Posts in category: Style on the Go archive

October 19, 2006: Issue 161

Want to hear some atrocious grammar? Flip on your radio or your iPod.

“Them other boys, they don’t know how to act,” Justin Timberlake sings in “SexyBack.”

“If I lay here, if I just lay here, would you lie with me and just forget the world?” Gary Lightbody asks in Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars.”

Our eyes are twitching over here in CE Land. While we can’t do anything about Justin and Snow Patrol, we can clean up grammar in quotes from homeowners and professionals. Our style is to fix tense, case, and number so that sentences inside quotation marks are grammatically correct.

exact quote: “So I find this house by accident, and then I just couldn’t get it out of my head.”
cleaned up: “So I find this house by accident, and then I just can’t get it out of my head.”
cleaned up: “So I found this house by accident, and then I just couldn’t get it out of my head.”

exact quote: “The architect left that decision up to Miguel and I.”
cleaned up: “The architect left that decision up to Miguel and me.”

exact quote: “That group of three of us have weighed in together for 12 years.”
cleaned up: “That group of three of us has weighed in together for 12 years.”
cleaned up: “Three of us have weighed in together for 12 years.”

The speaker’s voice is still there, and we’re not changing vocabulary. We’ve just made the speaker sound good—we’d want someone to do the same for us.

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October 12, 2006: Issue 160

Watch out for modifiers that repeat information specified by other words in the sentence.

redundant:
The end result was a brighter, roomier kitchen.
Neighbors from the surrounding area applauded the renovation.
A new two-story addition gave the kids a playroom and their parents a master suite.
She tried three different reds before she settled on one with a hint of orange.

tightened:
The result was a brighter, roomier kitchen.
Neighbors applauded the renovation.
A two-story addition gave the kids a playroom and their parents a master suite.
She tried three reds before she settled on one with a hint of orange.

ON SIM STYLEBOOK.COM: Find a list of redundant words and phrases.

ROUTING TIP: Never make changes to a file unless you have the routing slip. Don’t worry about what folder the file is in—whether it’s in a folder marked “at CEs,” for instance. All you need to know is whether you have that routing slip. If you need emergency access to a file that’s been routed to the copy desk, talk to a copy editor about getting the file (and the routing slip) back. You’ll spend a few minutes, but please understand that if you alter a file when you don’t have the routing slip, you’ll spend far longer trying to clear up the confusion of duplicate files, overwritten files, or mismatched files and printouts.

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September 28, 2006: Issue 158

Be careful where you put the word “square” when giving dimensions. There’s a difference between “square feet” and “feet square.”

“Square feet” refers to the total area of a space, or its length times its width. “Feet square” refers to the length of each individual side.

A 10×10-foot room is 10 feet square, but 100 square feet.

CHANGE OF ADDRESS: Our satellite in box has moved. It’s in the cubicle next to Heather Knowles’ office. (And if you haven’t found the CEs’ new home, we’re at the south end of the floor, just off the skywalk.)

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September 21, 2006: Issue 157

As we struggle with the chaos of relocation this week, we know you don’t need a stern grammar lesson. You need swear words you can use at work.

So here you go—a list of terms that sound like profanities but aren’t:

chuff: (v.) to exhale noisily
damnum: (n.) detriment
Damoclean: (adj.) involving imminent danger
fartlek: (n.) training run at a varied pace
feck: (n.) majority
fubsy: (adj.) chubby and squat
fucus: (n.) brown algae (rhymes with mucus)
fug: (n.) stuffy atmosphere
futtock: (n.) ship timber
pisk: (n.) nighthawk
puckfist: (n.) braggart
puckster: (n.) ice hockey player
schist: (n.) crystalline rock
shitepoke: (n.) heron
shittle: (n.) shuttle
vug: (n.) small cave
wangle: (v.) to manipulate or trick

Let fly. And remember, the feck of this Damoclean move will be finished soon.

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September 14, 2006: Issue 156

“Long-term” and “short-term” are hyphenated as adjectives:
This is just a short-term solution.
You’ll need a better long-term plan.

Don’t use a hyphen when they’re nouns:
This solution is for the short term.
You’ll need a better plan for the long term.

ROUTING TIP: When you route layouts to copy editors, make sure the proofs are clean and current. If a proof doesn’t match an electronic file, we’ll send it back to you. This rule serves everyone’s best interest. Last-minute changes are the most likely places for errors to occur, and those are the very blocks of text we won’t see if we read outdated proofs. When you make a change in text after final proof, route that layout back to CEs for a spot-check.

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September 7, 2006: Issue 155

At considerable risk to our own job security, we’re going to try to explain an issue that has long confounded writers and editors: “lie” versus “lay.”

To get this one right, you need to follow two simple steps:

1. Learn the difference between “lie” and “lay” in the present tense.

“Lie” means “to rest” or “to recline.” It is an intransitive verb, which means it never takes a direct object.
The book is lying on the desk.
I need to lie down for a few minutes.
Weight the corners so the paper lies flat.

“Lay” means “to put” or “to place.” It’s a transitive verb, which means it needs a direct object.
Lay the book on the desk, please. (object: book)
She’s laying four aces on the table. (object: aces)
We need someplace to lay the blame. (object: blame)

2. Memorize these six syllables: lie-lay-lain, lay-laid-laid.

The past tense of “lie” is “lay.”
The book lay on the desk all day yesterday.

The past participle of “lie” is “lain.”
It has lain there for weeks.

See where the confusion starts? There’s overlap between the present and past tenses of these two distinct words.

The past tense of “lay” is “laid.”
I laid the book on the table this morning.

The past participle of “lay” is also “laid.”
I’ve laid it there every morning this week.

We hope this helps. And if you’re still confused, remember: You’re keeping a copy editor employed.

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August 31, 2006: Issue 154

“It got this far; it must be right.”

There’s an assumption guaranteed to cause trouble.

No matter how far along a story is—final proof, even color proof—question something that doesn’t feel right. A last-minute change might have introduced an error, or a mistake might have slipped past everyone ahead of you. There’s a reason our system calls for multiple edits, so go ahead and ask the question. It beats the heck out of asking yourself later, Why didn’t I check?

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August 24, 2006: Issue 153

Use reflexive pronouns (myself, herself, yourself) only when the pronoun matches the subject of the sentence:
correct: Ouch, I just cut myself with this crafts knife.
correct: Gina hired a contractor to strip and sand the floors, then stained them herself.
correct: Try it for yourself.
(Note that in the last example, the subject of the sentence is an understood “you.”)

“Myself” causes particular problems. It’s often substituted inexplicably for the word “me,” particularly by writers and speakers who want to sound formal.
incorrect: If you have questions, talk to Bob or myself.
correct: If you have questions, talk to Bob or me.

Remember that a reflexive pronoun can’t be the subject of a sentence.
incorrect: Aisha and myself are working on that report.
correct: Aisha and I are working on that report.

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August 17, 2006: Issue 152

You have a backside, but your house doesn’t. Neither does your sofa or that quilt you’re making. They, like all other inanimate objects, have back sides. Use the single word “backside” only when you mean “buttocks.”
incorrect: Limestone pilasters repeat on the backside of the house.
correct: Limestone pilasters repeat on the back side of the house.
correct: Get your backside in gear and finish proofreading that layout, missy!

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August 10, 2006: Issue 151

A dilemma is a choice between two unpleasant options.

When your designer says you have to decide between mahogany and Italian marble for your new floors, you’re faced with a simple choice, not a dilemma.

When you’re stranded on an uncharted island with a bunch of nasty monsters, a mysterious electromagnetic field, and a creepy band of murderers, and the murderers kidnap your son, and the only way you can get the boy back is by sending some of your fellow castaways straight into the creepy people’s trap—lose your child or sacrifice your friends—that’s a dilemma.

Open this PDF for a special illustrated version of this issue.

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