The Subversive Copy Editor Blog

And the Winner Is . . .

 

 

Thank you so much, fellow confessors! It was fun, therapeutic, and a little painful reading about your gaffes and lapses. Many of them sound familiar: spelling-check errors, overlooked homophones, misguided global corrections, and those goofs that are simply too huge to catch. The most cringe-worthy are perhaps the ones we introduce ourselves in a moment of mental vacation.

4ndyman wins the copy of Moonlight Blogger! A random number picker landed on your confession, but that “Foreward” for “Foreword” goof especially tickled me because I’ve done it myself—twice. The last time was years ago; I’m hopeful that the resulting trauma will continue to prevent me from doing it again.

I’d also like to thank all you great sinners for your generous and courteous responses. I love this community of editors and writers who defy the stereotype of the gotcha, nitpicking comma jockey. Anyone reading your copyediting confessions can see that you regret them. You care about the work and about the reader—but you also have some perspective and a sense of humor. You’ve learned as I have that in copyediting, as in life in general, that’s the way to live.

 

Copyeditor Confessions: Me First

  Photo: psyberartist

Here in Chicago we have to work at celebrating the advent of spring. Even typing in my subzero office is challenging—thank god for fingerless gloves. So my idea is this: in the spirit of spring cleaning, since there’s no way I’m throwing my mattresses out in the snow, let’s air our consciences instead. Let’s confess our copyediting sins! I’ll stop at three. (Not that I have more . . .)

1. In a lengthy reference book, I failed to notice that the paragraphs on Mies van der Rohe appeared under R instead of under M until the book was at a late stage of production. Ten pages had to be reflowed and all those page numbers in the index had to be adjusted accordingly (by me).

2. After an author and I renumbered the figures in a book I edited, I forgot to notify the other departments, and the wrong images appeared in the page proofs.

3. On a three-volume project, I signed off on jacket copy that featured roman numerals for the volume numbers instead of the arabic numerals we had used everywhere else.  

OK—your turn! No pushing—there’s plenty of room for everyone. It will feel great, I promise. Join the community of editors who don’t pretend to be superhuman, and list your sins in the comments area below. And mind you, this is not a forum for writers who want to complain about bad copyeditors. I’ve talked about that before, and I’ll do it again. Today is about good copyeditors who had a bad day.

In any case, there should be no shame in making a mistake now and then. If you had seen the complexity of that appendix, the number of items I checked and cross-checked, and the number of corrections I made, you would probably forgive me spacing out on Mies. It’s a rare editor who catches every last error in a long or complicated project. If you’re young, you’re still learning; if you’re older, you probably have more editorial responsibility. But with luck, we keep learning from every goof.

So please don’t leave me twisting in the wind all alone here; I’m counting on you for assurance that I’m not the only one who makes mistakes! To encourage your confessions, I’ll send a free copy of my Moonlight Blogger to one commenter drawn at random from all those who post by noon on Friday, March 29.*

Remember: the topic is copyediting transgressions. Beyond that, please share with a professional. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone.**

______

*Paperback or Kindle within the continental United States; Kindle only, otherwise.

**That’s a lie. This is the Internet.

 

 

Wannabe Editors: Can You Pass a Proofreading Test?

 

                                                                           Photo: Seth Sawyers

When my office hires at the entry level, there’s a proofreading and copyediting test, and for various reasons we give the test in person and on paper. It levels the playing field by eliminating access to e-mail and online sources. It shows us how a person will mark up copy on the job (a frequent chore for the new kid). It isolates proofing and editing skills from word-processing skills.

Results vary.

So in the interests of helping young editors in search of employment, I’d like to talk about the second-most common* fatal error that candidates make on the test: that is, their failure to understand the concept of proofreading. Every time we hire, I rewrite the test instructions in the hopes of making them flunk-proof, but there is inevitably at least one smart, promising candidate who in spite of alleged experience proofreading and copyediting still manages to miss the point of the exercise.

In the proofreading test, the candidate is given two versions of a document: The first is a typed page, double-spaced and covered with corrections handwritten by a copyeditor. This is typically called the manuscript. The second is a typeset page—it looks like a photocopy of a page of a published book. The second was typeset from the first, and if all has gone well, the hand-marked corrections will have been incorporated into the typeset (final) version.

The test instructions say to proofread the typeset version, not to mark on the manuscript, and to query anything that isn’t clear. Experienced proofreaders know to read the typeset version against the manuscript very closely, comparing the two, looking at every letter and space and punctuation mark to make sure that the two versions are identical and that no text has been added or deleted by accident. In the olden days, two people would share the task: one would read the original aloud, including punctuation and corrections, while the other followed along in the typeset version.

Naturally, the typeset version has errors in it—after all, it’s a test. The errors are of three main types: (1) the typesetters failed to make a requested correction, (2) the typesetters introduced a new error in a place where no correction was marked, and (3) the typesetters followed the editor’s marking accurately, but the editor’s marking was incorrect. The third type should be rare.

The idea is to correct the first two kinds of errors without querying, and query the third kind.**

Simple enough? Evidently not quite, for job candidates go wrong in two ways. First, they fail to compare closely enough, so in passages where all seems well in the typeset version, they miss the second type of error.

Worse, they query all three types of errors, instead of only the third. This is profoundly unhelpful in real life. It virtually defeats the purpose of proofreading, which is to flag unresolved issues—and only unresolved issues. Flagging nearly everything the editor marked for correction is tantamount to asking “Did you really mean to correct this?” when it is obvious that she did. It makes extra work, since she will have to check in each case. She might as well have proofread the thing herself.

Perhaps the concept of proofreading is trickier for a generation brought up in the digital age of typesetting, but fortunately, once it is understood, proofreading is the easiest of all editing tasks. And fortunately for proofreaders seeking work, there are still plenty of ways typesetting can go wrong.

______

*The most common error is sloppy handwriting. I feel hypocritical mentioning this, because I know I would never hire myself for a job that required neat writing. But even so, when I write something that I know must be read by colleagues, I take care over it. I make a habit of writing in pencil, and I often erase and rewrite. Bottom line: if a potential employer can’t read your test, and part of the job involves marking up copy for typesetters, you’re toast. So if you are going to be tested, and if you know your usual markings look like the paper in your gerbil’s cage after a week, take a couple of sharpened pencils and an eraser with you. If you forget, ask for them. (Yes, you’ll look like a loser in the moment, but it’s better than making a mess in ink. And depending on the competition, you might still have a chance.)

**In real life, proofreaders are not always charged with querying anomalies, and excessive querying that amounts to second-guessing the copyeditor is not the goal.

 

An Opportunity for Word Nerds: Beta-Test the Dictionary of Regional English

Just a short note today to let you know of an opportunity to have free online access to the new Dictionary of American Regional English in exchange for your help in vetting it—if you qualify, that is! 

For writers and copyeditors, this compendium of the most colorful variations of American English expression is irresistibly useful and fun.

Allan Metcalf explains how to apply in a post today at Lingua Franca.

Good luck!

 

 

Tech Tips: Two Chores Made Easy

Today I have tips for disposing of two tasks in mere seconds. While less savvy writers and editors are laboring over for the same chores for hours, we can go dancing!

[NB: Back up work before making any global change to a document.]

Removing All Field Codes (Including Hyperlinks) from a Document

Do you ever run across strange, shadowy, curly-bracketed expressions lurking in your documents? Or chunks of text that turn gray when you click anywhere within them? Or lots of hyperlinked URLs that are merely excess baggage if a document is headed for a print publication? These bits of tagged text can be extremely useful—essential—for compiling data, updating documents, and other chores I almost never need to do. You might actually need your field codes, so consider carefully before you wipe them out. Once you’re certain they’re disposable, there’s a way to trash them all at once, in two seconds. (Don’t worry about disturbing automatically numbered or bulleted lists or linked footnotes or endnotes. Although they may fall within the scary gray description, they’re a bit more difficult to dislodge. See below.)

1. Highlight the chunk you want to remove fields from. (Ctrl-A highlights the entire document.)

2. Hit Shift-Ctrl-F9.

Ta-daa! All gone.

Learn more about inserting and deleting field codes.

Converting Automatic Numbering to Typed Numbers

Like field codes, automatic numbering can save lifetimes of word processing. This feature allows you to add or delete an item near the top of a numbered list and watch all the numbers below it neatly increase or decrease by one. However, when the auto-feature isn’t needed or welcome, simply removing the numbered formatting in Microsoft Word leaves the text without any numbers at all.

Fortunately, there’s an easy way to save yourself keying in all the missing numbers. It involves putting a toe into the waters of Visual Basic, but don’t be frightened.* I promise: you can do it. I did it, and I’m here to tell the tale. Back up your document and go for it:

1. Highlight the chunk of text that contains the automatic numbering you want to convert to typed numbers. (Don’t worry about automatically numbered footnotes and endnotes; they’ll survive.)

2. Click Alt-F11. A Microsoft Visual Basic screen will open.

3. Under the View tab, choose Immediate Window. A little window will open across the bottom of the Visual Basic screen.

4. Type the following or paste it in:

Selection.Range.ListFormat.ConvertNumbersToText

5. Hit Enter.

6. Close the Visual Basic screen.

That’s it—your numbering should now be typed instead of automatic.

______

*I confess that I never work in Visual Basic and have no idea what it is. My level of understanding is like that of a rat running a maze to get a hit of cocaine: I do the steps; I get what I want. I’m telling you this so you don’t come back to me if it goes wrong. You did back up your work, right?

~ ~ ~

Moonlight Blogger free on Kindle!

Interested in more tech tips, copyeditor musings, and occasional silliness? Starting today, for three days only (January 9–11, 2013), Moonlight Blogger for the Kindle is free. If you enjoy it, feel free to post a review at Amazon or Goodreads. (If you don’t enjoy it—well, what did you expect for free?)

 

How Sticklers Give Copyediting a Bad Name

 

Public sticklers have annoyed me forever, and I’ve been meaning to write about that, but recently in a post titled “Editors, Would You Do Me This Tiny Favour?” Katy McDevitt at PublishEd Adelaide did a great job of it herself.

McDevitt gets to the meat of it in point 3: “It gives people the wrong idea about what editors do and what we think about”:

Let’s kick that greengrocer’s apostrophe myth to one side and focus on the huge, constructive contributions that editors make, whether that’s helping authors to achieve clear, polished English, restructuring awkward passages of text, or any of the dozens of other ways we fix, polish, hone, and otherwise make a book ready for its star turn.

Exactly. When copyeditors brag that they haven’t overlooked a typo since they were twelve, they reinforce the image of a superficial reader with her elementary-school list of rules chopping away at the weeds without noticing the forest or where the path is headed. They relegate our profession to the status of other stereotypes that ignore the challenging, creative, intellectual aspects of a job: the librarian who is there to shush, the accountant to count beans; the novelist to crank out what everyone would if they* only had the time.

We’ve all seen how a post that derides sticklers attracts a raft of commenters who insist that without attention to punctuation and grammar, communication and trust are compromised. I get it. We all get it. But can’t we take it for granted that scrupulous attention to grammar and punctuation is a part of copyediting, instead of elevating it to the definition of what we do?

Scolding about typos and pouncing on errant apostrophes are cheap grabs for low-hanging fruit. And much of it is misinformed and counterproductive. Public sticklers waste our time on outdated rules or rules that never existed in the first place. And they waste our time by drawing focus from the point of an article or post. How many times does a fussy commenter ignore the subject entirely in pointing out a typo? Other commenters then pile on to chastise or encourage, and all hope of intelligent conversation is lost. Is that the kind of reading you would want for your own book or article?

Finally, there’s a basic discourtesy in the “You missed a spot!” way of life. Confirmed sticklers could redeem themselves by pointing out typos kindly and discreetly. Even better, they could comment on the actual content and add their corrections as a postscript. Writers are trying to communicate something–and writers are not the best proofreaders and copyeditors of their own work. It would be helpful if all those cheerleaders for communication could focus a little more on the message and put the occasional grammar or punctuation gaffe into proportion.

______

*Readers who wish to comment on this use of they are requested to support their comments with two current, authoritative sources.

 

~ ~ ~

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For Writers: Promoting Your Book; Is There Any Point?

(Some chores are more fun than others!)

How many times have you run into someone at a writers’ event who seems freaked out by the task of marketing a new book? It’s always the same: the writer is eager to arrange book signings and public readings and school visits. She knows she needs a website and that she has to do Twitter and Facebook, but she isn’t sure why. She’s a little confused about whether she needs to blog. Some of these tasks interest her and some sound like the worst kind of torment. She usually concludes with “And how am I supposed to find time to write?”

What she might not take into account is that (a) some kinds of marketing are not as useful as others, (b) what’s best for your book is unique to your book, (c) nobody can know for sure what that is, and (d) even when a book is successful, it’s nearly impossible to know which—if any—of your promotion efforts had anything to do with it.

Not only is there no magic formula, it’s possible that some kinds of marketing are pretty much pointless for your book.

Here are a few thoughts about the effectiveness of promotion efforts. Feel free to use the ones that apply to you (if you can figure out which ones they are):

Website

If you hate the idea of maintaining a website, it might be enough to create a one-page site that requires minimal maintenance. It’s not hard, and you can do it for free at WordPress or Blogger. A web page is helpful to potential reviewers, to teachers or librarians who might order your book or ask you to visit, and to readers who want to know more. If your publisher gives you a page, that might suffice. If you are self-published, a web page is more important. Set up a page with information about you and your book, links to venders, and contact information, and you’re set. Discussion questions add good value. Updates in the first months can be limited to quotes from good reviews and a list of awards and honors. Posting the dates and places of personal appearances, guest posts, and interviews is optional. Blogging is another whole question (see next item).

Blogging

If you don’t have content to offer that goes deeper than an ad for your book, there is little point in blogging (that is, writing essays or reviews at regular—or irregular—intervals and posting them at your site). A case in point: sales of my adult nonfiction book are driven by my weekly blog posts of professional advice to writers and editors. In contrast, I have no advice or expertise to offer at the website of my middle-grade novel, so I don’t blog there.

Twitter and Facebook

Twitter and Facebook might very well fall into the “useless” category for your book. In my own experience, Twitter has proven to be a powerful marketing tool for my adult nonfiction book, because with minimal effort I’m able to give my followers advice, job-related humor, and links to useful articles (including my own blog posts). I tweet two or three times a week; my 4,000 followers retweet me to many thousands of their followers; and every week I gain 20 to 40 new followers who are perhaps learning about my book for the first time.

Fiction writers may have less to offer in Twitter and Facebook content. How many ways can you say “Buy my book” and still interest someone who has already read it? I know that superstar novelists have big followings and make use of these platforms to gain more. And if I ever finish my killer paranormal YA crossover novel, I’ll try hard to entertain my new hoards of fans, who will be eager to hear what I ate for breakfast and what I’m wearing to the premier of the movie version. But if you’re unknown and your book is a quiet literary novel or your young audience isn’t online, keeping up any kind of interest in it on Twitter might be a tough sell.

Building a following on Twitter from nothing is difficult. Many writers with big Twitter and Facebook followings are those who already have a lot of attention from media because they won a major award or there’s a movie based on their book or they happen to be celebrities in the first place. My adult nonfiction book was published in connection with a perennial best-seller (The Chicago Manual of Style) that gave me an instant following. I continue to ride its coattails, in that CMOS retweets me and promotes my blog posts. So if you think you might get a sudden media blast that will result in readers seeking you out, be prepared by setting up accounts. But unless your book is the type that collects hoards of screaming little fans and you are the type of writer who loves feeding them, consider skipping this type of promotion. 

Personal Appearances

When a new book comes out, all your friends are going to ask about tours and signings and panels, and this might be the spotlight you’ve always dreamed would shine on you. Go for it! It could be the most fun you ever had. But don’t count on it leading to significant sales. My bet is that most writers spend more money on these events (traveling, printing cards and posters, buying something to wear) than they ever regain as a direct result in royalties. I’ve had bookstore events where not a single person showed up. Even if 20 people come to your signing (a great turnout) and every last one of them buys a book (not likely), multiply that times your royalty and do the math.

School visits have greater potential, not only for great personal satisfaction in doing something wonderful for children, but also for selling copies of your book. Although you will have to invest some money (and a lot of precious time) preparing, if you arrange things right, sales before and at the event can be significant, and you can charge a fee as well. There’s also potential for more appearances and sales as a result of recommendations you’ll get from all the teachers and librarians you charm.

Guest Posting

I have not found it difficult to promote Eddie’s War on various review sites where guest posts are welcome. I simply emailed the host and asked, and about half the time, the answer was yes. However, only once or twice has my post seemed to reach many readers. Considering the amount of time I put into writing the essays, I’ve come to believe that it’s best to be choosy about where you guest post, since it’s potentially the most labor for the least return. When someone contacts me asking me to write a guest post, I don’t hesitate to ask about the size of the audience. If the blogger says she doesn’t know, I politely decline.

Is It Worth It?

In sum, I can think of only two good reasons to market your book through social media.

First, market your book if you have the time to do the work and you believe in the shotgun effect: that reaching as many people as possible has the potential to lead to an interview, a review, and eventually actual sales—even if many of your individual efforts (a tweet, a guest post, a night at your public library author fair where only two people stop at your table) fail to hit any target.

And second, market your book if you enjoy doing it. Writers of children’s books like to write: you might find joy in posting your thoughts in a blog. There’s plenty of fun and education in engaging on Twitter and Facebook, even if your own stats stay flat. (For more on this, read Susan Bearman, “Twitter for Writers,” Prairie Wind, Spring 2012.) And lots of us glory in standing in front of a few customers at a bookstore or book fair, being “The Author,” even if hardly anyone buys the book.

If You Hate Marketing

If you hate pushing your book but feel obliged to, here’s my last, best advice:

—Choose the kind of chore you like best and forget about the rest. You might hate school visits, but love crafting a blog post. Others might find the whole online scene annoying but blossom in the classroom or library in front of a crowd. Go with your strengths and have fun.

—Resolve to quit marketing after a reasonable launching period, say a year. Few professional reviewers will touch a title that’s more than a year old anyway, and by that time it will no longer eligible for awards and “Best” lists. From that point on, if your book has merit it will continue to quietly gain readers by word of mouth and by viral proliferation of online lists and links.

—Use all the time you’re saving to make your next book your best book.

 

Reprinted from SCBWI-Illinois,  Prairie Wind (Fall 2012): 54.

 

Dear Carol: My Staff Is Out of Control!

                                    Photo courtesy Aaron Muszalski

Dear Ms. Saller, 

I’m an editor who craves (and requires) an orderly chain of command when handling a manuscript. Up to this point, I’ve worked with a limited staff: me, a copyeditor, and a designer. We’re expanding the journal. It is now an online publication. Now, I’m working with others in the office who are in the habit of distributing manuscripts and video files to a whole group of people simultaneously for feedback. I hate this disorderly process, which seems counterproductive. 

How should I impose order? Is there a protocol you can lay out to guide me (and others) in work environments where manuscripts are flung around via e-mail for an editing bacchanalia?

Thanks,

S. Cassidy

Dear S. Cassidy,

With the expansion of your journal comes a chance—and a responsibility—to establish procedures.

It’s normal in publishing for copy that must be seen by many eyes to route sequentially, with each person marking corrections and signing off before sending it to the next person on the list. This ancient tradition is still so firmly engrained that many houses (including the University of Chicago Press) still walk a single copy of some documents around the house on paper.

The problem with readers vetting documents simultaneously is just as you describe: a nightmare of version control. I can’t think of any efficient way for someone to take all the versions and sort out which corrections and suggestions to accept, especially when readers have worked at cross purposes and contradicted each other, and no one has seen anyone else’s suggestions.

Whether you do it by means of a locked file sent by e-mail attachment (so all changes are tracked by author) or by a paper copy with a routing slip attached, the idea is to allow only one reader at a time. Start with whoever might make the most changes on that particular document: the writer, the acquirer, the marketer, the designer. List others in whatever order makes the most sense for that type of document, with the copyeditor near the end to clean up all the emendations, query anything contradictory, and find answers to questions.

Since not everyone vets everything, make up some template attachments that show the routing order for each type of document (catalog copy, art, proofs). Next to each name add blanks for a signature and the date signed. (Having to add the date gives the reader a small incentive not to sit on the copy—later, it will always be obvious where a holdup occurred.) Note the date at which the copy must get back to the one who routed it.

You don’t say what your place is in the chain of command, but if you aren’t able to enforce procedures yourself, and if your boss is reluctant, suggest appointing a managing editor. Ultimately I’m confident that your staff will appreciate having a routine as much as you do. And all that new efficiency will leave more time for carousing at office parties.

Yours,

Carol

Do you have a question?

 

 

Going Up? Plan Ahead

                                     Photo: Alyson Hurt

A few months ago I encountered a bank of hotel elevators that made a big impression on me. This might be old hat to you,* but to me it was a wondrous invention: there were no buttons inside the elevators for choosing your floor.

Instead, you chose your floor from a panel outside the elevators. You pressed 14, and a display told you which elevator to wait for. Meanwhile someone else pressed 5 and was given a different elevator. If a conference session ended and twenty people rushed the elevators, they would each pick a floor and obediently sort themselves into little groups outside their assigned elevators.

Once inside, everyone was a little creeped out that there were no buttons for choosing a floor. “What if I picked the wrong floor?” someone asked. I had to admit I’d already done that. I’d had no choice but to get out on the wrong floor and ring for another elevator.

Over the next few days, everyone was talking about the elevators, and nearly everyone I talked to hated them. In spite of my initial detour, I loved them. If you have six elevators and thirty people going to fourteen floors, you can either let the crowd randomly and inefficiently choose the number of elevators, floors, and stops—or you can let a nifty computer algorithm minimize the number of stops each elevator makes by assigning the elevator based on floor choice. What’s not to love? Waits are short; trips are fast.

So . . . I know you can’t wait to see what cockamamie* metaphor for copyediting this inspires. It’s this: copyeditors can improve their efficiency by devising strategies before editing begins.

I’ve reviewed plenty of manuscripts where a copyeditor has gotten into deep trouble by conforming a document to house style when it doesn’t suit. A thoughtful review before barging in would have prompted doubts: is it really wise to change all book and article titles to headline casing? Will the section numbers you’re deleting be needed later?

To preview a document, look closely at any material that isn’t a straight text paragraph. Look especially at the styling of subheads, lists, bullets, tables, and captions. With regard to each element make a strategy:

—If no particular style dominates, plan on editing to house style.

—If an element is not written to house style but is clear and consistent, ask whether it can stay as is. If you have to get permission for this, your best argument (after the most obvious one of saving time) is that in changing it, you are likely to introduce errors and typos.

—If an element is in a foreign style and is sloppy and inconsistent, look over all the instances of that element and devise the most efficient remedy. Don’t assume it will be your house style.

There’s nothing more disheartening to a copyeditor than having to start over midway through a job in order to cut losses. There’s no quick button to press once you’ve committed to a bad choice. Better to make the right choices before you get on board.

______

*I’m older than you, so I get to say things like that.

 

 

Getting Freelance Work: The Essentials

 

Photo: Kathryn Decker

A couple of weeks ago I attended Ruth Thaler-Carter’s Communication Central conference in Baltimore and participated in the “Editing Summit” panel. I had been asked to speak about what my company looks for when hiring a copyeditor. Afterward, I was dismayed when a young woman approached and said, “You talked about what you didn’t want in a freelancer. Could you say something about what you do look for?”

I couldn’t blame her. Although I had started off by mentioning all the things we look for, it’s true that most of my remarks consisted of advice on how to avoid having your résumé chucked in the reject pile. The list of positives, on the other hand, was very short—perhaps I should have repeated it at the end. So for her benefit and yours, I’ll list again the most important things an applicant can offer if she wants to impress us. I would guess that they are the same elsewhere.

—Experience. From freelancers, we want to see a list of scholarly books the candidate has edited and the contact information of assigning editors.

—Skills. The cover letter and résumé should be error-free, and they should be written in Chicago style.

—Honesty. If you don’t know Chicago style, your application materials will betray you, guaranteed. Forget the clever wordplay. Write in a straightforward way, as you would to an author you are editing.

That’s it.

And if you’re curious about that long list of application turnoffs, you can read about it here.