June 22, 2015

AOL: Rupert Murdoch Hands Over 'Reigns'

Recently, when Rupert Murdoch announced he'd be handing the reins of Fox over to his sons, AOL ran the headline “Rupert Murdoch plans to hand over Fox reigns to sons.”

It prompted a discussion with a fellow editor: Could the AOL headline writers argue that this was not an error? That is, could they really have meant “reigns” instead of “reins”?

Reins, as you surely know, are the parts of a horse’s bridle the rider uses to control the horse. When we talk about “handing over the reins,” it’s a reference to these reins and means to hand over steerage or control.

Reign is often a verb meaning to rule. When someone reigns supreme -- holds the most power anyone can have -- this is the “reign” we mean. Reign can also be a noun. When we refer to a king’s reign, we mean his rule, as in, “King George’s reign over his people was absolute.”

So if you, like AOL, talk about handing one of these two things over, the standard idiom calls for reins. But in theory, you could also hand over your reign. If you reign over something and you hand that off to someone else, technically, that’s what you’re doing.

But did Murdoch hand over “reigns,” plural?  In order to do so, he would need to have more than one reign -- like his reign over Fox Broadcasting and his reign over 20th Century Fox.

But, come on. To me, the focus of the news item was on his reign, singular, over all the subsidiaries of Fox. There was no reason to focus on individual units within the larger organization. So common sense dictates that the word “reins” was required in AOL’s headline. “Reigns,” by any reasonable assessment, was an error.

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June 15, 2015

Spot the Correction

Can you guess the edit I made to the following sentence?

According to the Humane Society of the United States, from 2012-13 an estimated 3 million to 4 million cats and dogs were adopted from shelters nationwide.

First off, let me say I was impressed that the writer put in the word “million” after “3.” When we speak, we say “three to four million.” But on paper, that could theoretically be construed to mean a range of single digit number, which means it could be any of 3,999,997 possible numbers. So it’s often good policy to just go ahead and write “3 million to 4 million.”

The change I made had nothing to do with that. The issue I thought needed fixing was “from 2012 13.” And it’s not just because I dislike dashes and hyphens in ranges. That is, when I see “The restaurant is open 3-5 p.m., I always change the dash or hyphen to “to,” just because I work in a world where real words are considered preferable to symbols standing in for words – at least in running text. It’s the same reason you’ll never see “The president & the senator met Tuesday.” In professional publishing, ampersands are not considered interchangeable with the word “and.” And because they’re shunned in publications that help set the standard for professional writing, they look unprofessional.

But 2012-13 is, in fact, appropriate form sometimes. When you’re talking about the 2012-13 school year, a lot of publications would have no problem writing it that way. There are a lot of other situations in which it might be appropriate, too. So that’s not why I changed it.

The real problem with “from 2012-13” is all about the “from.” The word “from” in this case requires a “to.” And not only was there no explicit “to” in the original wording. But there was when I was done with it:

... from 2012 to 2013 ...

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June 8, 2015

Passives for Weasels

Most grammar lessons are about trying to communicate more clearly – to get your message across as effectively and efficiently as possible. And that’s great for most people. But for a true weasel – dedicated con artists, sleazebags, and, of course, politicians – one grammar lesson is all you need: a lesson in passives.

With a little mastery of the passive, you can report that someone ate the last piece of cake, while conveniently failing to mention that it was you. You can heap praise onto yourself without drawing attention to the credibility of the source. And you can win an argument about just about anything as long as your opponent isn’t quick enough to get in, “Wait a minute. What’s your source on that?”

This is all true because the passive lets you say that something was done without actually saying who did it.

The grammar blogger is considered to be the greatest genius to have ever lived.

An impressive credential, provided no one asks: “Considered so by whom?” If no one’s demanding that info, no one will ever know that she is considered so only by her least-lucid grandparent.

The passive voice takes the object of an action (of a transitive verb) and makes it the grammatical subject of a sentence.

Joe at the last piece of cake = active

The last piece of cake was eaten by Joe = passive

Though both forms are grammatical and, at times, ideal, there are potential problems with the passive. The most common problem is that you lose a sense of immediacy associated with quality writing.

The benefit of passive voice is that it lets you shift the focus off the doer of the action. Notice how Joe is no longer the subject of the second sentence above. You could also cut him out of the picture altogether:

The last piece of cake was eaten.

The car was totaled.

The bank account was emptied.

No telling who did it. So avoid the passive voice except when you want to emphasize the action over the doer of the action or anytime you want to avoid telling the whole truth.

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June 1, 2015

Our Troubled System for Forming Possessives

Throughout history, many people have tried to force changes to the English language.

Sometimes they crusade against a misuse or a perceived misuse, like the self-appointed Wikipedia editor who has changed more than 47,000 instances of "comprised of" to "composed of" in Wikipedia articles. Other times they try to fix what they perceive as an error in the language, like its lack of a gender-neutral pronoun, for which people have proposed over 100 suggestions.

It never makes a difference. "Comprised of" continues to march toward respectability at roughly the same pace it was before, the plural pronoun "they" continues to gain slow acceptance as a singular in sentences like Every visitor should make note of where they parked.

But in more candid moments, I'll confess that I can relate. Sometimes it's just not easy to let go of language "problems" -- you just want to do something.

If it were possible to forcibly do anything to the language, my personal crusade would begin and end with how we form possessives: The whole apostrophe-plus-S thing is, in my opinion, a catastrophe.

For one thing, S is the same letter we use to form plurals. One cat, two cats. So possessive cat's is far from ideal.

For another, the rules are inconsistent. You use an S after the apostrophe to form the possessive of most singular nouns: the cat's tail. But you don't add an S when you make a possessive out of most plurals: the cats' tails.

You could argue that that system makes sense because there's already an S there. But some plurals don't end in S: The children's menu. Some singulars do end in S: James's car/James' car. (I wrote that two different ways because both are correct. In Chicago style,  it's James's car. In AP style it's James' car. (And there are more exceptions to the rules that I won't even get into.)

So the rules for forming plural possessives are a mess.

Finally, the apostrophe combined with S just happens to be the exact same way we create the most common contraction in English: the contracted form of the verb "is": He's a nice guy. The cat's outside. Mike's here.

Is it any wonder people screw up apostrophes so often?

If I had to propose a solution, I'd say to use some completely unrelated syllable to form the possessive -- preferably one that both begins and ends with a consonant, like "dat": I borrowed Mikedat car. Did you meet Suedat husband? Can we see the childrendat menu?

Of course, there could be some terrible flaw in this plan that I'm not seeing -- that's so often the case. But it doesn't matter because, as history will prove, no one cares about Junedat idea anyway.

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May 25, 2015

A Reminder About Commas

Here’s a reminder some people could probably use: When you have a comma before a year, state, or “Inc.,” you need a comma after it.

Wrong: The picnic will be held on March 14, 2015 on the great lawn.

Right: The picnic will be held on March 14, 2015, on the great lawn.

Wrong: The new complex in Austin, Texas will have a fitness center.

Right: The new complex in Austin, Texas, will have a fitness center.

Wrong: Jameson founded WidgetWiz, Inc. in 1970.

Right: Jameson founded WidgetWiz, Inc., in 1970.

Also right: Jameson founded WidgetWiz Inc. in 1970.

Also right: Jameson founded WidgetWiz in 1970.

In these situations, writers seem to get commas wrong more often than they get them right. People probably figure, and logically so, that the first comma is part of the larger term – almost like part of a name: March 14, 2015.

But in fact the comma is there to set off what’s called “parenthetical information.” That’s when commas work in pairs: Her husband, Tim, will attend the meeting. See how the name is sort of supplemental? Well, that’s how states after cities, years after dates, and Inc. after company names are treated, too. They’re extra info (like this parenthetical, which is actually in parentheses). In fact, these commas are a milder form of parentheses in these cases: Austin (which is in Texas). WidgetWiz (which is incorporated). March 14 (this coming March 14).

Yes, those commas around “Inc.” are optional, as is “Inc.” itself in most publishing styles. But the point is that, if you use a comma before, you need one after, unless of course it’s at the end of a sentence, where the one period is all you need: Jameson founded WidgetWiz Inc.”

And the good news is that often you don't need these bits of parenthetical info anyway. When should you include a state after a city, a year after a specific date, or an “Inc.” after a company name?

The answer, oversimplified, is: only when it’s necessary. News media usually don’t include years for dates in the past 12 months or the next 12 months. So a speech that took place 11 months ago would say the date only, “The president spoke on Nov. 1 to Congress.” That’s because events, in news media, are presumed to mean the most recent occurrence of that date unless specified otherwise: “The president spoke on Nov. 1, 2009, to congress.”

Ditto that for upcoming dates. If it’s happening in next 364 days, no need to state the year: “The concert will take place July 18.” And that’s true even if you’re writing about it in November of 2014 but it doesn’t happen till 2015. That will, in fact, be the next July. So no need to mention the year.

 “Inc.” and other legal designations after company names are less necessary that a lot of writers realize. Sure, the company might like you to write their name exactly as they say. But unless you’re working for them, you don’t have to. The New York Times talks about Coca-Cola and Apple and General Motors without mentioning their incorporation status – or including ugly registered or trademark symbols. If they can, so can you.

As for state names after city names: Have you ever noticed a sentence like this? “The meeting will be held in Austin, Texas, which is a change from previous years in which it was held in Atlanta.” That is, have you noticed how sometimes states are included after city names and other times they’re not? That's because a lot of publications designate certain cities as “standalone cities.” They’re the big ones – New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, Dallas, San Francisco, London, Paris, and so on – chosen because they’re immediately known to most readers with no mention of the state or country needed. These standalone cities pre-designated, for consistency’s sake. You can find a list of them in the AP Stylebook if you want a guideline. And the system works out really well, when you think about it: If you mention Paris without France, readers correctly assume you mean Paris, France, and not Paris, Texas.

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May 18, 2015

My Favorite Dangler

Danglers, as we’ve discussed here before, are modifying phrases that aren’t placed close enough to the noun they’re supposed to be modifying. Like "Walking on the beach, my shoulders got sunburned.” This is considered a dangler because shoulders don’t walk, though the juxtaposition of “walking” and “shoulders” makes it look like they do.

To play it safe, always make sure that the noun nearest to your modifying phrase is the one actually being modified: “Walking down the beach, I got a sunburn on my shoulders.”

Some danglers aren’t a real problem – at least not in terms of reader comprehension. Funny as it was to infer that my shoulders could walk, no one who read that sentence would have taken it that way.

Other danglers can pose a serious problem for comprehension: “Drawing his last breath, Curly laughed as his bullet lodged between Tex’s eyes.” Wait, was Curly dying? Or was it Tex? Maybe both? The reader deserves to know, and it's the writer's job to make it immediately clear.

But still other danglers are just good fun, none more so than the ones that start with “As a child.”

“As a child, Sally’s father used to punish her for her irreverence.”

I picture Sally’s dad not long out of diapers, marching around a bossing a little girl he could not possibly have yet fathered. So, yeah, sometimes danglers are just good fun.

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May 11, 2015

The 'Comprised Of' Crusade

In honor of Bryan Henderson, the guy who went into Wikipedia and deleted 47,000 instances of the phrase comprised of, replacing them with composed of or other alternative wording, here’s a refresher about the difference between compose and comprise.

In their main definitions, comprise means to contain or include, while compose means to make up something. So our team comprises 20 players and those players compose the team. If that last one sounds a little odd it’s because compose is often used in the passive: The team is composed of 20 players.

You can see how this gets confusing. Compose and comprise are both standard when the whole thing (the team) is the subject of the sentence: The team comprises. The team is composed of. Pretty easy to combine the two in The team is comprised of.

In Chicago and AP style, that’s an error.  Comprised pretty much never lends itself to this passive formation is comprised of. In the real world, though, it’s allowed. Look up comprise in Merriam-Webster’s and you’ll see it is sometimes a synonym of compose. Merriam-Webster’s even cites the following as an example of its usage: “About 8 percent of our military forces are comprised of women.”

So if you think Henderson’s quest is a little, um, interesting -- I’m with you.

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May 4, 2015

That and Which

Here’s everything you need to know about the difference between “that” and “which.”

1. 1. You don’t need to know anything about the difference between “that” and “which.” Though in Chicago and AP editing styles, there’s an important distinction, it doesn’t really apply outside of professional publishing. Unless you specifically want to comply with those styles, whatever use comes naturally is fine.
2. If you do want to follow those styles, here’s the difference: “that” is for restrictive clauses and “which” is for nonrestrictive clauses.
3. Also, if you want to follow those styles, you need to understand the difference between restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses. A restrictive clause, as the name suggests, actually “restricts” a noun. That means it adds specificity. The car that I was driving was blue. Here, the clause “that I was driving” specifies which car I’m talking about. It narrows down what could have been meant by “the car,” which is broader, to “the car that I was driving,” which points more clearly to one specific car. “Which," in these editing styles, is for nonrestrictive clauses. The information introduced by "which" could be lifted right out of the sentence with no loss of specificity and without damaging the sentence structure or meaning. “Which” clauses are set off which commas, making it clearer this is just extra information: The car, which I was driving, was red.  See how the stuff about me driving is inserted as a sort of “by the way”? That makes it clear that you’re already supposed to know which car I’m talking about with“ the car.” You can't do that with a restrictive clause: Any cat that I would adopt must be over one year old. Take out the “that” clause and what are you left with? Nonsense: Any cat must be over one year old. This illustrates how restrictive clauses are, in theory, essential to the sentence’s meaning and the specificity of the noun.

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April 27, 2015

Deleting 'And' at the Beginning of Sentences*

Any discussion about starting sentences with “and” should begin by emphasizing that there’s no rule against doing so. A lot of people will tell you there is, but they’re misinformed. You can start a sentence with any conjunction including "and," “but,” and “so,” provided it makes sense.

I start lots of sentences with the word “and.” It’s how I think. One idea follows from the last, and the “ands” just pour out. But that’s when I’m writing. As an editor, I hack off at least nine out of 10 sentence-starting “ands” that cross my desk. And here’s why.

Especially in traditional news media, the more efficiently you can express an idea, the more professional the writing appears. Compare any school paper written by your college-age nephew to any article from a top news source and you’ll see what I mean.

“Economy of words” is favored because it’s clearer. But it’s also favored because it’s favored. A highly efficient style is a hallmark of certain big boys of the publishing world. So anything else comes off as not as good.

That's why, when you delete an “and” at the beginning of a sentence, the effect is often dramatic and immediate: The writing just seems more professional.

I do leave some sentence-starting "ands," though – the ones that, when I take them out, leave the passage somehow worse off than it was before. But those are the exception. As a rule, when I see an “and” at the beginning of a sentence, I take it out.

And so it goes.

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April 20, 2015

Burying the Lead

Not long ago, I edited an article about a researcher at a large university. The article started by talking about his exact relationship to the university – how he’s chair of this and professor of that. Then it said that the two institutes within the university of which this researcher is a part have a shared mission of healthcare innovation and, “in keeping with those two objectives,” he is developing a new technology for creating living tissue that will be used mainly for testing pharmaceuticals. Then the article talked a bit about how this tissue creation occurs, through advances in 3-D printing, then it talked about how previous generation 3-D printers had limited abilities and couldn’t do the tissue creation thing.

Then, in the third-to-last paragraph, it mentioned that he and his team had printed an artificial cornea and blood vessels and, oh, by the way, he just got a grant to develop a manufacturing process for human heart tissue.

Or, as I would put it: He made a !@$#!! cornea, !@$#!! blood vessels and is working on manufacturing !@$#!! !@$#!! !@$#!! human heart tissue.

There’s a term for this, ladies and gentlemen. It’s called burying the lead. And here’s how it happens: A writer assigned a story about such-and-such starts talking to Mr. So-and-So and gets all the background and the basics and what fellowship the guy holds and where, then they start talking about his work. Then they start talking about the fruits of his work. Then the reporter fails to register the jaw-dropping fact that this man is making hearts and eyeballs. Instead, the writer just regurgitates the information in the same basic format as the one in which it was laid out to him.

It’s like the old Nora Ephron story about how when she was in high school, her journalism class was asked to write a lead for a story about some school board bigwig who oversees such-and-such and is holding a faculty meeting on Tuesday to discuss whoseits and whatnot. All the students wrote leads incorporating those events and the visiting dignitaries' name. None of the students wrote the lead the teacher was looking for, which was: There will be no school on Tuesday.

The lesson here: Always home in on the piece of information that’s most interesting or pertinent for the reader and weight it accordingly. It’s what good writers do.

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