On Not Having an Editor for This Blog

In my blogger role here, I write on the Internet, I write when and as often as I want, about what I want, with no word limit, and -- most crucially for my point today -- I don’t have an editor. All of these factors provide me the great luxury of writing what I want, without worrying about limits, especially from an editor. When I write for academic venues -- mainly journals, books, and book chapters -- I always have to keep in mind what my editor(s) (along with peer reviewers of my submitted manuscripts) will think and say about what I write. So there is a delightful freedom when writing on this blog. But the flip side of that freedom is that there is no checkpoint, no one to flag errors, clichés, infelicities, repetitions, omissions, illogical conclusions, and just plain embarrassing writing. There is no one who, with her or his responses and suggestions, will push me to rethink and revise, and who will make me a better writer. I am flying solo, for better or for worse. Luckily the stakes are low; blogs, after all, are (except for those by prominent/famous people with huge readerships) generally not high profile, and mine is no exception. So while I would surely benefit from an editor, the freedom, spontaneity, immediacy, and lack of constraints are counterbalances to the disadvantages, as well as counterbalances to my experiences with scholarly writing. I like having both kinds of writing and experiences. I do want to note that I definitely want and value editors when I am doing academic writing and publishing. I also want to note that I have been very fortunate in the editors I have worked with over the years (too many to list here, but special thanks to Naomi and to Kelly, who edited my books). So this is in no way a denigration of editors, but simply a celebration of a certain kind of low-risk freedom, in my little corner of the vast Internet, to write about something I love without worrying too much about whether it is up to anyone else’s standards (except, of course, those of the readers of the blog, whom I do hope to please, and who have been remarkably generous in their responses).

On grammar, punctuation, style, and versions of English

Readers may remember my occasionally writing about issues of grammar, punctuation, and style (see, for example, my posts of 10/16/10, 3/11/12, and 3/19/13). These are interests of mine, not only because I love to read, and read widely, but also because much of my professional/academic work is in language and linguistics. Two recent articles on related topics caught my eye. Mary Norris’s New Yorker article in the February 23 and March 2, 2015 issue, “Holy Writ,” is “personal history” about her years as copy editor for that magazine. Her first sentence, “I didn’t set out to be a comma queen,” caught my attention, and I was thoroughly drawn in by her story of her intertwined loves for New York City, The New Yorker, and grammar and style. She goes into particular detail about the role of commas, which to me is always a fascinating topic. (I am also way too fascinated by semi-colons. Am I a punctuation nerd?) The second article, a briefer one, is “Mind the Gap,” by Sophie Gilbert, in the March 2015 issue of The Atlantic. This piece explores the decisions that magazines and newspapers with international editions and readerships are having to make regarding which brand of English to use: American or British. (I won't go into this now, but this dual choice begs the question of other versions of English around the world, known in my field as World Englishes.) The author starts by reminding us of various vocabulary terms that differ in these two versions of English, including some that can be embarrassing if used in contexts where others don’t understand them. One newspaper struggling with these differences is the Guardian, a (terrific, in my opinion, based on occasional reading it online, especially their literature pages) British newspaper that started an online version called Guardian US. Should editors enforce an “all British English” policy, or an “all American English” policy? Or neither? After much discussion, they chose to let American writers use American English, and British writers use British English, with exceptions for spellings of proper nouns, which must reflect the locale being written about (so, “no more Lincoln Centre or Labour Day”). The British magazine The Economist made a different decision. Although 52 percent of its circulation is American (a fact that surprised me), the magazine preserves all British spelling and usage, noting that American readers seem to enjoy that British quality in the magazine. I enjoyed hearing this latter detail, because it speaks to the existence of many American Anglophiles such as myself. (I come to my love of most things English – although I also have conflicted feelings about it because of colonial history – by way of my being born Canadian, growing up in barely postcolonial India, and reading scores of British novels over the years.) This issue of “which English” to use in international media is a perhaps small but certainly telling issue in the increasingly global world of many publications.

Turn-Taking in Email Correspondence

Recently I was thinking about “turn-taking” in email correspondence among colleagues or friends. (I am not talking about business correspondence here). After all, email is a kind of reading and writing that most of us do daily. Linguists talk about “turn-taking” in spoken conversation, which involves the ways in which people decide (mostly unconsciously) when it is time for one person to stop talking and another to start. Much has been written about how and when this is done, how it is different in different cultures, how it differs by gender, what happens when someone speaks when it isn’t his or her turn, and much more. Here I write about my own feelings as I decide if, when and how quickly to reply to an email. Obviously if it is a mass mail, or spam, I don’t answer, but otherwise I generally do. If it is a simple query, I try to answer immediately. If it will require my checking something or finding some information, or further thought, I make a note to myself and answer within a day or two if possible. If it is a personal email from a colleague or friend just keeping in touch or sharing news, I also usually answer within a day or two or three. A question arises, though, when a friend and I have the kind of relationship and correspondence that takes place either sporadically, or at widely spaced intervals (maybe every month or two or more, for example). If I answer immediately, am I violating our unspoken agreement regarding frequency? Usually, though, there is an email, an answer, and THEN a break of a month or more. But sometimes the answerer asks a new question, or provides news that seems to require a response, and then I want to answer the question or to comment on the news (congratulations, condolences, etc.), so I add a third “turn.” Is the other person expected to reply to that third email? Or, if I am the one who receives the third turn, should I reply? Sometimes the solution is that the last email becomes very brief, signalling the end of the current round of correspondence (e.g., “Thanks, I appreciate that!” or “That’s great to hear!”). The crux of the matter is that at some point, someone has to stop the exchange, whether for a few days or weeks or months, and the other person has to feel OK about it. No one wants to feel they are pushing the other person into more frequent correspondence than they want or than is appropriate at their level of acquaintance or friendship, but they also don’t want the other person to feel one has suddenly gone silent on them, or to think one is being rude or neglectful. Fortunately all this is usually intuited unconsciously, and doesn’t take as much thought as I am giving it here; we can usually “feel” when the timing is right. But there are occasional hiccups or mismatches. Who hasn’t ever wondered “Should I reply to this email right away, or wait a while?” or felt “I wonder why XXX didn’t answer my last email”? (I don’t think I am the only one!)

Does the Space Make a Difference?

I have always believed that punctuation makes a difference and has significance. But a difference I hadn’t thought about until fairly recently was whether to leave one or two spaces after a period. I grew up learning, in my high school typing class and elsewhere, to leave two spaces, and I never questioned that. It became absolutely automatic for me. But more and more I have realized that now the standard is one space. The point that jolted me was in a recent article about job applications that stated that for older applicants, leaving two spaces after periods can be a signal of their age, and by proxy, a sort of sign of being outdated or behind the times. I am fortunate not to have to apply for jobs, but I still don’t want to be thought of as behind the times! So I have been trying to remember this, and now I often go back through something I have written to delete one of the two spaces. I actually had to do it for this very blogpost. Such a small matter to be fraught with such possible significance!

"Because You Have To: A Writing Life," by Joan Frank

In her new book, “Because You Have To: A Writing Life” (University of Notre Dame Press, 2012), Joan Frank gives readers a sense of what it is really like to be a serious writer. This is not a “how-to” book, but rather one that speaks candidly, even painfully, about trying to wrest enough time free to write, dealing with rejection, reading and learning from the work of other writers (she quotes the great writer William Maxwell as saying “All I ask of life is the privilege of being able to read”), dealing with envy, being a reviewer, going on writer’s retreats at writing colonies, trying to balance writing with family as well as with the work that pays the bills, and more. Frank is generous in sharing her own experiences, feelings, fears, and ups and downs over the course of her long writing life. She is particularly eloquent on how important it is for writers to have stretches of uninterrupted time, and on how hard it is for many – perhaps most – writers to find this time. She also writes about the joy of writing when things are going well. And, as the title says, she advises that if you feel you have to write, then you must find a way. Because I have read, liked, and posted on all five of Frank’s books of fiction (see my posts of 7/6/10, 7/11/10, 12/31/10, and 4/9/12); because she lives in, and sets much of her fiction in, Northern California, settings very close and familiar to me; and because she sometimes reviews books for my local paper, the San Francisco Chronicle, I feel quite connected to her work. This new nonfiction book gives me more insight into her writing and the writing life. It is a slim book (just 200 pages), and an absorbing one. Anyone who is a writer or who wants to be one, as well as anyone who loves reading, will enjoy and learn from this book.

The Perils of Self-Publishing

It is great that nowadays anyone can publish a book through self-publishing/”vanity” presses. Writers with little or no chance of book contracts with regular publishers can now write about their experiences, express their feelings, exercise their creativity, and see their names and words in print. Self-published books are especially good for those who mainly want to share their writing with family and friends. And some of them are quite respectably well written and produced. (Full disclosure: Some years ago, two colleagues/friends and I edited the self-published memoir of our late academic mentor and friend.) But there are often serious problems with self-publishing as well. Books definitely suffer without the editorial and marketing support provided by a traditional publisher. A huge negative is the lack of editing. I was reminded of this recently while reading a self-published memoir (which shall remain nameless) that was so badly written as to be almost incoherent in places. The author was obviously passionate about his topic -- a certain aspect of his life story -- and that angry, betrayed feeling came through loud and clear. But the writing was terrible in so many ways. It was disorganized, illogical, and ungrammatical. Words were misspelled and misused. It sounded as if the writer had sat down and spewed out a long rant, and then never revised or edited it in any way. I wish for his own sake that the author had hired an editor, or at least asked a literate friend to help him edit the book. Reading this book was a painful process; I only persevered because the book was useful for my research.

"Voice" in Student Writing

The concept of “voice” is somewhat controversial in academic circles. Here I put that controversy aside to share my experiences with “voice” in my students’ writing. We are aware of voice in the writing of well-known authors. But it is much harder to discern, naturally, in that of amateur writers, especially students. Most students take a while to develop distinctive voices, and often produce a high proportion of pedestrian, unoriginal writing. But over time, whether in academic or creative writing, they gradually develop, or uncover, their own idiosyncratic and particular ways of expressing themselves. It is such a pleasure to see their imaginations at work, to read an unusual turn of phrase, or to note a sense of humor or a unique perspective. When this happens, something exciting occurs: the student’s voice calls out to the reader in a specific way that only that student could enact. What a joy that is for the reader!

Gratitude for My Colleagues Who Read My Drafts

We often hear about how great writers write multiple drafts, and get feedback from their editors, colleagues, friends, spouses, and others. Here I want to point out that far humbler writers, such as myself, benefit greatly from the same process as well: writing many drafts, and getting constructive criticism from colleagues and friends. I want to thank the colleagues/friends in my field who read my drafts and give me such helpful suggestions. It happens that right now two of my colleagues, one local and one not, are reading a draft of a chapter I am writing, and I thank them very much for it. Their input will make a difference; they help me to be a better writer. I wish for every writer such helpful colleagues and friends!

The Joys of a New Pad of Paper

Upon acquiring a new legal pad the other day, to use for one of my academic projects, I had a sudden flash of memory of my first grade classroom. The teacher would hand out pieces of lined paper as needed, but one could also buy from the school one’s own pad of paper. I remember asking my mother if I could do that, her agreeing, and my then receiving my very own full pad of paper. What infinite riches that pad represented! Perhaps a hundred pages of fresh, clean, lined paper, all mine! I could fill those pages any way I wanted to! What joy! I can still remember the visceral pleasure of that moment. Hundreds of legal pads and notebooks later, I still occasionally get a flash of that same pleasure when I get a new pad or a new blank notebook. Each one is a clean slate, a new start, a new opportunity, a glimpse into the unknown future in which I will write something -- maybe something wonderful! -- on those so far unsullied pages. Hurray for the simple pleasures of life!

Writing Colonies

I wrote on 2/16/11 about unusual places that some writers write, such as a remote island. Most are more conventional, writing in home studies, at dining room tables, in university offices, in libraries, or in coffeehouses. But some writers are fortunate enough to be given, for a few days or weeks, the opportunity to write at various writers’ colonies. Some of the most famous ones, entrance to which is of course very competitive, are Yaddo, Macdowell, Bellagio (on Lake Como!), Ucross, Hedgebrook, Dorland Mountain, and the Virgina Center for Creative Arts. Most of these colonies are set in physically beautiful surroundings, which provide inspiration and a sense of well-being. Writers are given quiet, comfortable places to write, with all meals and other needs provided. They may stay for as little as a week or as much as several weeks. Even if one is not fortunate or well known enough to be accepted to one of these, some writers have access to shorter stays at conference centers or other sites that provide congenial and quiet spaces for writing. For example, some universities, such as my own, sponsor weekend writing retreats; I have participated in several of these. It is amazing how much writing can get done in a weekend in which one’s complete focus is on writing. And there is always the self-constructed writing retreat; for example, my colleague P. and I have created two three-to-four-day writing retreats in the beautiful city where she lives. We focused on writing all day, and then had delicious dinners and talked about what we were writing and how it was going, providing each other with advice and encouragement. The key to all of these colonies and retreats is having the luxury of a good place and uninterrupted time to write.

Teacher, Practice What You Preach!

Among other things, I teach writing. I teach my students about the writing process, including all the things writers sometimes do on the way to a finished product. These can include reading, thinking, discussing ideas with others, brainstorming, freewriting, jotting down notes, outlining, drafting, getting feedback on early drafts from others, redrafting, and more. I firmly believe in this process, yet when I am doing my own writing projects, I sometimes have to remind myself to “practice what I preach,” or in this case, “practice what I teach.” I have recently been stuck on getting started on a certain piece that I have committed to write, casting about for how to focus the piece. A few days ago I decided to try the exercise of freewriting, which involves simply writing freely about a topic, without thinking too much, without worrying about logic or felicity, and most of all, without stopping. As I say to my students, “Just keep that pen moving!” It is a kind of priming of the pump; the idea is that the very act of writing freely and without prior plan or structure will bring ideas to the surface that one can then mine for use in the writing project. Although I often have my students do this exercise, I almost never do it myself. Well, sure enough, as I was writing away, letting words flow onto the page in an unregulated stream, my ideas started to take shape, and I began to see a way out of my tangle and block. And then as my focus became clearer, I started to get excited about the potential of the piece. When I finally stopped and read over what I had written, I could focus and organize the ideas I found there. I am still a long, long way from a finished piece, but now I know where I am going with it, and more or less how I will get there, which makes all the difference. I am happy about this, of course, and also slightly sheepish about the fact that I had forgotten or neglected this useful strategy that I blithely teach my students but tend to ignore in my own writing; I should listen to myself more often!