Style Guides: A primer

I dare say everyone who writes at all regularly, even for casual purposes, knows that it’s vital to have access to a dictionary. And with so many of them now online for free, there’s really not much of an excuse not to use one.

But what about a style guide? Do you need to use one? And by “use,” I mean “have access to and perhaps own.” Isn’t that like a usage guide? No. A style guide is not a usage guide. Most of them contain some usage guidance, but that’s not the point of a style guide.

Continue reading “Style Guides: A primer”

PerfectIt 4: YES, you want it!

I’ve been going on and on about PerfectIt since I bought the previous version. It’s NOT a spelling or grammar checker. It’s a proofreading tool. You’re worried about inconsistency in hyphenation? PerfectIt has your back. Concerned about capitalization? No worries. What about acronyms being used without being defined? They’re covered.

(Full disclosure: I’m being compensated for this review. And no, it had nothing to do with that whisky bar in Providence. The agreement was made before that.)

(And another thing: This review is for the Windows version. If you’re on a Mac, you might like to know that this is catching us up with things you’ve already had!)

I’m not a power user. I wasn’t one before, either. My work is very simple compared to that of many of my colleagues. I don’t work with tables and figures. I don’t have to deal with footnotes or endnotes. No indexing. No tables of contents. No styles. (Sounds like I’m quite the slacker, doesn’t it.) However, I can still speak to how PerfectIt 4 helps with my work.

The most recent project, the one on which I was able to take this baby out for a test drive, had around 50,000 words. I opened the file, clicked “PerfectIt 4,” and unchecked the boxes of the tests I didn’t require (figures, tables, and so on). Then I clicked on “Launch.” (This is no different from the previous version. But …)

Within seconds (seconds! not minutes!), the program was ready for me to proceed. And this time, instead of my having to look at every instance of a change by clicking into the file location to see context, the context was right there in the box! That was magical for me. Instead of having to bounce back and forth to check each instance of “it’s,” for example, I could just click the radio button next to each one I wanted the program to fix.

One. Click. WOW.

The same was true of hyphenated compounds. I follow the guidance of “hyphenate before a noun, style open elsewhere” so again, it was a time-saver not to have to keep bouncing back and forth. One click per change I wanted to make. Boom. Done.

Sure, that doesn’t sound like much. Seconds? What’s the big deal? Multiply those seconds across all the projects you do in a year. It’s a cliché, sure, but: They add up. They save you time. (And annoyance, if you’re working in a 100,000-word file.)

I was using the beta version, because along with agreeing to provide a review I was asked to help beta test. (COOL!) Now, I’m married to a QA guru. But that doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing when it comes to testing. I wasn’t being asked to sit there and try to break the program (which is a good thing, because that scares the hell out of me).

So, I wasn’t entirely surprised when at one point during the run, an error message popped up. But it wasn’t just “oops, something went wrong.” Oh, no. It was a BIG box that included a bunch of code, and the message (which I’ll paraphrase) “Please copy this and paste it into an email to address@restofaddress.”

Of course, I complied. I had no clue what the code meant or what hadn’t worked, but I did my part. And eventually, the devs and QA folks there figured out what had happened, fixed it, and thanked me (and the other five or six people to whom the same thing had happened). I’m reminded of that ad for Seven Seas salad dressing: “And I helped!”

And yes, there’s still that wonderful “final actions” list where you can choose, as I always do, “change multiple spaces to one.” (It used to say “two.” Now those weird places where there are perhaps three spaces will be magically closed up. No more having to do that one twice!)

If you used PerfectIt3, making the jump to this one is an utter no-brainer.

If you’ve been waffling, now’s the time. (Less time than it took before!)

“Stay on target … stay on target …”

Get a drink and maybe a snack and settle in. Today I’m talking about keeping yourself focused and targeted when writing complex sentences (both those defined that way grammatically and the ones that are just long).

I see the same thing happening time and again. A writer creates a sentence, probably a grammatically complex one with at least one dependent clause along with the independent clause, and somewhere, somehow, the focus of the sentence gets lost. By the time we’re at the terminal punctuation, the thrust has shifted from the grammatical subject to something else that’s related to it, grammatically speaking. Continue reading ““Stay on target … stay on target …””

A sentence must have at least two words.

(And other things English teachers get wrong)

I’m hoping the pitchforks haven’t come out already, just because of that title (or perhaps that subtitle). I’m also hoping that most of you know why that statement is incorrect.

It’s true that a sentence needs a subject and a verb, BUT what most teachers forget (or never knew in the first place) is that the subject might not be overt. It could be understood, as with “HALT!” The implication is that you or someone else is to halt.

That doesn’t make “HALT!” any less of a sentence than “HALT, YOU!” or “HALT, THIEF!” Those last two are just inverted syntax, with the subject of the verb coming after it instead of up front.

Utterances like “Ugh!” and “Oh my God!” aren’t sentences, grammatically speaking; they’re, well, utterances. They’re spoken. They have meaning, but it’s based on context, on the words and circumstances surrounding them.

So once more, with feeling: Every sentence needs a subject and a verb. (Not necessarily “two words.”)

 

Branching Out: Social Media for Publishers, Agents, and More

While you all know about my work as an editor with indie authors, you might not know that I have also worked with national marketing companies to ensure that their clients’ social media posts were error-free.

I see many posts from publishers, agents, a la carte author-assistance businesses (those who offer multiple services at various prices, sometimes as bundles), and so on, with errors that a simple proofreading could prevent.

Do you want your potential clients to see sloppy tweets or Facebook posts? What about your Instagram feed? Are those comments error-free and focused?

I’d love to help you up your social media game to the Flawless Level. Contact me at karen@grammargeddon.com and let’s discuss how to make that happen.

 

More information here: Social Media Proofreading

Lost in the words: a tale of two commas

Earlier this morning I was scrolling through my Twitter feed, and I came across a retweet concerning crop-circle art of Beto O’Rourke. About halfway through the text, I’d lost sight of the sentence structure. Why?

Here’s the tweet.

And here’s the text, copied exactly (links removed):

“Dying to know how this 2-acre “BETO 2020” crop circle made of sand, mulch, clay, rocks & pecan shells a little over a mile north of an Austin Texas airport less than a week after @BetoORourke announced his run for president shows up in @FEC campaign finance disclosures”

I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but by the time I got to “Austin Texas” I was asking myself what the crop circle did. I had yet to come to the relevant verb.

Grammar will help sort this out. The sentence subject isn’t present; it’s “I,” which is understood. “I’m dying to know.” That’s the basic sentence, here. However, that’s not the really important bit.

What is the writer dying to know? “How this crop circle” did something, presumably. You’ll notice I’m leaving out the modifiers. They’re not germane to the basic sentence. They add information, sure, but they’re not vital to a subject/verb structure.

A quick and dirty fix is to insert commas after “circle” and “president.” Then we have this:

Dying to know how this 2-acre “Beto 2020” crop circle, made of sand, mulch, clay, rocks & pecan shells a little over a mile north of an Austin Texas airport less than a week after @BetoORourke announced his run for president, shows up in @FEC campaign finance  disclosures

There’s no period because Twitter. That’s also why the subject, I, is understood and absent; it saves characters. Sure, we have 280 to play with now, but people are still stingy with them. This version uses 272.

Those commas I added indicate to the reader that what’s set off by them can be ignored safely to get to the meat of the sentence, which is this: Dying to know how this crop circle shows up in FEC campaign finance disclosures. (I’ve left out other modifiers, too, for clarity in making the point.) I’d prefer to see more commas, but as I said, this is quick and dirty. (Twitter register is oh, so forgiving.)

However, we could help readers more by making bigger changes. Those two commas are the minimum work. What if we rearrange the phrases and clauses a little?

Dying to know how this 2-acre “BETO 2020” crop circle shows up in @FEC campaign finance disclosures. Just over a mile north of an Austin, TX, airport, appearing less than a week after @BetoORourke announced his run for president. Made of sand, mulch, rocks, clay & pecan shells.

Two hundred seventy-eight characters. The gist of the tweet, which is the crop circle showing up in FEC documents, is together now rather than separated by a string of modifiers (“made of this and such,” “just over a mile north of an airport,” “less than a week after (he) announced his run for president”).  I also used “TX” instead of “Texas,” with commas where style required them. The least important information, what the circle is made of, comes at the end. We don’t have to use full sentences, again because Twitter.

Do we take time to edit like this before hitting “TWEET”? Of course not. We’re working at speed, on the fly. Some folks are better than others at composing succinct yet descriptive tweets.

This is the kind of work I once did for a national chain’s social media. I edited tweets and social media posts, which were scheduled to go up at specific times. When I see one that’s difficult to parse, my editor brain jumps in to see what can be done: what’s the least amount of editing necessary to help the reader? What more could be done if there’s time?

 

 

A GUMmy thing which might interest you

If you read that and you’re shouting “THAT!” at the screen (or your phone, or your tablet, or whatever device you might be reading this on), this is probably for you.

If you read that and you have no reaction whatsoever, you might not care. Read if you want. I won’t know if you go no farther (further?) than this.

So. The “which/that” issue is one that (or which) editors struggle with (or not, depending on their background), but that other folks don’t think much about. Brits, for example. They don’t differentiate, as a rule, and use the two words interchangeably.

However, some of us (::raises her hand high::) had it drilled into us that “which” is “nonrestrictive” and “that” is “restrictive” and we have, for decades, some of us, dutifully gone on “which hunts” every time we start a new project, ensuring that all usages adhere to the tradition we learned in high school.

The higher the register of the work, the more likely it will be expected to adhere to the differentiation. Generally speaking, of course.

Here’s how it works.

Bring me the red cloak that is behind the door.

Presumably, there are other red cloaks elsewhere. I want the one that’s behind the door. I’m restricting the options. “Behind the door” is important, because it’s telling you which (HAHAHAHA SEE WHAT HAPPENED THERE) red cloak I want. Not the one on the hook. Not the one on the bed. I want the one that is behind the door.

Bring me the red cloak, which is behind the door.

Two things are at work here. First, there’s that comma after “cloak.” Second, there’s “which” instead of “that.” There’s only one cloak, we can assume, in this scenario. It happens to be behind the door. I’m telling you that as an extra bit of information; it is not restricting you to only one cloak, because, well, there IS only one cloak, and it happens to be behind the door. The comma is a clue that we’re about to get more information that’s additional, not required. “Which” is the word of choice in this situation.

The thing is—and I’m looking over my shoulder for the Ghost of Mrs. Capps (because if anyone would haunt me over this, it’d be her)—that distinction is often overlooked, especially once you get away from the formal register. I’ve gotten to the point where I make my editorial decision based on readability. If I have to reread the sentence because the guideline wasn’t followed, I change it and I comment to the client, explaining why I did. Or, I’ll query without changing.

Bring me the red cloak which is behind the door. [Do you mean there is only one, and it’s behind the door? Or are there more, and you want that specific one? If you mean the first, we need a comma after “cloak.” If you mean the second, I suggest changing “which” to “that” here.]

Lynne Murphy (@lynneguist on Twitter) wrote a highly informative post about this at her blog, “Separated by a Common Language.” Check it out if you’re so inclined.