Category: General

Introductions and such

Is an eminence front imminent?

Those of a certain age will remember “Eminence Front” from The Who. Its lyrics describe the illusion of fame, the faux importance of posers. Influencers, perhaps, although they weren’t called that back then.

In any case, there’s eminence meaning importance, having elevated status in one’s field, the quality of being eminent; and there’s imminence, the state of being imminent or about to happen (the imminence of war); and then there’s the one even fewer people know about, which is immanence. That one means existing as an inherent part of something, the quality of being immanent, and it appears most often, but not exclusively, in writings on religious ideology: the immanence of Spirit/God, for example. I include it here because it sounds very similar to both of the other two, not because I see it misused.

I see “eminent” and “imminent” far more often than “eminence” and “imminence,” for what that’s worth (exactly what you paid for it, honestly). That’s merely an observation, for which I offer no reference other than my own experience. (But if you wanted, you could try an Ngram search, maybe.)

Eminence can be a noun, too, referring to an individual possessing that elevated status. It appears in the phrase eminence grise: as such, it means what one might call “the power behind the throne.” One who wields power without having been granted authority. One who is able to control, through shadowy means (hence “gray”).

To answer my own question, I’d say the eminence front is far past imminent. It’s been here for years, now. (See my comment about influencers. No, I don’t have a high opinion of them in general.)

A non-grammar post for St Crispin’s Day

No, I don’t want to put a period/full stop after “St,” because in BrE standard mechanics there isn’t one. (There’s a logic to it, but that’s another post. Stick around and I might explain someday.)

In 2015 I got a wild hair and wrote a parody of the famed “St Crispin’s Day” speech from Shakespeare’s “Henry V.” The speaker is Hereford V, rallying his troops for St Frisian’s Day. Of course, there is no “St Frisian.” I’m of Frisian heritage, and it amused me to toy with the words.

Anyway, here’s my poor effort at parodying that rousing passage. I hope you at least groan and roll your eyes.

*****

Welsh Black. O that we now had here

But one ten thousand of those bulls in England

That do no work to-day!

Hereford V. What’s he that wishes so?

My cousin Welsh Black? No, my fair cousin;

If we are mark’d to die, we are enow

To do our country loss; and if to live,

The fewer bulls, the greater share of honour.

God’s will! I pray thee, wish not one bull more.

By Jersey, I am not covetous for gold,

Nor care I who doth feed upon my meat;

It yearns me not if bulls my pastures graze;

Such outward things dwell not in my desires.

But if it be a sin to covet honour,

I am the most offending soul alive.

No, faith, my coz, wish not a bull from England.

God’s peace! I would not lose so great an honour

As one bull more methinks would share from me

For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!

Rather proclaim it, Welsh Black, through my host,

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,

Let him depart; the barnyard gates shall open,

And none shall speak him ill as he departs;

We would not die in that bull’s company

That fears his fellowship to die with us.

This day is call’d the feast of Frisian.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,

Will stand a tip-hoof when this day is nam’d,

And rouse him at the name of Frisian.

He that shall live this day, and see old age,

Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,

And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Frisian.’

Then will he turn his flank and show his scars,

And say ‘These wounds I had on Frisian’s day.’

Old bulls forget; yet all shall be forgot,

But he’ll remember, with advantages,

What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,

Familiar in his mouth as household words—

Hereford the King, Bernaise and Evolene,

Warwickshire, Shetland, Salers and Gloucestershire—

Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb’red.

This story shall the good bull teach his son;

And Holstein Frisian shall ne’er go by,

From this day to the ending of the world,

But we in it shall be remembered—

We few, we happy few, we herd of brothers;

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And peaceful bulls in England now-a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,

And hold their stud fees cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Frisian’s day.

Obligatory year-end review post

It’s been, as they say, A Year.

At least I made it through this one without any major health scares, surgeries, procedures, and the like. I’m triple-vaxed (two Modernas and a Janssen booster). I got my flu shot. I’ve been coughing and sneezing like mad for the last 10 days thanks to leaf mold, but that’s nothing contagious. I’ve not had so much as a cold all year, thanks to COVID precautions. Yes, I mask when I leave the house. I’ve recently begun using KN95s from MaskC, instead of my previous cloth coverings (from various sources like Etsy and SockFancy). While Illinois has a state-wide mask mandate, I see plenty of scofflaws when I’m out. I can’t trust anyone but myself and my immediate family. So, KN95s it is.

I had to close the business for the months of April and May because we were moving from Wisconsin to my childhood home, here in Illinois. I won’t bore you with the many sordid details (and there are many, and they are indeed sordid). Thank you to all of you who gave so generously when we ran the GFM to help us relocate and pay the associated fees, taxes, bills, and so on. Without you, we’d have sunk.

When I did reopen in June, business was very slow indeed. That’s precisely why I had decided in August of 2020 to file for early retirement benefits. I needed to know there would be some base income every month, and that was the best guarantee. It’s amusing to me, in a sad sort of way, that my business has lessened every year; my clients who were writing series have all finished them, and new ones are few and far between. That has turned out to be not entirely a bad thing during the last year. Work shows up when I need it the most, and really, that’s a pretty good deal.

For now, I’ve settled in to redecorate the kitchen to my taste instead of my mother’s. It’s slow going, but I’m fine with that. Act in haste, repent at leisure. So far I have changed the window valances from a pale print of cherries on a cream background (from Martha Stewart, of all brands) to a rich print of green and purple grapes on the vine. Etsy is a gold mine. Next, I think I’ll hunt for chair cushions. The current ones are past threadbare.

Oh, and there’s a Holstein-Frisian cow-print stand mixer cover on its way to me from . . . Ohio? I think? An Etsy seller. I’m about supporting small business when I can, especially now that I’m officially a small business owner myself.

Right, that’s the other big thing that happened in 2021. I incorporated as a single-member LLC. And three months later, we moved. ::mad laughter:: That meant domesticating the LLC in Illinois, and before tax time I’ll have to dissolve the one in Wisconsin. Never, EVER a dull moment.

So, apologies for this post having nothing to do with grammar or editing or usage or any of my usual topics. It’s been A Year.

And we are still here. Cheers, friends, and here’s to 2022.

The only constant in life is change—Heraclitus

I’m still here.

You may have thought I vanished, or fell ill, or was kidnapped by wild elementary school teachers.

Nah. I’m still here. But it’s been a rough few months.

Back in April we were surprised to find out that someone was interested in buying my husband’s house. (It wasn’t on the market, not officially.) After a whirlwind of papers (thank you, DocuSign) and a house tour, the buyers made a cash offer we couldn’t refuse.

Two weeks later they backed out. I won’t bore you with details. Yes, it was legal. No, we couldn’t fight it.

In the meantime we had set wheels in motion to move to my house, the one I inherited from my dad. Old limestone and frame farmhouse, sitting on four acres, right on the edge of the teeny town I grew up in. In fact, my ancestors built the house. Both the frame part (now the kitchen, originally a 1-room cabin across the road) and the stone part (from a quarry owned by a family down the road, whose descendants still live there). Anyway . . .

We couldn’t stop the wheels once they began turning. We were going to move.

And it got hairy. It’s still hairy, but we’re in the house, and we have a real bedroom and an actual office (shared space, this time), and our second-oldest kid lives with us. They teach 2nd grade in a town about 45 minutes from here. Together we have four cats (you may have seen me tweet about losing the Old Cat Man a couple of weeks back, just after we moved here) and a dog. It’s a houseful.

And it’s wonderful, honestly.

We’re running a GoFundMe that my husband created, in which he explains some backstory. I’ll share the link here, and then I won’t bring it up again. The donors have gotten us to 70% of our goal, which is mind-blowing to say the least; it only went up on the 11th, and here we are 5 days later at nearly three-quarters raised. WOW.

If you want to donate directly instead of through the GFM, you can do that via http://PayPal.me/KarenConlin

Or, if you’d like to work with me on your book or short story or what have you, and you’d like to put the down payment toward our funding drive, that’s great, too. Details for my services are at my personal page here on the site. I’m happy to take an amount as a down payment and work out the details later (like the actual word count, a calendar slot, and so on).

If you just want to share the link, that’s fantastic too. Sharing is free. Sometimes that’s what we can afford to do.

Thank you all for reading. I’m planning to be around more now that things are settling down a bit.

Oh, here’s that link: https://gofund.me/a73badcf

Thanks, everyone.

No first drafts, please.

I’ve written about this before, but perhaps not this baldly. (That’s “baldly.” Not “badly.”)

It’s right there in the author documents I ask every potential client to read, but, well . . . we all know how bad people are at following directions, don’t we. (No, that’s not a question. No question mark.) I tend to use that to weed out the folks I probably wouldn’t work well with; if they can’t follow simple instructions like “please click this link and read the documents,” I have a good sense that they won’t make good partners in the work of editing their writing.

I do not take first drafts. I will not work on them. I am not here to teach basic English writing, including grammar and mechanics (never mind style and usage).

The materials I make available to potential clients (they’re linked from my bio page at this blog, and I ask everyone to read them) state clearly that I expect files coming to me to be as clean as the writer can get them. Maybe that means eleventy-million drafts. Maybe it means a critique partner (CP) or three, or a bevy of beta readers. I don’t care, honestly; how it gets cleaned up isn’t my business.

Why do I insist on this?

Because, folks, when I get copy that’s as clean as the writer can make it, I can concentrate on the real editing. I can look at their style and see how best to make suggestions for clarifications or wording changes. If the sentences are below standard, I’m taking all my time making them grammatical and fixing mechanics, leaving nothing for the actual work: polishing prose until it glitters.

I’m not a language arts teacher. I’m a professional editor. In order to do my best work, I need to have yours.

What a dictionary is and isn’t, from this editor’s point of view

I’m not a lexicographer, but I know several from Twitter. That’s my disclaimer. What I’m writing here is taken from English-language dictionaries themselves (did you know the print versions usually include a “how to use this book” section?), personal experience, and Twitter discussions.

Dictionaries do not dictate how you are allowed to use a word. They do, however, tell you how words are used. Do you see the difference? They’re showing you a snapshot, in essence, of the English language at a moment in time. The definitions change with the language, but not as quickly as language changes. For a word to enter a dictionary, or for its definition to change, that word must appear in print in places where the lexicographers can cite it. That can be news media, fiction, nonfiction, periodicals, personal correspondence made public, transcripts of speech, websites, and so on. Continue reading “What a dictionary is and isn’t, from this editor’s point of view” →

The third year: ACES 2019, Providence

The first year was amazing and overwhelming and filled with revelatory moments, nearly all related to the sudden realization that yes, there ARE other people as into editing as I am, as fond of reading books about words (including the dictionary), and as eager to talk to someone just like themselves.

The second year is mostly a blur thanks to my being awarded the prestigious Robinson Prize. I had so completely convinced myself it was not going to happen that I’m still a little agog that it did.

And so it is we come to the third year. I renewed many friendships and acquaintances, made a goodly number of new ones, and met a few of my heroes, to wit: Ben Dreyer of Random House, Mary Norris of The New York Times, Mignon Fogarty (the Grammar Girl), and Ellen Jovin (who goes by “GrammarTable” on Twitter, and is known for setting up a card table in Verdi Square, NYC, and answering GUMmy stuff questions for free, for anyone who stops to ask).

On another note, I was floored when Dan Heuman of Intelligent Editing (makers of PerfectIt3) introduced himself to me at the Thursday night reception and thanked me for saying such wonderful things about their product. And then we went to a whiskey bar with James Harbeck and Dan Sosnoski. I’m still floored. (But not from the booze.)

The highlight this year was presenting the 2019 Robinson Prize to Rob Reinalda. From a field of fourteen nominees, he rose quickly to the top of the heap, so to speak. I had the honor of being both one of the judges and the presenter. I managed not to give anything away, even when at a morning session he and his wife, Teresa, sat behind me and as they took their places I heard him say in a low voice, “There’s Grammargeddon Angel. You know, Karen Conlin.” I played it cool even as I got up and scrambled around the chairs to greet them both. It’s one thing to be Twitter-acquaintances and quite another to meet in meatspace (as we say).

After the conference ended, I stayed another full day and met one of my long-time clients, Lisa Cohen (author of the HALCYONE SPACE series, among other books). We wandered through the Rhode Island School of Design Museum of Art, and then I introduced her to New York System hot weiners and coffee milk at Baba’s. It was a good day.

One thing I made a point of doing this year was talking one-on-one to first-time attendees, sometimes over a meal (it was my delight to treat them). Having written an article for the ACES website aimed at helping first-timers better navigate the conference, I felt it was only right that I put myself out there to do so in person when I could.

Of the trip home, the less said, the better. I live-tweeted my journey as it happened. The short form is I landed eight hours later than originally scheduled, after being rebooked through three airports.

And then I slept.

And now? I’m back to regular life, like everyone else, and I’m looking forward to next year in Salt Lake City.

 

Pronouns are personal

By which I mean, people get to choose their pronouns. Now that the breaking down of the gender binary is in full swing (and I hope it keeps right on breaking, personally), if someone identifies as NB (nonbinary, or enby), they get to choose “they” if that’s how they want to be referred to. (I’ll wager there are other flavors involved, like genderfluid, but as a bi cis woman, I don’t get to claim I know anything. I’ve seen it discussed, and the conversation’s far from over.)

So, when a professional editor tells an author (one they’re going to publish!) that “they” is unacceptable and that gendered pronouns must be used in the author’s bio (IN THEIR OWN BIO!), well …

Twitter drags them. And rightly so.

I wrote two tweets in response to this mess. The first one had my usual vulgarity (because yes, I believe this is utter bullshit and I call it like I see it); the second was written in a higher register, with more formal word choices and tone (but I still used singular they, ja you betcha). Why? Because of a related issue. At least I see they’re related. Actually, there are three that come to mind.

One is policing people’s language and word choice to reinforce the status quo. I suppose I get this one on level, maybe. But honestly, who is being harmed by someone choosing to be called “they/them?” Who’s injured by that? No one. Oh, sure, you can tell me it’s “harming the language.”

Guess what. It’s not doing any such thing.

Another is using your platform (as a editor, a publisher, a reviewer, whatever) to tell someone that your English is better and therefore YOU are better. That’s what happens when someone denies someone else the choice of a pronoun set. It’s classist (“I speak properly, you don’t”) and it’s phobic (“I’m straight and cis, and you’re something else, and that scares me so no, you can’t use those pronouns”).

It’s unethical and it’s rude (and it’s outmoded). I’ll bet you all know that “they” has been used in the singular since the 1300s. EIGHT HUNDRED YEARS. And a considerable amount of that usage has been printed and published.

Then there’s the “they never whine about ‘you,’ so why are they mad about ‘they?'” contingent. Well, they don’t whine about “you” because that particular change has been over and done (and the singular usage established) for nearly as long, coinciding with the Early Modern English years (roughly the Tudor and Stuart dynasties, or mid-1450s through early 1700s).

I’m no linguist, nor do I play one on TV. But I’ll take a shot in the dark at this. I wonder if the big pushback against “they” as a singular pronoun has to do with gender. Bear with me.

“Thou/thee” are/were second-person singular pronouns. “You/ye” are/were the plural forms. Here’s the thing: when you’re speaking to another person, you don’t NEED to specify their gender. (Oh DeAr GoDs A sInGuLaR “tHeIr”) You’re right there with them, looking at them. And with the plural, it doesn’t matter anyway. We don’t use gender markers with second-person pronouns. Only with third-person (he/him/his and she/her/hers, but the plural is they/them/theirs).

That fear of “not knowing if they’re male or female or what” is, I think, what’s keeping the fire lit under the cauldron of singular they.

Why is it so scary? They are who they are. You are who you are. I am who I am.

What’s scary about that?

Third, there’s the register issue. Formal registers use formal grammar and language and diction (word choices). Informal ones use casual forms. My first tweet contained the word “bullshit” twice. And you know what? I’m positive (and I do mean positive) that some folks brushed it off because of that word. Surely a professional, a former English teacher, would never, ever use such language. Therefore, this person (me!) must not really be a professional.

Guess what. Professionals curse. A LOT. And on Twitter? Boy, howdy. That’s like a big backyard party, with folks coming and going and just chatting and being themselves. I curse on Twitter, especially when I get angry about something. And ESPECIALLY when that something is a professional in my field (editing) behaving badly toward an author.

However, I decided this morning to RT the original tweet again, and this time my comment was in a far more formal register. (I still used a singular they, because TAKE THAT, ENGLISH TEACHER BRAIN!) And I noticed that a different group of people interacted with that one. Now, that could be merely a case of them not seeing last night’s tweet. But, it could just as well be a case of them choosing not to give attention to that one because of the language, and interacting with the “proper” one instead.

I dunno.

And I honestly don’t care. I’m not being harmed by it, and neither is anyone else. I choose my words as I see fit, taking many factors into account. I said basically the same thing in both comments, but one was more personal (“find a different publisher because this is bullshit”) and the other more formal (“it’s a breach of ethics and trust to deny an author the right to choose the pronouns they want used in their own bio”).

And I’m standing by all of it.

[There has been a non-apology issued by the publisher, by which I mean it was mealy-mouthed: “we had no idea” (you did, once the author pointed it out to you, but you ignored it and dug in) and “we apologize for any pain we may have caused” but without a direct “We’re sorry, and we’ll do better” to the wronged author. Ugh]

I’m still here.

I know, it’s been nearly three months since I last posted here. Life keeps happening.

My elderly father’s been vacillating between “aging in place” and moving to an assisted living facility. Granted, he’s 92; he can no longer drive after dark; his closest friends are moving sometime in the next year, back to California; his health isn’t awful, but he’s in slow decline, more physically than mentally.

Other family things have been going on, which I won’t discuss. Just know that, as I said up there, “life keeps happening.”

I’m still editing, albeit less than before merely by dint of other people’s lives happening to them. Nearly every slot I booked has slipped by a couple of months or more, which means I can book into the now-empty slots, but money I had roughly planned for isn’t coming for a couple of months or more. (See “slipped by.”)

However, I’m still here. I’m still reading and editing and tweeting. I’m still that opinionated one who says what she thinks. I’m not going anywhere, at least not that I’m aware of.

(This is mostly a test of the new editor at WordPress, but it’s also a chance to touch base with those of you who have subbed to my blog. I haven’t forgotten you. I promise.)

Another way to support me and my work

I’ve set up a Patreon. My hope is that folks will be interested in investing a little of their cash to have a say in what topics I write about here. Some of them might even want the opportunity to effectively hire me on retainer, paying an amount over time to have me edit their work either free (a short story) or at a discount (novels from 70,000 to 80,000 words). In between there are rewards like access to my private Discord server, where we might just hang out at the Water Cooler or I might hold some kind of educational or professional session in the Conference Room.

I hope you’ll at least click on the link to see what’s there, and maybe tell a few friends about it. This blog is my baby. I want to raise it right.

Karen Conlin at Patreon