the high quality of its printing. Today's memo from VBW notes that it has tried Booksurge in the past and not been happy about its quality.
I'm not affected much personally by this, since I love marketing my own books, giving readings, visiting bookstores, etc. But for some POD authors, Amazon is the only game in town as far as broadcasting their efforts to a wide audience. That Amazon is throwing its weight around to crush the little guys bothers me a lot.
Any of you with contacts among authors and publishers might like to pass this on. Meanwhile, I gotta go write my Congressional representatives. Since this is an editing web site, can you spell J-U-S-T-I-C-E D-E-P-A-R-T-M-E-N-T?
Bill
Monday, March 24, 2008
Campaign '08: Grammar Watch
Editorland has been resolutely non-political---so far, anyway. No promises for the future. But now and then, I intend to take a balanced look at candidate language, when something interesting comes up.
Most interesting thing this week was said by a Clinton operative, responding to criticism from the Obama camp---criticism that was termed "a deliberately pathetic misreading" of a Bill comment. "Deliberately pathetic"? Being pathetic on purpose is a little like having your leg broken; sane people don't do such things. What was meant, presumably, was "a deliberate and pathetic misreading."
No syntax sinners at the moment from the other side, but Obama caught my ear by saying it would probably be possible to "gin up" something. That's a term I know, but don't hear often. A dictionary of regionalisms defines it as "to stir up, get something going," and there's also a sense of contriving or improvising. The Urban Dictionary (wwww.urbandictionary.com) offers an example that fits right in with my daily work as a development editor for computer manuals: "I'll get one of our code wonks to gin up something to convert the data over to the new format."
Obama's comment that the Reverend Wright was "obsessing" somewhat about race also sent me to the dictionary to see if "obsess about" had really achieved respectability. It has.
Most interesting thing this week was said by a Clinton operative, responding to criticism from the Obama camp---criticism that was termed "a deliberately pathetic misreading" of a Bill comment. "Deliberately pathetic"? Being pathetic on purpose is a little like having your leg broken; sane people don't do such things. What was meant, presumably, was "a deliberate and pathetic misreading."
No syntax sinners at the moment from the other side, but Obama caught my ear by saying it would probably be possible to "gin up" something. That's a term I know, but don't hear often. A dictionary of regionalisms defines it as "to stir up, get something going," and there's also a sense of contriving or improvising. The Urban Dictionary (wwww.urbandictionary.com) offers an example that fits right in with my daily work as a development editor for computer manuals: "I'll get one of our code wonks to gin up something to convert the data over to the new format."
Obama's comment that the Reverend Wright was "obsessing" somewhat about race also sent me to the dictionary to see if "obsess about" had really achieved respectability. It has.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
"As such"
This is my newest peeve. (Am I unusually peevish these days?) Anyway, it's come in today from two different sources, so here goes on the Superfluous As Such.
"The only difference appears to be the project type, and as such when the project is built . . ."
Any idea what function "as such" serves in that sentence? I didn't think so. As such, removing it makes the sentence read shorter and better.
And the second example:
"Roads like this spur forest development . . . . As such, these roads are increasingly built by interest groups."
"The only difference appears to be the project type, and as such when the project is built . . ."
Any idea what function "as such" serves in that sentence? I didn't think so. As such, removing it makes the sentence read shorter and better.
And the second example:
"Roads like this spur forest development . . . . As such, these roads are increasingly built by interest groups."
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Confusing words
My Peeve of the Week is the TV ad that says, "Don't let them garnish your wages."
Would that be with parsley?
One garnishes a roast or some other dish. Your boss may garnishee your wages if your creditors come calling.
Would that be with parsley?
One garnishes a roast or some other dish. Your boss may garnishee your wages if your creditors come calling.
Confusing terms
Finding an error in someone else's publication always gladdens an editor's heart. So I was happy to find, in a New York Review of Books article titled "Are You Happy?" what appeared to be an obvious error.
Surveys of happiness, the author wrote, have found that most people describe themselves as happy. But, she asked, is this perhaps an example of the Heisenberg effect: "If being asked how one feels enhances one's sense of well-being, one might be inclined just then to feel pretty good."
Heisenberg effect? Didn't the author mean Westinghouse effect, after the 1930s experiment in which those taking part did better simply because being picked as participants improved their performance?
When I went looking, I found that the two terms are often used interchangeably. But there's still a difference worth noting. Werner Heisenberg proposed his "principle of uncertainty" to express the idea that the methods used to measure a scientific effect may themselves influence the effect. The NYRB piece was closer to Westinghouse and its idea that the human subjects of an experiment are likely to be proud of being selected and therefore to perform better.
Both effects, one source noted, are likely to be confused with Schroedinger's Cat, a thought experiment devised by Erwin Schroedinger to point out some peculiarities of quantum physics.
Got that all straight?
Surveys of happiness, the author wrote, have found that most people describe themselves as happy. But, she asked, is this perhaps an example of the Heisenberg effect: "If being asked how one feels enhances one's sense of well-being, one might be inclined just then to feel pretty good."
Heisenberg effect? Didn't the author mean Westinghouse effect, after the 1930s experiment in which those taking part did better simply because being picked as participants improved their performance?
When I went looking, I found that the two terms are often used interchangeably. But there's still a difference worth noting. Werner Heisenberg proposed his "principle of uncertainty" to express the idea that the methods used to measure a scientific effect may themselves influence the effect. The NYRB piece was closer to Westinghouse and its idea that the human subjects of an experiment are likely to be proud of being selected and therefore to perform better.
Both effects, one source noted, are likely to be confused with Schroedinger's Cat, a thought experiment devised by Erwin Schroedinger to point out some peculiarities of quantum physics.
Got that all straight?
Friday, February 29, 2008
A scientific treasure
I've just taken on a job copyediting for a new e-journal, Tropical Conservation Science, and am looking for a good editing style guide in the physical sciences, comparable to the one put out by the American Psychological Association. If you know of such a thing, let me know.
Of course, I can always consult Science or Nature for clues, or even a delightful monograph in my possession on "Some Observations of the Diseases of Brunus edwardii (Species nova)." It's written in the most rigorous scientific style, with a full complement of references and acknowledgments, by Drs. D.K. Blackmore and C.M. Young of Wallington, Surrey. And as you may already have guessed, it's about teddy bears. The summary of their research:
"The correct specific and generic terminology for Brunus edwardii is discussed, and the results given of a survey involving 1,599 complete specimens and 539 miscellaneous appendages. These results indicate that primary infectious agents do not occur, and that the species is safe for children to handle. Suggestions as to the future role of the profession in relation to this species are made."
Blackmore and Young give a number of case studies, including the following:
"Case 5: A 16-year-old bear, with an asymmetrical expression and obvious emotional disturbance, found at the back of a cupboard. After the removal of superficial dust, the coat condition was seen to be good, but the animal had a permanent squint, due to careless replacement of the right eye with a shoe button. Tracing of the case history revealed that this bear had suffered recurrent unilateral ocular prolapse, which had progressed to total rupture of the filamentous orbital attachments, and loss of the eye. It was hoped that a new owner might be found for this animal, and that with a newly-matched pair of eyes his expression and psychological state might improve."
Among the references listed for this ground-breaking paper are A Bear Called Paddington and A.A. Milne's The House at Pooh Corner.
Of course, I can always consult Science or Nature for clues, or even a delightful monograph in my possession on "Some Observations of the Diseases of Brunus edwardii (Species nova)." It's written in the most rigorous scientific style, with a full complement of references and acknowledgments, by Drs. D.K. Blackmore and C.M. Young of Wallington, Surrey. And as you may already have guessed, it's about teddy bears. The summary of their research:
"The correct specific and generic terminology for Brunus edwardii is discussed, and the results given of a survey involving 1,599 complete specimens and 539 miscellaneous appendages. These results indicate that primary infectious agents do not occur, and that the species is safe for children to handle. Suggestions as to the future role of the profession in relation to this species are made."
Blackmore and Young give a number of case studies, including the following:
"Case 5: A 16-year-old bear, with an asymmetrical expression and obvious emotional disturbance, found at the back of a cupboard. After the removal of superficial dust, the coat condition was seen to be good, but the animal had a permanent squint, due to careless replacement of the right eye with a shoe button. Tracing of the case history revealed that this bear had suffered recurrent unilateral ocular prolapse, which had progressed to total rupture of the filamentous orbital attachments, and loss of the eye. It was hoped that a new owner might be found for this animal, and that with a newly-matched pair of eyes his expression and psychological state might improve."
Among the references listed for this ground-breaking paper are A Bear Called Paddington and A.A. Milne's The House at Pooh Corner.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Credit Where It's Due
I caught "Jeopardy" in an error the other night. It said that "Go west, young man" is often credited to Horace Greeley, but that the real author is unknown.
Not so. According to my Bartlett's, the phrase was coined by John Babsone Lane Soule in 1851 in the Terre Haute, Indiana, Express. When it became famous, Greeley reprinted Soule's article to give him proper credit.
The things copyeditors know.
This doesn't keep them from error, though. I just picked up a copy of the Johnson County Nostalgia News with an article I had written about local disasters. I quoted a 1908 newspaper article about a tragedy 31 years earlier, "which would have been about 1867." Only if "about" covers the 10-year period up to 1877. You're right, Jerry. There are only three kinds of journalists---those who can do math and those who can't.
Not so. According to my Bartlett's, the phrase was coined by John Babsone Lane Soule in 1851 in the Terre Haute, Indiana, Express. When it became famous, Greeley reprinted Soule's article to give him proper credit.
The things copyeditors know.
This doesn't keep them from error, though. I just picked up a copy of the Johnson County Nostalgia News with an article I had written about local disasters. I quoted a 1908 newspaper article about a tragedy 31 years earlier, "which would have been about 1867." Only if "about" covers the 10-year period up to 1877. You're right, Jerry. There are only three kinds of journalists---those who can do math and those who can't.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
A Little Copyediting Humor
Yes, there is such a thing. This was sent to me recently:
Q. How many art directors does it take to change a light bulb?
A. Does it have to be a light bulb?
Q. How many copyeditors does it take to change a light bulb?
A. The last time this question was asked it involved art directors. Is the difference intentional? Should one or the other instance be changed? It seems inconsistent.
Q. How many art directors does it take to change a light bulb?
A. Does it have to be a light bulb?
Q. How many copyeditors does it take to change a light bulb?
A. The last time this question was asked it involved art directors. Is the difference intentional? Should one or the other instance be changed? It seems inconsistent.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Scientific jargon
This job has nothing if not variety. While waiting for a computer tech-book chapter to come in tonight, I edited an article for a scientific journal, about rain-forest destruction in the Amazon. It was a fine article, but I was struck (not for the first time) by how specialists obscure meaning with jargon.
Here's the case in point (although I don't think I can produce superscript numbers and will have to improvise). The writer wanted to say that the world's forests are shrinking at a rate of 135,000 square kilometers a year. At least I think that's what she meant. But instead of saying this, she wrote 1.3 times 10 to the fifth power by kilometers squared. In print it came out something like 1.3 x 10(5) km (2).
This is shorthand, and I'm well aware that scientists can read the notation above easily. Shorthand can serve a useful purpose, as when paleogeologists use kyr to indicate 1,000 years; otherwise the unimaginable times they deal with would become hard to read.
But there's nothing hard to read about 135,000 square kilometers, and using a complex notation smacks of a desire to obscure. If rain-forest destruction is to be slowed, it won't be by making the subject hard for ordinary readers to understand.
Here's the case in point (although I don't think I can produce superscript numbers and will have to improvise). The writer wanted to say that the world's forests are shrinking at a rate of 135,000 square kilometers a year. At least I think that's what she meant. But instead of saying this, she wrote 1.3 times 10 to the fifth power by kilometers squared. In print it came out something like 1.3 x 10(5) km (2).
This is shorthand, and I'm well aware that scientists can read the notation above easily. Shorthand can serve a useful purpose, as when paleogeologists use kyr to indicate 1,000 years; otherwise the unimaginable times they deal with would become hard to read.
But there's nothing hard to read about 135,000 square kilometers, and using a complex notation smacks of a desire to obscure. If rain-forest destruction is to be slowed, it won't be by making the subject hard for ordinary readers to understand.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Dangerous words
There are lessons for editors in the current kerfuffle over host David Shuster's offhand remark, on MSNBC, that Chelsea Clinton was "sort of being pimped out" by her mother's campaign.
"Pimp" (with its variations) is one of those words that slip into common parlance through pop culture. You hear it in descriptions of flashy, overdone clothing, and it's become associated in some minds with attempts to "sell" something through its bling appeal. Alas for the speakers, words don't lose their original meanings just because they've acquired new ones.
In my church the other day, a lovely lady was trying to convey the idea that she approved of someone. "Everything about her is great, from her attitude to the horse she rode in on," she said. My wife and I looked at each other. We both know the complete phrase: "F____ you, and the horse you rode in on."
After the MSNBC story broke, we were discussing how "pimp" has acquired new meanings. She mentioned the TV show, "Pimp My Car," in which the restorers not only bring a ruined vehicle back to like-new condition, but also add decorative touches. "You mean they tart it up?" I asked. Then we both laughed, because "tart" like "pimp" is making a run for respectability but hasn't quite made it.
As Elmer Fudd might say, editors (and TV hosts) should be vew-y, vew-y careful.
"Pimp" (with its variations) is one of those words that slip into common parlance through pop culture. You hear it in descriptions of flashy, overdone clothing, and it's become associated in some minds with attempts to "sell" something through its bling appeal. Alas for the speakers, words don't lose their original meanings just because they've acquired new ones.
In my church the other day, a lovely lady was trying to convey the idea that she approved of someone. "Everything about her is great, from her attitude to the horse she rode in on," she said. My wife and I looked at each other. We both know the complete phrase: "F____ you, and the horse you rode in on."
After the MSNBC story broke, we were discussing how "pimp" has acquired new meanings. She mentioned the TV show, "Pimp My Car," in which the restorers not only bring a ruined vehicle back to like-new condition, but also add decorative touches. "You mean they tart it up?" I asked. Then we both laughed, because "tart" like "pimp" is making a run for respectability but hasn't quite made it.
As Elmer Fudd might say, editors (and TV hosts) should be vew-y, vew-y careful.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
'I stand a wreck'
Editors are doomed to read everything for errors---and to know that their own work will not escape egregious ones.
The Jan. 17 New York Review of Books has a brilliant review, by the novelist Hilary Mantel, of J.M. Coetzee's Diary of a Bad Year. But my attention was derailed when, halfway through, the name of a character, Anya, suddenly became Anna. And then after a few paragraphs changed back. I spent some time trying to figure out if this was intentional. Had the author changed Anya's name for a reason? Not that I could tell. This appeared to be simply the NYRB's copyeditor sleeping on the job.
"I stand a wreck on error's shore," wrote Adah Isaacs Menken in a much different context. But I always think of her words as the Copyeditor's Hymn. None of us can escape---I nearly wrote "Mencken" from false analogy to H.L.
Sigh.
The Jan. 17 New York Review of Books has a brilliant review, by the novelist Hilary Mantel, of J.M. Coetzee's Diary of a Bad Year. But my attention was derailed when, halfway through, the name of a character, Anya, suddenly became Anna. And then after a few paragraphs changed back. I spent some time trying to figure out if this was intentional. Had the author changed Anya's name for a reason? Not that I could tell. This appeared to be simply the NYRB's copyeditor sleeping on the job.
"I stand a wreck on error's shore," wrote Adah Isaacs Menken in a much different context. But I always think of her words as the Copyeditor's Hymn. None of us can escape---I nearly wrote "Mencken" from false analogy to H.L.
Sigh.
Friday, February 1, 2008
The Top Three
If I were voting right now, my top three editor's banes (in no particular order) would be "there are" constructions when a simple subject/verb would work; "the reason is because" (arrgggh!); and pronoun disagreement. The last is endemic---our attention spans have gotten so short that we can't remember from the start of a sentence to the end whether the subject was singular or plural. Or (sometimes) it's laziness or PC, meaning fear of offending by using "he" or "she." Some validity to that fear, but a deft writer can alm0st always get around it.
Speaking of voting, my sister just sent me a joke, on the familiar theme of St. Peter telling the new arrival (a politician in this case) that he has to try out both Heaven and Hell before making a choice. Of course all his friends are in Hell and having a great time, so he decides to go there for eternity--only to find that the scene has changed to an interminable landscape of woe. Satan explains: "When you were here before, we were campaigning. Now you've voted."
Speaking of voting, my sister just sent me a joke, on the familiar theme of St. Peter telling the new arrival (a politician in this case) that he has to try out both Heaven and Hell before making a choice. Of course all his friends are in Hell and having a great time, so he decides to go there for eternity--only to find that the scene has changed to an interminable landscape of woe. Satan explains: "When you were here before, we were campaigning. Now you've voted."
Friday, January 25, 2008
The Scoop on Blogs
While waiting for my computer to boot up this morning, I read a neat piece by Sarah Boxer in the New York Review of Books, capsulizing the effect of blogging on Life as We Know It (or LAWKI). Wish I could give a link to this, without your having to subscribe to the NYRB, although that would be money well spent.
Sarah accompanied her article with a list of 10 books about blogging, which I was happy to see included one I fact-checked for Wiley Publishing a few months back: Naked Conversations, by Robert Scoble and Shel Israel. (After it appeared, Shel wrote on his own blog: "The most annoying member of the Wiley team was the fact-checker. I don't even know the son-of-a-bitch's name, but my partner and I are forever grateful." That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me as an editor.)
The NYRB article convinced me (as if I weren't convinced already) that this little blog is antediluvian and hopeless chained to traditional English expression. Obviously, I'll never claw my way up the Google food chain.
Sarah accompanied her article with a list of 10 books about blogging, which I was happy to see included one I fact-checked for Wiley Publishing a few months back: Naked Conversations, by Robert Scoble and Shel Israel. (After it appeared, Shel wrote on his own blog: "The most annoying member of the Wiley team was the fact-checker. I don't even know the son-of-a-bitch's name, but my partner and I are forever grateful." That may be the nicest thing anyone has ever said about me as an editor.)
The NYRB article convinced me (as if I weren't convinced already) that this little blog is antediluvian and hopeless chained to traditional English expression. Obviously, I'll never claw my way up the Google food chain.
Who needs Einstein?
An e-mail correspondent has just explained relativity to me in a way I can understand: "Everything tastes like chicken, more or less." Thanks, Sara.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Retrospective/retroactive
Omigawd! I have three readers, maybe four! Thanks, Mary Beth. Guess I'll have to update this oftener.
As all four of you know, most of my editing these days is for technical writers, who by and large write clearly and well. The topics may be arcane to non-techies, but the syntax is usually transparent and easy to follow. When I draw on their work for examples, it's never to be critical.
An interesting one came up today. The writer referred to something happening "retrospectively," which is certainly clear and not even very wrong. The subtle difference is that "retrospectively" implies "a review, survey, or contemplation" of something, rather than action that changes it. A showing of an artist's life work may be a "retrospective." If a cultural terrorist attacks one of the displays with a bucket of paint, he's making a retroactive change in the artist's intention.
There's a wonderful book, Crabbe's English Synonymes [sic] Explained, published by Harper & Brothers in 1885. It deals solely with fine distinctions between words that are close cousins. A little outdated, but still a joy for word mavens. My copy is probably a first edition and isn't listed on Abe Books. But slightly later reprints can be obtained for anyplace from $1 to $40. Money well spent.
As all four of you know, most of my editing these days is for technical writers, who by and large write clearly and well. The topics may be arcane to non-techies, but the syntax is usually transparent and easy to follow. When I draw on their work for examples, it's never to be critical.
An interesting one came up today. The writer referred to something happening "retrospectively," which is certainly clear and not even very wrong. The subtle difference is that "retrospectively" implies "a review, survey, or contemplation" of something, rather than action that changes it. A showing of an artist's life work may be a "retrospective." If a cultural terrorist attacks one of the displays with a bucket of paint, he's making a retroactive change in the artist's intention.
There's a wonderful book, Crabbe's English Synonymes [sic] Explained, published by Harper & Brothers in 1885. It deals solely with fine distinctions between words that are close cousins. A little outdated, but still a joy for word mavens. My copy is probably a first edition and isn't listed on Abe Books. But slightly later reprints can be obtained for anyplace from $1 to $40. Money well spent.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Oh, wonderful!
A third typographical case has been discovered, to go with uppercase and lowercase. It's called camelCase, and is illustrated by such formulations as FireFox. I'm indebted for this to Jon Duckett, a technology writer with whom I'm working. Jon also points out that FireFox is erroneously camelCase, since the Mozilla folks spell it simply Firefox. Don't know where I got the idea that it had a hump in the middle.
While I'm blathering, let me recommend Annie Dillard's new novel, The Mayfields. I was captivated at once when she quoted Robert Louis Stevenson: "Marriage is a kind of friendship recognized by the police." Annie is my heroine. (That's not heroin, although it's easy to get addicted to her.)
For anyone who may read this (both of you), the new book, Places & Stories, is off to the publisher and should be out by the end of January. Accounts of visits to places ranging from the Scottish island of St. Kilda to the Paragon, Indiana, Speedway.
While I'm blathering, let me recommend Annie Dillard's new novel, The Mayfields. I was captivated at once when she quoted Robert Louis Stevenson: "Marriage is a kind of friendship recognized by the police." Annie is my heroine. (That's not heroin, although it's easy to get addicted to her.)
For anyone who may read this (both of you), the new book, Places & Stories, is off to the publisher and should be out by the end of January. Accounts of visits to places ranging from the Scottish island of St. Kilda to the Paragon, Indiana, Speedway.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Why we do it
Most of my editing these days is of arcane manuals written for (and by) computer programmers. "Sounds really dull" is a frequent comment from non-editing friends. And they're right, in a way. As a great copyediting guru, John Bremner, said, "You have to love the thrill of monotony."
It has its rewards, though, and among them are occasional insights into the nature of syntax.
At the moment, I'm editing the work of a good writer (a Londoner), who has just written that it's helpful on a web site to know "what and where changes have been made." This is easily understood, but to the editor's ear it doesn't quite ring true. There is a difference in nature between "what changes" (a noun construction) and the adverbial "where." Easy to straighten out, just by making it "what changes have been made, and where." (We can argue later over that comma.)
Here's a longer and trickier construction: "A function allows you to indicate whether files should be allowed to be used by only one person at a time when you create a site."
It would take a long paragraph to explain everything that's wrong here. The writer's meaning is fairly clear, but his thought is slightly blurred. Here's a try at straightening it out:
"A function allows you, when you create a site, to indicate whether more than one person at a time should be allowed to use a file."
Exactly the same number of words, but now the thought is precise.
Ah, precise thought! It's one of the joys of editing, and you can find it (or create it) anywhere, from poetry to programming.
It has its rewards, though, and among them are occasional insights into the nature of syntax.
At the moment, I'm editing the work of a good writer (a Londoner), who has just written that it's helpful on a web site to know "what and where changes have been made." This is easily understood, but to the editor's ear it doesn't quite ring true. There is a difference in nature between "what changes" (a noun construction) and the adverbial "where." Easy to straighten out, just by making it "what changes have been made, and where." (We can argue later over that comma.)
Here's a longer and trickier construction: "A function allows you to indicate whether files should be allowed to be used by only one person at a time when you create a site."
It would take a long paragraph to explain everything that's wrong here. The writer's meaning is fairly clear, but his thought is slightly blurred. Here's a try at straightening it out:
"A function allows you, when you create a site, to indicate whether more than one person at a time should be allowed to use a file."
Exactly the same number of words, but now the thought is precise.
Ah, precise thought! It's one of the joys of editing, and you can find it (or create it) anywhere, from poetry to programming.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
me now can rite u
I'm happy to chronicle, if belatedly, the arrival of Lolcat or Lolcat-speak, a new tongue which sprouted on the Web a few months ago as textual accompaniment for cute kitty pictures. The idea, as I understand it, is to write as funny and ungrammatical a caption as possible for your pet's picture. But lest you think this is all frivolity, I can report that one brave Lolcat speaker has translated T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland" into it. It begins: APRIL HATES U, MAKES LILACS, U NO CAN HAS!
Actually, the writer of this has a nice sense of humor, and I recommend the entire poem at www.corprew.org/content/lolcat-wasteland/
From my Thanksgiving reading, I can also pass on to you the news that there are now more than 10,000 native speakers of Esperanto.
Actually, the writer of this has a nice sense of humor, and I recommend the entire poem at www.corprew.org/content/lolcat-wasteland/
From my Thanksgiving reading, I can also pass on to you the news that there are now more than 10,000 native speakers of Esperanto.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Style: Right or Wrong?
I've had some discussions recently with authors of technical books about certain styles common in such books. And it's made me think again about the curious matter of the right and wrong of style.
In truth, there is no such thing. Whatever the owner of the publication decrees is right---for that publication. Editors who want to continue working there should toe the line (not "tow the line" as a writer said to me recently).
The classic American example was Col. Robert R. McCormick, the owner of the old Chicago Tribune, who decided one day he was going to reform English spelling, and instructed his writers and editors to do things like spelling "freight" as "frate." So for years they did. It was a national joke. But was it wrong? No. Wildly eccentric maybe, but not wrong. (McCormick was also an anglophobe; when Congress passed the lend-lease bill at the start of World War II, he strode into the Tribune lobby and cut Illinois' star out of the American flag hanging there.)
I'm a strong defender of the final serial comma, but the AP Stylebook says no. So when writing for an AP-style publication, I leave it out. Even though this leads to such wonders as "Night classes will include basketry, beekeeping and sex in the modern world." Who knew that beekeepers had so much fun?
As I noted in an earlier post, when writing purely for myself, I spell "glamour" with the English "u" because it looks more glamourous to me than "glamor." And I like "ploughed ground" because "ploughed" looks rougher and more like overturned earth than "plowed." Eccentric, yes. But not wrong.
In truth, there is no such thing. Whatever the owner of the publication decrees is right---for that publication. Editors who want to continue working there should toe the line (not "tow the line" as a writer said to me recently).
The classic American example was Col. Robert R. McCormick, the owner of the old Chicago Tribune, who decided one day he was going to reform English spelling, and instructed his writers and editors to do things like spelling "freight" as "frate." So for years they did. It was a national joke. But was it wrong? No. Wildly eccentric maybe, but not wrong. (McCormick was also an anglophobe; when Congress passed the lend-lease bill at the start of World War II, he strode into the Tribune lobby and cut Illinois' star out of the American flag hanging there.)
I'm a strong defender of the final serial comma, but the AP Stylebook says no. So when writing for an AP-style publication, I leave it out. Even though this leads to such wonders as "Night classes will include basketry, beekeeping and sex in the modern world." Who knew that beekeepers had so much fun?
As I noted in an earlier post, when writing purely for myself, I spell "glamour" with the English "u" because it looks more glamourous to me than "glamor." And I like "ploughed ground" because "ploughed" looks rougher and more like overturned earth than "plowed." Eccentric, yes. But not wrong.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Does it matter?
While cleaning out old computer messages tonight, I ran across an exchange from a Montserrat listserv to which I subscribe---an exchange about spelling!
One messager ("Cheddy") was an anything-goes person---what does it matter, as long as the message gets across (or az long az thuh messidge gits acros). The writer adds, "So hey, colour or color, programme or program who gives a hoot????"
Well, I give a hoot, Cheddy. Language does a lot more than communicate. It also tells the recipient whether the writer is well-read and attuned to the nuances of the mother tongue. It says something about whether he's precise or sloppy. I'm working by e-mail at the moment with someone who knows his subject, I'm sure, but speaks not the English too good---and this is supposedly a native speaker! I'll be careful how I communicate with him. (And if you didn't see anything wrong with "speaks not the English too good," I'll be wary of communicating with you.)
I don't want to sound too serious. I laugh about people like Cheddy, who's simply ignorant and probably has not strayed more than 10 feet from his TV set since birth. Precision in language matters a lot---if you don't think it does, Cheddy, I'm sorry, but I don't think we have anything to say to each other. And don't ask me for a job.
There's always a little latitude, though. I happen to like the British "glamour" better than the American "glamor." It sounds more glamourous. So I write "glamour" without shame. And I like "plough" better than "plow," because the up-and-down letters remind me of ploughed ground. I reserve the right to be eccentric when I feel like it.
One messager ("Cheddy") was an anything-goes person---what does it matter, as long as the message gets across (or az long az thuh messidge gits acros). The writer adds, "So hey, colour or color, programme or program who gives a hoot????"
Well, I give a hoot, Cheddy. Language does a lot more than communicate. It also tells the recipient whether the writer is well-read and attuned to the nuances of the mother tongue. It says something about whether he's precise or sloppy. I'm working by e-mail at the moment with someone who knows his subject, I'm sure, but speaks not the English too good---and this is supposedly a native speaker! I'll be careful how I communicate with him. (And if you didn't see anything wrong with "speaks not the English too good," I'll be wary of communicating with you.)
I don't want to sound too serious. I laugh about people like Cheddy, who's simply ignorant and probably has not strayed more than 10 feet from his TV set since birth. Precision in language matters a lot---if you don't think it does, Cheddy, I'm sorry, but I don't think we have anything to say to each other. And don't ask me for a job.
There's always a little latitude, though. I happen to like the British "glamour" better than the American "glamor." It sounds more glamourous. So I write "glamour" without shame. And I like "plough" better than "plow," because the up-and-down letters remind me of ploughed ground. I reserve the right to be eccentric when I feel like it.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Who knew?
Brian Williams had a startling story on NBC the other night. He said a group of women were "charging discrimination against employees who became pregnant by large corporations." To which my wife responded, "I didn't know corporations had sex lives." Ah, English word order. It can do strange and wonderful things!
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Frank Harris as an Editor
Who recalls Frank Harris today? The Victorian-era writer, editor, controversialist, destroyer of staid dinner parties, cad, sexual adventurer, blaggard, liar (and perhaps pornographer and blackmailer). A monster, one reviewer called him---but a monster bursting with extraordinary life.
My wife and I have just boxed up our (inherited) collection of Harrisiana, and will probably dispose of it. It posed problems for the previous owner, particularly when he let his house for the summer to a group of nuns. Should Harris's notorious My Life and Loves be left out? He finally decided the sisters' faith would protect them. When we got the books, they went on a top shelf where our children no doubt climbed to get them. At least it was good exercise for them.
But Harris gets a mention here because of his role as editor, at different times, of three major London papers in the late 1800s---the Evening News, the Fortnightly, and the Saturday Review. He was the Murdoch of his day, only more so, and turned the first two papers into moneymakers, before being sacked (in one case) after a prosecution for "obscene libel." But he came into his own with his editorship of the Saturday Review, for which he recruited the new talents of H.B. Wells, George Bernard Shaw, Max Beerbohm, Cunninghame Graham, Thomas Hardy, Oscar Wilde, and Rudyard Kipling.
All those lights, wrote biographer Vincent Brome, "agreed that Harris was a great editor. They could excuse the man who put his feet on the table and slowly read to death a poem which had cost the listening poet weeks of anguished work; they could overlook the man who sometimes tried to play the part of the editor of The Times; they could ignore the torrents of abuse which poured away when someone dared to say than an issue was dull; because he was, in their view, a great editor."
My wife and I have just boxed up our (inherited) collection of Harrisiana, and will probably dispose of it. It posed problems for the previous owner, particularly when he let his house for the summer to a group of nuns. Should Harris's notorious My Life and Loves be left out? He finally decided the sisters' faith would protect them. When we got the books, they went on a top shelf where our children no doubt climbed to get them. At least it was good exercise for them.
But Harris gets a mention here because of his role as editor, at different times, of three major London papers in the late 1800s---the Evening News, the Fortnightly, and the Saturday Review. He was the Murdoch of his day, only more so, and turned the first two papers into moneymakers, before being sacked (in one case) after a prosecution for "obscene libel." But he came into his own with his editorship of the Saturday Review, for which he recruited the new talents of H.B. Wells, George Bernard Shaw, Max Beerbohm, Cunninghame Graham, Thomas Hardy, Oscar Wilde, and Rudyard Kipling.
All those lights, wrote biographer Vincent Brome, "agreed that Harris was a great editor. They could excuse the man who put his feet on the table and slowly read to death a poem which had cost the listening poet weeks of anguished work; they could overlook the man who sometimes tried to play the part of the editor of The Times; they could ignore the torrents of abuse which poured away when someone dared to say than an issue was dull; because he was, in their view, a great editor."
Friday, September 21, 2007
A good editor (1880 version)
I'd just posted the previous remarks about editors, when the local museum called, saying it had found a copy of the Pea Ridge News, published about 1880 at Branch's Station, Indiana. (Branch's Station was a whistle stop on the Big Four railroad, or "Old Jerk," which was famed for its slowness. Hogs, it was said, could eat the grease out of the journal boxes as the cars dawdled past.)
The Pea Ridge News turned out to be a treasure---it was handwritten and there may have been only one copy. One suspects some juvenile journalism, since it reported that its offices were in the Pea Ridge School. However, the editor (alas, unnamed) talked a good game, explaining his (or her) plans for the publication, carrying a couple of advertising notices, reporting two weddings, and publishing a letter to the editor that said, "Horace Greeley is dead, but you have stepped into his shoes." (One suspects the letter was written by not to the editor.)
None of this tarnishes the charm of the Pea Ridge News, however. Of special interest is the letter writer's advice on how to be an editor. It reads, in part:
"First, a good editor should have a good foundation. By this I mean well-developed feet of a good size . . . An editor should be of a large portly form that should have combined with its grace of movement and elegant[sic] of outline . . . You can always tell a good editor from the shape of his head and the way he carries it. It should be well set on his shoulders and should always be thrown back with an independent air, which seems to say, 'I own this world and a part of the next' . . . In giving the account of the death of anyone, you should review his past life as having [been] a model one in the wonderfull good influence he exerted while on earth. This should be done even if he is a great sinner. By this means you will secure his relations as subscribers."
The paper reported "a very, very large reward" offered for the return of a wig lost by Thomas Edward Vandivier. It "was not the same color as the hair, but nevertheless it was worn," the editor reported.
And finally, a railroad tragedy was reported:
"The morning train going east was coming down the grade at a tremendous rate. It struck one of Mr. Hunt's old gray cats which was snoozing on the track and knocked it end over end down the mighty precipess [sic] into the mighty waters below. Mr. Hunt has our sympathy for the cat of which we have spoken was a genuine thorough yellow tamed mouse grinder, and the end of its brilliant career will be mourned throughout the county."
Eat your heart out, Brian Williams!
The Pea Ridge News turned out to be a treasure---it was handwritten and there may have been only one copy. One suspects some juvenile journalism, since it reported that its offices were in the Pea Ridge School. However, the editor (alas, unnamed) talked a good game, explaining his (or her) plans for the publication, carrying a couple of advertising notices, reporting two weddings, and publishing a letter to the editor that said, "Horace Greeley is dead, but you have stepped into his shoes." (One suspects the letter was written by not to the editor.)
None of this tarnishes the charm of the Pea Ridge News, however. Of special interest is the letter writer's advice on how to be an editor. It reads, in part:
"First, a good editor should have a good foundation. By this I mean well-developed feet of a good size . . . An editor should be of a large portly form that should have combined with its grace of movement and elegant[sic] of outline . . . You can always tell a good editor from the shape of his head and the way he carries it. It should be well set on his shoulders and should always be thrown back with an independent air, which seems to say, 'I own this world and a part of the next' . . . In giving the account of the death of anyone, you should review his past life as having [been] a model one in the wonderfull good influence he exerted while on earth. This should be done even if he is a great sinner. By this means you will secure his relations as subscribers."
The paper reported "a very, very large reward" offered for the return of a wig lost by Thomas Edward Vandivier. It "was not the same color as the hair, but nevertheless it was worn," the editor reported.
And finally, a railroad tragedy was reported:
"The morning train going east was coming down the grade at a tremendous rate. It struck one of Mr. Hunt's old gray cats which was snoozing on the track and knocked it end over end down the mighty precipess [sic] into the mighty waters below. Mr. Hunt has our sympathy for the cat of which we have spoken was a genuine thorough yellow tamed mouse grinder, and the end of its brilliant career will be mourned throughout the county."
Eat your heart out, Brian Williams!
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
'Forget the Flood . . . "
My local newspaper has taken to selling obits on its news pages, without (at least this morning) any indication that the news space was paid for. So I've just read that a resident of our area "met his savior, Jesus Christ, on Monday, Sept. 17."
This may deserve a bigger headline. It recalls the story of a reporter, overwhelmed by the Johnstown flood, who telegraphed his paper: "God sits on a hilltop here tonight, looking out over the ruins of Johnstown." To which his editor responded, "Forget the flood. Interview God." (Editors were terrible people back then---one in Nevada headed the story of a hanging, "Jerked to Jesus." Editors almost never meet their savior.)
I have no objection to the religious sentiment expressed in this morning's obit, but the general rule in news columns used to be that information had to be verifiable by an ordinary reporter, not one with insight into the afterlife. Was the reporter there? What did Jesus say to the new arrival when they met?
I know what's happening here. Newspapers are in perilous times economically, and a little paid income from the obits is welcome---slapping a "paid ad" tag on the story would be offensive to the families. And, as a former small-town editor, I remember well the battles with families and undertakers that result from taking a hard news line on obituaries. Much easier to sell the news space and let anything go in---the ad department is happy, the family is happy, the undertaker is happy. Jesus may be happy, for all I know. I'm not happy, but I'm only a grouchy subscriber.
There was a portent several years ago when my newspaper reported that a woman was survived by "several nieces and nephews and her little dog Fluffy." I was told at the time this was an editing oversight, but it would go in routinely today, along with the "beloved wife of" and "devoted servant of his church."
Oh, well. I've already instructed my wife that I want my paid obit to read "left no forwarding address."
This may deserve a bigger headline. It recalls the story of a reporter, overwhelmed by the Johnstown flood, who telegraphed his paper: "God sits on a hilltop here tonight, looking out over the ruins of Johnstown." To which his editor responded, "Forget the flood. Interview God." (Editors were terrible people back then---one in Nevada headed the story of a hanging, "Jerked to Jesus." Editors almost never meet their savior.)
I have no objection to the religious sentiment expressed in this morning's obit, but the general rule in news columns used to be that information had to be verifiable by an ordinary reporter, not one with insight into the afterlife. Was the reporter there? What did Jesus say to the new arrival when they met?
I know what's happening here. Newspapers are in perilous times economically, and a little paid income from the obits is welcome---slapping a "paid ad" tag on the story would be offensive to the families. And, as a former small-town editor, I remember well the battles with families and undertakers that result from taking a hard news line on obituaries. Much easier to sell the news space and let anything go in---the ad department is happy, the family is happy, the undertaker is happy. Jesus may be happy, for all I know. I'm not happy, but I'm only a grouchy subscriber.
There was a portent several years ago when my newspaper reported that a woman was survived by "several nieces and nephews and her little dog Fluffy." I was told at the time this was an editing oversight, but it would go in routinely today, along with the "beloved wife of" and "devoted servant of his church."
Oh, well. I've already instructed my wife that I want my paid obit to read "left no forwarding address."
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Just what?
Since I've been telling various people about this blog, I'll try to post more often to it.
Here's the day's editing curiosity. A copyeditor friend has confessed to writing "get his just desserts" all his working life. Would that be chocolate cream pie? And have I been doing the same thing? I'm not sure, although I can't even remember that last time this came up.
It's "just deserts"---getting what you deserve, for good or ill. And it can be singular: "He got his proper desert for the awful thing he did."
Curiously, this is not in the AP Stylebook. I don't think I've erred on it, but who knows? At any rate, I sympathize with my friend, and no doubt am doing something just as mistaken. I recall a skilled writer who discovered to his dismay that he had been misspelling "ukulele" as "ukelele" all his life---it's Hawaiian for "little jumping flea." Now you know.
Here's the day's editing curiosity. A copyeditor friend has confessed to writing "get his just desserts" all his working life. Would that be chocolate cream pie? And have I been doing the same thing? I'm not sure, although I can't even remember that last time this came up.
It's "just deserts"---getting what you deserve, for good or ill. And it can be singular: "He got his proper desert for the awful thing he did."
Curiously, this is not in the AP Stylebook. I don't think I've erred on it, but who knows? At any rate, I sympathize with my friend, and no doubt am doing something just as mistaken. I recall a skilled writer who discovered to his dismay that he had been misspelling "ukulele" as "ukelele" all his life---it's Hawaiian for "little jumping flea." Now you know.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Newspaper fun
A clipping fell out of a scrapbook yesterday, undated but probably from the Washington Post of some years ago. It's a letter, from "Bill Well (person)" of Washington, and reads as follows:
"About Angus Phillips' story, 'Fisherpersons, with Fish Up to Here' [February 18, Weekend]: 'Fisherpersons' indeed! Why, you half-wit, anybody who would use 'fisherpersons' (fisherman has only been used about 2,000 years) ought to be tied to a whale and let loose, you stupid numbskull! 'Fisherpersons' indeed!"
To which the editor has appended a note: "Angus Phillips, a fisherman himself, does not write the headlines that go over his stories, and would like that pointed out. We have a wordsperson to write those."
"About Angus Phillips' story, 'Fisherpersons, with Fish Up to Here' [February 18, Weekend]: 'Fisherpersons' indeed! Why, you half-wit, anybody who would use 'fisherpersons' (fisherman has only been used about 2,000 years) ought to be tied to a whale and let loose, you stupid numbskull! 'Fisherpersons' indeed!"
To which the editor has appended a note: "Angus Phillips, a fisherman himself, does not write the headlines that go over his stories, and would like that pointed out. We have a wordsperson to write those."
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Which is easiest?
In something I was just editing, the writer commented that it's harder to read text on the screen than in print, and therefore writers for the Web should be sure to use short, simple sentences. Hmmm. Is that actually so? Short, simple sentences are also good in print (although they need to be varied now and then with longer ones). But is reading on the screen intrinsically harder?
Intuitively, it seems it might be. Backlighting of the screen might have an effect. And anyone who has moved from paper to computer editing knows one obstacle to comprehension---what you've read is no longer there in front of you, and you have to scroll back to find it.
But intuition also says that the general dumbing-down of the culture may have more to do with it than simply the difference between screen and printed page. The New York Review of Books for July 19 has this wonderful paragraph, addressed by William James to his brother Henry:
"You know how opposed your whole 'third manner' of execution is to the literary ideals which animate my crude and Orson-like breast, mine being to say a thing in one sentence as straight and explicit as it can be made, and then to drop it forever; yours being to avoid naming it straight, but by dint of breathing and sighing all round and round it, to arouse in the reader who may have had a similar perception already (Heaven help him if he hasn't!) the illusion of a solid object, made (like the 'ghost' at the Polytechnic) wholly out of impalpable materials, air, and the prismatic interferences of light, ingeniously focused upon empty space."
One has to believe that William James knew exactly what he was doing in crafting this magnificent 117-word sentence---"straight and explicit" indeed! But how many readers today, of print or screen, would be able to hack their way through it, much less enjoy the experience? How many of them even know who William and Henry James are? ("Brothers of Jesse?" No, Gertrude, if you said that on Final Jeopardy, you would not win the trip to Hawaii.)
Intuitively, it seems it might be. Backlighting of the screen might have an effect. And anyone who has moved from paper to computer editing knows one obstacle to comprehension---what you've read is no longer there in front of you, and you have to scroll back to find it.
But intuition also says that the general dumbing-down of the culture may have more to do with it than simply the difference between screen and printed page. The New York Review of Books for July 19 has this wonderful paragraph, addressed by William James to his brother Henry:
"You know how opposed your whole 'third manner' of execution is to the literary ideals which animate my crude and Orson-like breast, mine being to say a thing in one sentence as straight and explicit as it can be made, and then to drop it forever; yours being to avoid naming it straight, but by dint of breathing and sighing all round and round it, to arouse in the reader who may have had a similar perception already (Heaven help him if he hasn't!) the illusion of a solid object, made (like the 'ghost' at the Polytechnic) wholly out of impalpable materials, air, and the prismatic interferences of light, ingeniously focused upon empty space."
One has to believe that William James knew exactly what he was doing in crafting this magnificent 117-word sentence---"straight and explicit" indeed! But how many readers today, of print or screen, would be able to hack their way through it, much less enjoy the experience? How many of them even know who William and Henry James are? ("Brothers of Jesse?" No, Gertrude, if you said that on Final Jeopardy, you would not win the trip to Hawaii.)
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Power-of-Hyphen Dept.
I walked past a law office yesterday on which a handsome bronze plaque proclaimed: "Jones, Jones & Smith, Criminal Defense Attorneys." I suppose it takes one to know one, but "Criminal-Defense Attorneys" was probably intended.
On another matter, my Uncle Bill was a devoted scrapbooker before it became a hobby du jour. Looking though one of his today I found something for the copyeditor's mental attic, to wit: Herodotus is credited for the inscription on the main New York City post office: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." And that's close enough for all intents and purposes (or "all intensive porpoises," as someone has said). But it's an adaptation. What Herodotus said (of Persian messengers) was actually: "Not snow, no, nor rain, nor heat, nor night stays them from accomplishing their appointed courses with all speed." Or at least this is what my old Bartlett's says.
So now you know.
On another matter, my Uncle Bill was a devoted scrapbooker before it became a hobby du jour. Looking though one of his today I found something for the copyeditor's mental attic, to wit: Herodotus is credited for the inscription on the main New York City post office: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds." And that's close enough for all intents and purposes (or "all intensive porpoises," as someone has said). But it's an adaptation. What Herodotus said (of Persian messengers) was actually: "Not snow, no, nor rain, nor heat, nor night stays them from accomplishing their appointed courses with all speed." Or at least this is what my old Bartlett's says.
So now you know.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
"There are . . . ."
Author Jerri and I have been discussing the propensity of writers for starting too many sentences with "There are . . . ."
I'm not a maniac on the subject. If you're just listing things, it's okay to say, "There are 10 reasons you should walk an hour a day." The problem comes when "there are" gets in the way of the basic English subject/verb/object relationship. Then you get, "There are people who are repelled by the idea of walking even 10 minutes." Or worse, "The reason there are some people who are repelled by the idea of walking even 10 minutes is because . . . ." By this time the MEGO factor (My Eyes Glaze Over) has reached stratospheric heights.
How much better to say, "Some people hate the idea of walking even 10 minutes," to which one might add, "perhaps because they've never tried it." SVO--subject/verb/object--the basic building blocks of our mother tongue. (Why Mom is the talkative one, I don't know.)
Next: The Superfluous Of.
I'm not a maniac on the subject. If you're just listing things, it's okay to say, "There are 10 reasons you should walk an hour a day." The problem comes when "there are" gets in the way of the basic English subject/verb/object relationship. Then you get, "There are people who are repelled by the idea of walking even 10 minutes." Or worse, "The reason there are some people who are repelled by the idea of walking even 10 minutes is because . . . ." By this time the MEGO factor (My Eyes Glaze Over) has reached stratospheric heights.
How much better to say, "Some people hate the idea of walking even 10 minutes," to which one might add, "perhaps because they've never tried it." SVO--subject/verb/object--the basic building blocks of our mother tongue. (Why Mom is the talkative one, I don't know.)
Next: The Superfluous Of.
Friday, July 13, 2007
Catching up
Experienced bloggers tell me that the way to attract readership is to write something every day, whether you have anything to say or not. Ummm. Don't think I'll do that. Right now, I don't think Editorland has any readers at all, aside from a loyal friend or two, like Jerri and Jerry. Which is okay, at least for now. I'd as soon not have many readers while I'm just messing around and trying things out.
But today, I'll get caught up a little. Got back from the church centennial in Washington, D.C., which was hectic, fun, exhausting. As I ran from place to place, getting press releases okayed, and pounded away on the laptop till midnight, I realized (not for the first time) that I'm not a 25-year-old UPI reporter anymore.
Came back from there to do a quick run around northern Indiana (Karen driving), visiting college interns on Indiana newspapers. Then home to get caught up on tech book editing---three books going at the moment. Jerri Ledford and I are bookin' on the SEO Bible, I've started on Adobe Integrated Runtime with Rich Tretola, and am just getting in touch with Keyvan Nayyeri in Tehran, who is writing Professional Visual Studio Add-Ins and Extensions. Hi, Keyvan.
Ah, and a nice surprise when we got back from the North. As you know, loyal readers (both of you), I've written a book, A Fine Smirr of Rain, which was published in POD and which I'm now flogging to New York agents. After two dozen curt rejections (most agents seem to be rotten human beings), there was an e-mail from the 25th saying, "I absolutely love this book. Please send full manuscript and your complete vita." 'Tis done. This is just one step in the process and may not lead to actual publication, but it's nice to be loved, even (or especially) by a literary agent.
But today, I'll get caught up a little. Got back from the church centennial in Washington, D.C., which was hectic, fun, exhausting. As I ran from place to place, getting press releases okayed, and pounded away on the laptop till midnight, I realized (not for the first time) that I'm not a 25-year-old UPI reporter anymore.
Came back from there to do a quick run around northern Indiana (Karen driving), visiting college interns on Indiana newspapers. Then home to get caught up on tech book editing---three books going at the moment. Jerri Ledford and I are bookin' on the SEO Bible, I've started on Adobe Integrated Runtime with Rich Tretola, and am just getting in touch with Keyvan Nayyeri in Tehran, who is writing Professional Visual Studio Add-Ins and Extensions. Hi, Keyvan.
Ah, and a nice surprise when we got back from the North. As you know, loyal readers (both of you), I've written a book, A Fine Smirr of Rain, which was published in POD and which I'm now flogging to New York agents. After two dozen curt rejections (most agents seem to be rotten human beings), there was an e-mail from the 25th saying, "I absolutely love this book. Please send full manuscript and your complete vita." 'Tis done. This is just one step in the process and may not lead to actual publication, but it's nice to be loved, even (or especially) by a literary agent.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Variety Is the Spice
Since I'm not sure yet just what this blog will be (or if it will be anything), I'll experiment this time with a few personal comments on recent editing assignments.
It's been an interesting summer so far, up here on the second floor, in Editorland. Jerri Ledford and I just finished up one tech book, Google Analytics 2.0, and are hard at work on another, the SEO Bible. That stands for Search Engine Optimization, and if anyone had told me five years ago that I'd know what that meant, and be editing a book about it, I'd have said they were bonkers. Wotta life!
At the other end of the editing spectrum has been Working the Woods, Working the Sea, a new edition from Empty Bowl Press in Port Townsend, Washington, of a book first published in the '80s. It includes prose and poetry by writers who came out of the "back to the land" movement in the Pacific Northwest during the 1960s and 1970s. Some really fine stuff by Tom Jay, Mike O'Connor, Bill Porter ("Red Pine"), Mike Daley, Gary Snyder, and many others. A high point: Leonard Davis's superb short story, The Angoon Witch. I've edited for several of these authors before, and am beginning to feel like an honorary citizen of Port Townsend, where some of them hang out.
Other stuff goes on, too. Rhett Butler checks in now and then with some editing for his rain-forest web site, mongabay.com. Beautiful photos, fascinating save-the-planet stuff. Check it out. There's been a fairly steady run of grant-writing for Franklin College, capped recently by word that the Custer Foundation is giving us $80,000 to renovate the theater in Old Main and turn it into a music venue. Lots of happiness about this. And then there are the interns, bless 'em. Ten of them, at newspapers scattered around Indiana, all working hard and producing lots of good copy. This is a program of the Hoosier State Press Association Foundation, and I am their "mentor," which basically means I get out of the way and let 'em roll.
And finally, I'll be taking off a week from today for 10 days in Washington, DC, to do press chores for the national board meeting of American Baptist Churches USA, followed by the denomination's centennial convention, also in Washington.
Yes, Bonnie, I've flunked retirement.
It's been an interesting summer so far, up here on the second floor, in Editorland. Jerri Ledford and I just finished up one tech book, Google Analytics 2.0, and are hard at work on another, the SEO Bible. That stands for Search Engine Optimization, and if anyone had told me five years ago that I'd know what that meant, and be editing a book about it, I'd have said they were bonkers. Wotta life!
At the other end of the editing spectrum has been Working the Woods, Working the Sea, a new edition from Empty Bowl Press in Port Townsend, Washington, of a book first published in the '80s. It includes prose and poetry by writers who came out of the "back to the land" movement in the Pacific Northwest during the 1960s and 1970s. Some really fine stuff by Tom Jay, Mike O'Connor, Bill Porter ("Red Pine"), Mike Daley, Gary Snyder, and many others. A high point: Leonard Davis's superb short story, The Angoon Witch. I've edited for several of these authors before, and am beginning to feel like an honorary citizen of Port Townsend, where some of them hang out.
Other stuff goes on, too. Rhett Butler checks in now and then with some editing for his rain-forest web site, mongabay.com. Beautiful photos, fascinating save-the-planet stuff. Check it out. There's been a fairly steady run of grant-writing for Franklin College, capped recently by word that the Custer Foundation is giving us $80,000 to renovate the theater in Old Main and turn it into a music venue. Lots of happiness about this. And then there are the interns, bless 'em. Ten of them, at newspapers scattered around Indiana, all working hard and producing lots of good copy. This is a program of the Hoosier State Press Association Foundation, and I am their "mentor," which basically means I get out of the way and let 'em roll.
And finally, I'll be taking off a week from today for 10 days in Washington, DC, to do press chores for the national board meeting of American Baptist Churches USA, followed by the denomination's centennial convention, also in Washington.
Yes, Bonnie, I've flunked retirement.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Read my lips?
Went to a conference yesterday at which a newspaper writer described a feature she had written about "underground concerts" in people's homes. At one point, the homeowner tried to talk to her above the din. She wrote: "His mouth is moving, but I can't hear a word. 'Pretty (bleepin') loud, huh?' he says."
Huh, indeed. If she couldn't hear a word, how did she know what he said?
This is reminiscent of the reporter covering a natural disaster who began his datelined story: "This community is totally cut off from the world tonight." He may have been the same reporter who was sent to cover the Johnstown flood and was so overwhelmed that he wired back: "God sits on a hilltop tonight, sorrowing over devastated Johnstown." His editor, less overwhelmed, wired back: "Forget the flood. Interview God."
Huh, indeed. If she couldn't hear a word, how did she know what he said?
This is reminiscent of the reporter covering a natural disaster who began his datelined story: "This community is totally cut off from the world tonight." He may have been the same reporter who was sent to cover the Johnstown flood and was so overwhelmed that he wired back: "God sits on a hilltop tonight, sorrowing over devastated Johnstown." His editor, less overwhelmed, wired back: "Forget the flood. Interview God."
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Not obsessed enough
A columnist for my local paper says we're obsessed with celebrities, and notes, "Just the fact that I can use the single name 'Brittany' and be understood says something, doesn't it?" What it says is that he's not all that obsessed, since the name is "Britney." Maybe I should be worried that I know this.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Crazy quotes
It was a problem editors never had in the pencil days.
What do you do about straight-up quote marks and apostrophes when these appear in copy that otherwise uses the curly variety? I've just finished wrestling with this in a tech book, where the problem was complicated by curly quotes that showed up in code requiring the straight-up variety. I couldn't find any menu on my new Office Word 2007 that would do a global change.
When the problem resurfaced in a client's literary text, I got serious about solving it. The key turned out to be Jason Higbie, a former student and computer guru, who now is one of the "magi" (assistants) for illusionist David Copperfield. He dropped by the house Saturday, on furlough from the MGM Grand in Vegas, and we talked about straights and curlies. "Did you try find-and-replace?" he asked. Of course I had, and there wasn't anything helpful in the special characters menu. But as we talked a bell began ringing a long way off. Hadn't I already messed around with Find and Replace once, and found sort of an answer?
It turned out to be easy. Just type a quote mark in Find and another one in Replace. They look the same, but the computer changes all the straights to curlies (and, incidentally, replaces all the curlies with new curlies). Problem solved, although I'm still not sure how I'd change curlies into straights. But I don't need to very often, so that can wait.
The new literary project, a reissue of the 1986 Working the Woods, Working the Sea, is coming out from Empty Bowl Press in Port Townsend, Washington. It has a lot of great writers and poets, including Tom Jay, Mike O'Connor, Tim McNulty, Gary Snyder, and Finn Wilcox (creator of the term blissninny for people who carry happiness too far). The first edition was scanned to create the MS for the reissue, which means a fair number of squirrelly things for the editor to deal with, like capital Os that become zeroes and multiplier signs that become Xs. OCR (optical character recognition) is better than it used to be, but it's still the devil's spawn.
It's fun to work for this gang, though. This is the fourth or fifth piece I've edited for one or another of them. I may become an honorary citizen of Port Townsend.
What do you do about straight-up quote marks and apostrophes when these appear in copy that otherwise uses the curly variety? I've just finished wrestling with this in a tech book, where the problem was complicated by curly quotes that showed up in code requiring the straight-up variety. I couldn't find any menu on my new Office Word 2007 that would do a global change.
When the problem resurfaced in a client's literary text, I got serious about solving it. The key turned out to be Jason Higbie, a former student and computer guru, who now is one of the "magi" (assistants) for illusionist David Copperfield. He dropped by the house Saturday, on furlough from the MGM Grand in Vegas, and we talked about straights and curlies. "Did you try find-and-replace?" he asked. Of course I had, and there wasn't anything helpful in the special characters menu. But as we talked a bell began ringing a long way off. Hadn't I already messed around with Find and Replace once, and found sort of an answer?
It turned out to be easy. Just type a quote mark in Find and another one in Replace. They look the same, but the computer changes all the straights to curlies (and, incidentally, replaces all the curlies with new curlies). Problem solved, although I'm still not sure how I'd change curlies into straights. But I don't need to very often, so that can wait.
The new literary project, a reissue of the 1986 Working the Woods, Working the Sea, is coming out from Empty Bowl Press in Port Townsend, Washington. It has a lot of great writers and poets, including Tom Jay, Mike O'Connor, Tim McNulty, Gary Snyder, and Finn Wilcox (creator of the term blissninny for people who carry happiness too far). The first edition was scanned to create the MS for the reissue, which means a fair number of squirrelly things for the editor to deal with, like capital Os that become zeroes and multiplier signs that become Xs. OCR (optical character recognition) is better than it used to be, but it's still the devil's spawn.
It's fun to work for this gang, though. This is the fourth or fifth piece I've edited for one or another of them. I may become an honorary citizen of Port Townsend.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Intern letter
In an effort to keep this from becoming not just a dead blog, but a stillborn one, here's the first newsletter for the interns I'm supervising this summer at Indiana newspapers. A few tips in it that are good for anybody.
THE SECOND STORY
May 27, 2007 #1 Bill Bridges, Pulliam Intern Mentor
There’s always a question of the best way to send stories. So far it’s worked beautifully when you just send a link to your story on the newspaper web site. (In the past, we’ve occasionally run into a web site that required a password.) Another way is to paste the story draft at the end of an e-mail (or send it as a Word attachment). The advantage here may be that I get to comment on the draft before it’s gone through your editor and into print. When I get a draft, I make a special effort to turn it around immediately — occasionally I’ve headed off an embarrassing goof for an intern.
Here are some things people have done so far:
Mandy Lloyd, ending her fourth week as a graphics design person at the Fort Wayne Journal Gazette, reports doing 69 layouts so far, including a number for the Metro section front. The ones I’ve seen have been sparkling. Good work.
Alaric DeArment, at the Michigan City News-Dispatch, has covered a car wreck and a Soap Box Derby. Is there an automotive theme developing here? Note comment below on trademarked names.
Philly: Ho-hum. I thought you were going to let me say something, Boss.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
About Editors
Since this blog is mainly about editing, it's appropriate to begin with something I wrote concerning this strange activity, in a little book called Dear Viola. (The quote says "reporters," but you can substitute "writers.")
"Reporters are arrogant, bullheaded, creative, demanding, enchanting, funny, gracious, hard-working, insecure, jealous as hell of their copy, and kind to dumb animals, including at times even their editors.
"Any good editor needs to start with a profound respect for reporters and what they do. They do go out in the rain and into uncomfortable, even hazardous situations to report the news. They get abused by sources, police, and readers. At times---luckily rare---they end up injured or dead. And as if this weren't enough psychic grief, they are writers, for God's sake. Unless you like them and care about their work, even on the days when you hate them and think they're writing crap, don't try to be an editor."
"Reporters are arrogant, bullheaded, creative, demanding, enchanting, funny, gracious, hard-working, insecure, jealous as hell of their copy, and kind to dumb animals, including at times even their editors.
"Any good editor needs to start with a profound respect for reporters and what they do. They do go out in the rain and into uncomfortable, even hazardous situations to report the news. They get abused by sources, police, and readers. At times---luckily rare---they end up injured or dead. And as if this weren't enough psychic grief, they are writers, for God's sake. Unless you like them and care about their work, even on the days when you hate them and think they're writing crap, don't try to be an editor."
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