Announcing . . .
In 2013, after a few years of writing essays here for copyeditors and writers, I stopped posting—mainly out of a fear of repeating myself. You were so good to keep coming back! I didn’t want to bore you. Meanwhile,
(The Subversive Copy Editor)
(The Subversive Copy Editor)
In 2013, after a few years of writing essays here for copyeditors and writers, I stopped posting—mainly out of a fear of repeating myself. You were so good to keep coming back! I didn’t want to bore you. Meanwhile,
You might think you can learn to copyedit by taking a class, but I promise, even if your class does a great job of exposing you to a style manual and the general practices of editing, it can only scratch the surface. To learn well, you must . . .
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. Maybe worst of all are the ones we introduce ourselves in a moment of mental vacation.
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 than that . . .)
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:
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.
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,
A couple of weeks ago I attended Ruth Thaler-Carter’s Communication Central conference in Baltimore and participated in the “Editing Summit” panel. My contribution was to speak about what we look for at the University of Chicago Press when hiring a copyeditor. Afterward, I was dismayed when a young woman approached and said “You talked about what you didn’t want in an employee. Could you say something about what you do look for?”
Have you ever been put out of a cab after you ever waited forever and finally lassoed one and got in and after sailing past a street where you would have turned (if you had been driving), said, “Shouldn’t you have turned there?” and the driver slammed to the curb and said, “You can get another cab,” leaving you incredulously asking, “What—? Are you kidding? Are you putting me out?” and, seeing his face, had to grab your things and slam the door (cab drivers hate that) and hike back four blocks to the thoroughfare and wait for another cab? Me, too.
Time and again, copyeditors ask me questions that leave me scratching my head. The question always amounts to something like this: “If I follow the rule, nonsense and chaos will result. What should I do?”