I keep trying to remind myself that this is what bluelines are for. Or, as trusted colleague Jennifer Glossop has wisely said, “If it doesn’t make it into print, it doesn’t count.”
Last spring Mark Allen asked those of us who’d been guests on That Word Chat to contribute door prizes for the annual Freelancers Happy Hour in conjunction with the ACES: The Society for Editing national conference.
My contributions were:
The winner of the cartoon was Vee White, and when I contacted them to discuss ideas, they told me about an international plagiarism survey they and Andrea Klingler conducted on a sample of editors, writers, and publishers who work with English-language content.
They’re working on compiling the results, but attitudes toward plagiarism apparently span a spectrum from believing plagiarism is no big deal to, well, the (over)reaction you see here.
(In case you don’t Know Your Meme. Here’s the blank if you’d like to make your own.)
Frances Peck said it best in Peck’s English Pointers:
A sentence should contain no unnecessary commas for the same reason that a symphony should have no unnecessary pauses. True, commas add rhythm, and more importantly clarity, to our writing. But, if we use too many, of them, our writing becomes difficult, for people, to read, and our ideas end up fragmented, instead of connected.
For years participants in my grammar and writing workshops have magnanimously imparted their golden rule for commas: use a comma whenever you would take a breath. And for years I have regretfully but pointedly burst their bubble. That simple rule, which so many have clung to since their tender years, works occasionally (even often, if you’re a speechwriter or playwright), but it also gives rise to the superfluous commas that pollute our prose, bobbing up disconcertingly like plastic bottles in the ocean.