chicago manual of style
Citing Your Work: AP Stylebook vs Chicago Manual of Style
March 12, 2008
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by GreenleafBookGroup
Is it disloyal to admit that I admire, sympathize with, even like AP style? It's true that Chicago will always be my first love. And 80 percent of the AP Stylebook is just alphabetized terms in loose chapters. To those of us with wandering eyes and a shaky grasp of the alphabet, that's just cruel. Sure, it's straightforward, but if I want to know about commas, it's pretty well guaranteed I'll get stuck reading about colloquialisms, the Commonwealth of Independent States, and commodities before I discover I'm to look up the entry under punctuation. Where, of course, I'll find Purim, Pulitzer Prizes, and a direction to the punctuation chapter. Well, why didn't you just send me there in the first place? (On the other hand, ask me about Lithuanian independence!)
But AP is great for the applications it's designed for—fitting a lot of information in not a lot of space, and making sure pretty much anyone will understand. It's not a collection of literary tradition and best practices like Chicago. It's a living manual to getting everything right and getting it to press, quickly. No copyeditor with a deadline breathing down her neck gets tempted into reading about colloquialisms when she's looking for commodities. It's fast and it's practical.
A lot of AP guidelines are elegant, too, like the rules for numbers. Numbers always mean a compromise between consistency and common sense, so there are a lot of exceptions in any guide. But the AP's basic concepts can be stated in three sentences: Spell out a single digit (one, eight, 10). Use figures for measurements, scores, and years (6 feet, a 5-year-old girl, 1986, a 3-6 decision). And don't be an idiot (a thousand times thank you, a quarter mile, fourscore and seven years ago). See? Easy!
It almost makes up for that ridiculousness about plurals.*
*A good writer would leave it there. A grammar geek would say "Apostrophe only for proper nouns ending in S? For appearance' sake? You've gotta be freakin' kidding me." I guess we know which I am today.
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Technicalities, Schmecnicalities: How to Edit and Polish Your Manuscript
July 25, 2007
by Lari Bishop
You’ve spent hours beautifying your manuscript, preparing it for submission to your publisher or agent—or getting it ready to wow potential publishers and agents. Then you get a note from your editor that everything you’ve done to make it interesting and attractive is killing the editorial and production process. Oops. You cry yourself to sleep on your inspired manuscript pages.
Manuscript preparation is a strange little detail in the publishing world. It’s the bane of authors, editors, and production artists alike. Today the majority of writers are working on computers, not typewriters. They’re working in sophisticated word processing programs, not simple-format software with few options. And as wonderful as these advances are, they’ve caused a bit of confusion and consternation, particularly for the editors and production artists who work with the manuscript down the line. So if you want your manuscript to be publisher-friendly or if you want your submission to be taken seriously, here are a few tips.
If you are already working with a particular publisher, go to that publisher’s website and check out the specific guidelines for final manuscript submission. This will help keep the process smooth right from the beginning and will make sure that all of the editors and designers you’ll be working with don’t resent you.
If you don’t have a publisher yet, use the following guidelines:
- When choosing a font, use 12-point Times or Times New Roman for all of the text, including excerpts, block quotes, etcetera. You may use another font, or a larger or stylized font for headings, but keep the rest of the text simple. It may be boring, but it’s a standard that most publishers use. It helps them convert the manuscript page length into an estimate for the length of the final book.
- Set your line spacing to double-space for the entire manuscript.
- Don't use extra space of blank lines between paragraphs.
- To mark the beginning of a new paragraph, just indent the first line. You can either use a tab or use the paragraph settings to maintain a first-line indentation. Do not use spaces instead of a tab.
- Use 1 inch margins on all sides of the page.
- Don't use double spaces between sentences. A single space is the industry standard.
- If you have titled chapters (not just Chapter 1, Chapter 2), include a table of contents at the beginning of the manuscript.
- Keep all other styling simple. Do not set the elements of the manuscript (headings, chapter openings, etc.) the way you think they should appear in the final book pages. Your book will be designed by a professional designer, and the design work you spent hours creating in the manuscript will be tossed by the wayside.
- When creating tables, use the table creation tool in the word processing program you're using.
- Insert comments in brackets ([ ]) between paragraphs regarding placement of images, graphs, tables, charts, and any other artwork.
For more detailed manuscript guidelines, you can always refer to the ever-enlightening Chicago Manual of Style.
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When to Capitalize Words: French v french
May 2, 2007
by Jay Hodges
At the dog park last weekend, a car pulled in with the sticker “I love my French poodle” on the back bumper. My dog Otis stopped midsniff as the pom-pom-sporting poodle darted from the car to the nearest patch of grass. Otis wanted to say hello, but not being able to bark a word of French, he was just too intimidated. No matter how much I tried to convince Otis that the poodle probably wasn’t French as in from France French, he wouldn’t budge. Who would have thought a lousy bumper sticker could have such an effect on a dog’s self-esteem?
My interpretation of the line was different from Otis’s. I assumed the creator of the sticker had erroneously thought that “French poodle” is a breed and had capitalized the initial letter of the term as is the commonly accepted spelling for the names of breeds that can be traced to specific geographic locations (e.g., Rhodesian ridgeback, Norwegian elkhound, and Chihuahua).
But if capitalizing the first letter of the word to identify the geographic origin of something is common practice, then why, you may ask, not capitalize the F in “french toast,” the B in “brie,” or the initial I in “india ink”? If Webster’s is your source for capitalization and spelling, then you probably already capitalize these initial letters. But watch out, Webster’s can be vague. For example, the main entry for “scotch” (as in the whiskey distilled in Scotland) is “Scotch,” with a capital S. However, “often not capitalized” precedes the definition. Another example of this sort of fuzziness is the term “french fry,” which appears with lowercase Fs, but is followed by the usage note “often capitalized first F.” Hmmm. Though Webster’s will let you know how the word “scotch” commonly appears, and that the first F in “french fry” may or may not be capitalized, the dictionary reflects the vernacular instead of hard-and-fast rules that determine usage.
At Greenleaf, we refer to the Chicago Manual of Style (CMS) first, Webster’s second. CMS states that words derived from personal names are usually capitalized: Jean-Paul Sartre wrote the play No Exit. “Hell is other people” is a Sartrean concept. CMS refines usage with the following rule of thumb: “personal, national, or geographic names, and names derived from such names, are often lowercased when used with a nonliteral meaning.” So instead of adding “French bread” to your shopping list when you want a baguette, write “french bread,” lest you end up trying to decide between a croissant and un petit pan in the imported bread section of your bakery. The same holds true for “french braid,” “french toast,” “french dressing,” and “french doors.” (My how we’ve been influenced by the French.)
So, following the CMS’s guidelines for capitalizing words derived from proper nouns, wouldn’t it seem logical that the proper spelling of the dog breeds listed above appear with a lowercase letter? One would think so. But CMS recommends consulting a dictionary for the proper spelling of domestic animal breeds. You try explaining that to your dog.
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Common v. Correct
May 17, 2006
by Lari Bishop
Decided May 17, 2006
Cases before the court:
Bring v. Take
Like v. Such as
Over v. More than/Greater than
Big Bad Book Blog delivered the opinion. Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary occasionally dissenting. Chicago Manual of Style occasionally dissenting.
Common usage has invaded the domain of correct usage. The two parties constantly battle for dominance in the written language. Over time, correct usage eventually accepts certain elements of common usage, blurring the lines for writers and editors. And of course, multiple parties take sides in the dispute—editors, linguists, publishers of dictionaries and style manuals. In the end, the true victim is the writer. How is the writer to determine when common usage is acceptable?
It is the opinion of this blog that it is always better to be more specific than less specific when writing. That rule, as well as solid knowledge of the exact meanings of words, should guide writers and editors. Of course, there are always exceptions, instances when common usage, though not correct, is more appropriate. Dialogue is a good example, as is use of slang to make a point or set a tone. And since the tone and writing style of most blogs is very casual, you will no doubt find some examples of common usage here, too.
Keep in mind that it is possible to be correct and specific without sounding pompous or stiff. Following are a few cases that can easily be decided by the writer and will generally not change the tone of a sentence.
bring v. take: People often use bring when take is more correct. For example, “Don’t forget to bring the book with you on your trip.” The difference between bring and take is all about location. When you are asking someone to deliver something to your current location, you should use bring: “Please bring me a glass of water.” When you are asking someone to carry something to another location, you should use take: “Don’t forget to take the book with you on your trip.”
like v. such as: Like is used in so many different ways in our language; it’s not surprising that it rapidly takes the place of a variety of other words and phrases. However, it is important to keep in mind that like really means similar to. In writing, it’s best to use like when similar to could be used instead. If a better replacement phrase is such as, use such as. For example, “Sheila enjoys period films, such as Sense and Sensibility” (meaning Sheila enjoys Sense and Sensibility and other period films), and “I often go to family dining restaurants like Denny’s, but I never go to Denny’s.” When speaking, you might say “films like Sense and Sensibility” (meaning Sheila enjoys films similar to Sense and Sensibility, but not Sense and Sensibility) and it wouldn’t sound strange or incorrect. But when you write, you should try to be more specific.
over v. more than/greater than: This is a classic example of being specific and a classic example of common usage becoming correct usage. Merriam Webster’s and Chicago Manual of Style will tell you that it is just fine to write, “He makes over thirty thousand dollars a year.” But don’t be surprised if your editor changes that “over” to “more than.” For a long time, it was not correct to use over (a term for direction or placement) when you meant more than or greater than, and more than is still more specific.
In the case of Common v. Correct, the Big Bad Book Blog awards the defendant the point of specificity, but acknowledges the plaintiff’s right to assert itself within the language. It is not our intent to deny the natural evolution of acceptable usage. However, it is best for a writer to err on the side of specificity.
It is so ordered.
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Scorn, Snobbery, and Self-mutilation: Hypercorrection and You
April 26, 2006
by GreenleafBookGroup
Have you ever tried so hard to not screw up that you actually sabotaged yourself with your own effort? In writing, this is called hypercorrection—the fear of error that leads to error. Hypercorrection leads to nasties such as
My friend whom for My friend who
Between her and I for between her and me
Thusly and muchly for thus and much
Though these examples may seem obvious, there are plenty of similar but subtler mistakes that sneak into emails, documents, and letters even in the snobbiest circles. For instance, you know you can’t have one alumni, but do you form false Latin plurals like prospecti (for prospectuses) or octopi (for octopuses)? Do you say as when you mean like, which when you mean that, or I instead of me? Hypercorrection doesn't just induce errors—it induces pompous, embarrassing errors. After all, the writer who uses who for whom makes a clear but pedestrian mistake; however, using whom for who [Whom is calling?] creates a monstrosity and shouts insecurity and confusion from the rooftops.
Insecurity is a major culprit in hypercorrection, and writing with confidence can correct some hypercorrective tendencies. But in tricky cases, confidence is hard to come by unless you know the grammatical rules.
Just to clear the air, let’s review the guidelines for whom and me, drawing from The Chicago Manual of Style 5.47.
Seven word pairs in English change when they’re in the objective case: I/me, we/us, he/him, she/her, they/them, who/whom, whoever/whomever. The objective case is the receiving end of the action (verb) or pointer (preposition); if the sentence is about someone getting hit with a stick, the objective case is for the hittee. [Tell me whom Jack hit with a stick. Jack hit me with a stick.] If the sentence is about exchanging things, the objective case is for the receiver. [To whom did Jack give the stick? Jack gave the stick to me. So I hit him. He’s a jerk.] If you’re confused about when to use whom, make the sentence you’re writing a question, and see if the answer would be in the objective case:
____ is calling? He is calling. Use who.
To ____ should I address it? To him. Use whom.
The person performing the action is not in the objective case, so words that point to him should never be either. Conversely, if the person under discussion isn’t performing any actions but is rather receiving the action on the business end of a preposition, use the objective case [between him and me]. Most native English speakers do this naturally, and are only confused about I/me. Therefore, if you find yourself perplexed, change the sentence to third person and test whether you’d use him/her or he/she [between him and her].
Another big source of hypercorrection trouble is the mistaken application of logic to language. Logic interferes either by suggesting a false rule where there’s only one exception or by “fixing” nonsensical common expressions. For these kinds of grammar issues, it’s better to go with your gut than your head—many rules of usage are idiosyncratic and convoluted, and if you make a mistake instinctually, at least you’re preserving your authentic voice. Choose what sounds right, or restructure your sentences so you have an option you’re sure of. (Have someone read your words before you commit them to final form if you’re unsure.)
As a long-term solution, there’s no substitute for looking up the proper usage of your tricky word. It’s easier than it looks, and you may be, as I often am, surprised at what you don’t know. My sources are the lovely Chicago Manual of Style (5.47, 159), Merriam-Webster’s 11th Collegiate Dictionary, and The Oxford Dictionary of American Usage and Style (a sharp, fascinating book with the Latin and Greek plurals for my examples, for example, on page 176).
Learn the rules, look up the exceptions, rephrase troublesome sentences, and proofread everything. But remember, there’s no better cure for hypercorrective tendencies than a natural, relaxed manner of expression. Say it the way it sounds natural, and you’re probably saying it correctly.
TIP: All this serious talk shouldn’t blind you to the comedy of hypercorrection and other smuggery. Consider novelist Douglas Coupland’s dismay at the profusion of gray Ford Taurii (Microserfs), or the missing “je ne sais something” of Shelly Tambo’s rivals (Northern Exposure). Letting a conscious or silly hypercorrection stand won’t damage your rep, and it will probably make word nerds giggle maniacally.
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