Oh how I wish you could edit Substack to eliminate the end-note formatting (if that is indeed the proper terminology). Having to scroll up and down to read the notes drives me batty.
And also, if hovering the cursor doesn't work for your browser for some reason, clicking on the footnote number will bring you right there; from the footnote you can either click on the number again or use the browser back function to get back to where the footnote was referenced.
It can take a while to really recognize who’s the dog and who’s the tail in the copyediting process, but if you want to be a copy editor anyone’s actually going to hire, you better learn that lesson pdq.
As usual, the footnotes were as entertaining as the body was educational.
In footnote 1, I learned a new terminology for mixed cases. (Dromedary! Aha!)
Back to the text for a moment, I was impressed by the split infinitive you provided:
"to—as I often say—do" .
Footnote 5: I am in agreement with the need for more statesmen.
Footnote 7 made me wonder: in the good old days, did you actually have to erase what you wrote? Couldn't you line through or color over the errors with the writing end of your instrument? Or is it that you would rather leave no evidence?
I look forward to parts 2 et seq. And to your on-line seminar as well.
Re the erasure process: You really did have to dispose of things you didn’t want authors to see, because they were going to be receiving your actual set of pages (a xerox or two would be retained in house, of course). And the pages were expected to look authoritative, not anarchic. I suppose that one might have reached for a bottle of Wite-Out, but good luck trying to write new notes over a Wite-Out splotch.
I’m glad you enjoyed this first installment. This could certainly go on and on, and quite possibly it will. And I’m glad to know you’ll be at the online seminar!
Small change in plans -- now that I've seen the cost of the seminar I have deferred a decision till later this month. I'd really like to do it and will if I can.
I once noted to an author that she seemed to insert commas almost randomly. "Yes," she agreed with a touch too much delight, "I toss them in like little ninja stars."
“Noon dinner” gives a strong Sunday vibe to me, since in my 50s childhood that was the one day of the week the main meal was invariably the midday meal. When my grandfather was dairy farming and not working as a carpenter, “dinner” was always midday; but when he started construction work, he hired people to milk for him, and the evening meal was the main meal, except for Sunday. I think the same pattern held for my father’s family in the 1940s. At home when I was a child, we had the main meal in the evening, except for Sunday, because my father had an office job and we kids were in school.
Camel Case is also recommended when writing hashtags, as it makes them easier to read (especially for people with low vision or dyslexia). It also helps screen readers sound out the hashtags without them sounding garbled.
I'm a week late here, but Footnote 1 prompts me to comment. In my programming days, we called the first form PascalCase, from the variable-naming convention in the Pascal programming language, and the second form camelCase, from the hump in the middle. Wikipedia suggests that's a Microsoft-specific convention, so it's possible I picked it up in my decade there, but I'd have thought it originated much earlier. Pascal dates back to 1970.
Oh how I wish you could edit Substack to eliminate the end-note formatting (if that is indeed the proper terminology). Having to scroll up and down to read the notes drives me batty.
Reading the first few paragraphs of my "The Shock of the Familiar" (November 26, 2024) should provide enlightenment.
Bless you, you have made my day
It’s not, I note, entirely intuitive, so I’m happy to point the way!
And also, if hovering the cursor doesn't work for your browser for some reason, clicking on the footnote number will bring you right there; from the footnote you can either click on the number again or use the browser back function to get back to where the footnote was referenced.
Ah, poor Benjamin Dreyer—no objets, jetons, nor coinage (centimes?) has he … frankly speaking, quel domage.
Query: With hands behind one’s back, how does feel? Metaphysically?
lousy, usually! ba-dum-tiss
My condolences! For me, it’s usually ba-dumpty … with a side order of humpty.
All my nonsense aside, it must be challenging to “cast a cold eye” on another’s writing … temptation to “tame” would be overwhelming.
It can take a while to really recognize who’s the dog and who’s the tail in the copyediting process, but if you want to be a copy editor anyone’s actually going to hire, you better learn that lesson pdq.
I tried once … failed miserably … tried to remake the writer into me … as if the world needs another….
As usual, the footnotes were as entertaining as the body was educational.
In footnote 1, I learned a new terminology for mixed cases. (Dromedary! Aha!)
Back to the text for a moment, I was impressed by the split infinitive you provided:
"to—as I often say—do" .
Footnote 5: I am in agreement with the need for more statesmen.
Footnote 7 made me wonder: in the good old days, did you actually have to erase what you wrote? Couldn't you line through or color over the errors with the writing end of your instrument? Or is it that you would rather leave no evidence?
I look forward to parts 2 et seq. And to your on-line seminar as well.
Re the erasure process: You really did have to dispose of things you didn’t want authors to see, because they were going to be receiving your actual set of pages (a xerox or two would be retained in house, of course). And the pages were expected to look authoritative, not anarchic. I suppose that one might have reached for a bottle of Wite-Out, but good luck trying to write new notes over a Wite-Out splotch.
I’m glad you enjoyed this first installment. This could certainly go on and on, and quite possibly it will. And I’m glad to know you’ll be at the online seminar!
Small change in plans -- now that I've seen the cost of the seminar I have deferred a decision till later this month. I'd really like to do it and will if I can.
🙏🏻
I once noted to an author that she seemed to insert commas almost randomly. "Yes," she agreed with a touch too much delight, "I toss them in like little ninja stars."
“Let me get my hat and my knife.”
“Noon dinner” gives a strong Sunday vibe to me, since in my 50s childhood that was the one day of the week the main meal was invariably the midday meal. When my grandfather was dairy farming and not working as a carpenter, “dinner” was always midday; but when he started construction work, he hired people to milk for him, and the evening meal was the main meal, except for Sunday. I think the same pattern held for my father’s family in the 1940s. At home when I was a child, we had the main meal in the evening, except for Sunday, because my father had an office job and we kids were in school.
Oh, thank you, Charles. Firsthand information is the best information!
Camel Case is also recommended when writing hashtags, as it makes them easier to read (especially for people with low vision or dyslexia). It also helps screen readers sound out the hashtags without them sounding garbled.
Yes! And I almost invariably use it unless I’m trying to make some sort of joke about dual meaning that requires me not to use it.
And of course I’m famous for (and I’m reasonably sure I actually coined):
"#YHGtBFKMwTS
When I first read "The Lottery," I thought something like, "Oh, it must be Sunday school." Thanks for another excellent post!
I'm a week late here, but Footnote 1 prompts me to comment. In my programming days, we called the first form PascalCase, from the variable-naming convention in the Pascal programming language, and the second form camelCase, from the hump in the middle. Wikipedia suggests that's a Microsoft-specific convention, so it's possible I picked it up in my decade there, but I'd have thought it originated much earlier. Pascal dates back to 1970.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camel_case