Fresh Starts and Changes

Just a quick update from chez Meyer.

The pandemic has been an interesting time. My spouse and I launched a new venture together, and it’s taken up quite a bit of my time. As a result, LSE has taken something of a side seat. Thankfully, my subcontractors and collaborators are wonderful, talented, flexible people, and it’s been nice to work on some select projects with them on more of a part-time basis.

The upshot is that for the foreseeable future, I’m going to be devoting my time to building something elsewhere.

Those of you who subscribe to my erstwhile RSS feed may also note that my name has changed. I’ve dispensed with my nickname, which I loved. But the source of the “W” is now, to me, a source of heartbreak and disappointment. Besides, many of you already know my name. In case anyone is out there searching for “E.A. Williams,” author of some fun and useful articles about Borat and Bakhtin, writing-program assessment, and writing-teacher mentorship, that’s me. Feel free to email me with questions about my dissertation, too. Sometimes, people have problems finding me. I really should get on Orchid…

At any rate, I don’t intend to shutter LSE altogether. I’ll be back with some additional posts from time to time. I hope that all of you are doing very well!

"This doesn't work": Why contracts are your best friend

Copyeditors and copywriters are human. We don’t always nail that white paper or website copy. We sometimes miss commas or garble sentences. We might not capture your voice perfectly. We aren’t machines.

And that’s why if you’re in the biz, as I am, having a realistic contract is non-negotiable.

What do I mean by “realistic”? Well, the contract that I give to my clients says that I will make every reasonable attempt to give them an error-free product. It also stipulates that they have up to 4 weeks after I deliver what I, the contractor, deem to be the final draft to request revisions. Why me? Because every once in a while, you’ll have a client flake, and the finality of your project could be in limbo until they resurface. I’ve only had that happen once to me, and maybe someday I’ll get around to writing a name-and-shame post, but I prefer to leave those karmic ties severed.

I digress.

That kind of language can clarify that writers and editors are only human. And as a client of mine recently said to me, “I understand that there are different styles” of writing. A client may have liked what they saw in your portfolio, but the product you turn around to them ends up being, well, not what they’d hoped for. In that case, you better also have language in your contract that says that you, as the contractor, will determine whether to offer a refund or to rewrite/reedit/repreform the services. That needs to be your decision. Why? Because otherwise you could be at the mercy of an unreasonable, not to mention angry, client. And because you might have cleared out your whole calendar for that one big project; if the client wants a refund, then you’re without rent money for however many weeks that you were working on it. That means no money coming in for weeks past and weeks future. Look, you got hired for a reason, and your client needs to respect your labor. That’s why you need that kind of language in your contract.

I’ve had three attorneys in two states—one from an award-winning national firm—refine my engagement letter language. If you want their names, send me an email.

Why have I dusted off the blog to tell you this? Well.

For the first time ever, I’ve had a client say “This doesn’t work” about a LinkedIn profile that I wrote. He graciously said he’d pay me for the work anyway. But like I said to him, that’s just not my style. I’ve got it relatively good in that I don’t have to worry about making ends meet. But if I were just getting started, I might really need the chance to redo the profile and earn my money. In this case, the client had already rewritten what he wanted for a profile and sent it to me, so I just copyedited it and sent it back to him with a note saying that I wouldn’t be charging him for work that he’s dissatisfied with. We mutually agreed to terminate the engagement, in other words.

Right now, I’m also editing a dissertation off the clock and an academic article for an early-career academic, also off the clock. Again, I’m lucky in that I don’t need the money. My objective is to be helpful. As long as I’m making enough money editing and writing other projects, I don’t need to make a lot from people who genuinely need help (young academics, especially). Nor do I want to insist on being paid for work that doesn’t work. Nothing about that would please Saint Philip Neri, I think. Each case is different, but in some cases, it’s better just to cut my losses, learn my lessons, develop some new trainings to improve my skills, and live to edit another day.

Ask the Saint: "How Long Should My Resume Be?"

Not long ago, I was helping one of my typically insightful, creative, funny, charming, kind, and fascinating clients with a resume.  She had graduated from college with a degree in history, and thanks to some dazzling internships at New York museums that are world-famous, she'd ended up at the right place at the right time to be recruited to a modeling agency.  Who wouldn't?  But after a while, she wanted to get back into a steadier job, so it was time to put together the requisite documents for going out on the job hunt.  She came to me from a third-hand recommendation, and I prepared a LinkedIn profile and resume for her that helped to highlight her talents as a researcher and analyst.

During one of our initial conversations, she expressed some concern about the length of her resume.  It was bleeding onto a second page.  "How long should it be?" she asked.

The answer, as always, was, "It depends."

  • Have you been working in your field for more than 10 years? Then your resume can be a bit longer. Less than that, and you're in a grey area until you hit about the 5-year mark. Anything below 5 years, and I say that it should be on one page. This is mostly because recruiters who are hiring for the kinds of positions that you'd be applying for aren't looking for your whole career history; they just need to know if you have the requisite skills and seem to be a safe bet, and they will make that determination very quickly. That's why it's important to fit your most-essential information onto one page.

  • What are others in your field doing? Search Google Images for examples of resumes in your field. Do people with your amount of experience typically have 2-page resumes? If so, then it's probably safe to let your resume be 2 pages long. If not, then 1-page is the way to go.

Let's say that your resume is 2 pages long but shouldn't be, according to those two criteria.  What can you do to trim your resume down?

  • Use margins strategically. Your resume doesn't need to have 1" margins. Expand those to .5" margins on all sides. You just gained 2 more inches of space.

  • Adjust font size and style. Don't go below 11-pt font for text, but perhaps the lines between paragraphs could be 8-pt. And some fonts require more space between letters than narrower fonts. Find the option that prioritizes readability but also doesn't require wasted space.

  • Get your priorities straight. You might want to brag about this or that accomplishment, but is it going to demonstrate the quality of your fit for the positions that you're applying to? If not, it's on the chopping block. Start eyeing your job duty descriptions with the same critical eye: if there's any verbiage that doesn't clearly and directly connect to the position descriptions for the jobs that you're applying to, it can go. Similarly, know what needs to stay. Be strategic about what you cut so that you're trimming fat that isn't related to the job description at hand.

  • Have someone else read your resume. Tell them to look for wordiness, and maybe ask for their help in rephrasing things. You might think that there's only one way to word something, but asking for fresh eyes to review your resume can help you trim out unnecessary words.

Of course, if you need help creating a resume that speaks to your audience and reflects your strengths, you can always ask me for help.  I work on resumes for anyone from C-suite clients to their interns.  If you're in a rush, though, you can use these tips to give your own resume a bit of polish.

Your paper doesn't propose anything; you do

It's been far too long since I've made a post, and my list of topics to write about grows with nearly each day.  It was a very busy start to fall here at LSE!  It's still just as busy, to be honest, but I can't put off the itch to write any longer.

This post will be relatively short and sweet, but there isn't an author out there who won't benefit from it.  Whether you're a nonfiction writer of literature, an academic writer of scholarly papers, or someone who writes for fun, you need this threshold concept, this paradigm shift, this parted veil: Your paper doesn't propose anything.  It doesn't argue anything.  It doesn't suggest or find anything.  You do. 

Passive Voice and Anthropomorphism: Hiding the Author

In the sciences, folks are often told to write in passive voice or at least to avoid referring to themselves as the researchers and authors of any given study.  This is so they can front the science and not themselves.  Science is supposed to be unbiased, so what does it matter if "I found a positive correlation" or "a positive correlation was found"?  To make sure that science isn't about the scientist, just elide the scientist altogether when writing about the findings---the thinking goes---and the science will be as objective as it truly is.

This is, of course, poppycock.  Anything done by humans is inherently subjective and biased.  Any study they create, and findings they interpret: subjective, at least in part.  We can try to make study methods as replicable as possible, and we can try to be fair about our analyses, but all of that is still going through the filter of human knowledge and decisions, so there's at least a degree of subjectivity.  It's okay.  We've been doing great with our subjective experiences, scientific methods, and analyses for a long time.  Some of them put us on the moon, even.

So don't blame the scientists, okay?  But just know that there's a tendency in that direction, and if you don't have the full context, your boundaries get set in the wrong places and next thing you know, you're off the rails.

And by "off the rails," I mean "anthropomorphizing your text."

The American Psychological Association points to precisely this problem in their style manual.  In the [flips to the front cover of the book] 6th edition of the APA style manual, section 3.09, they warn y'all: "do not attribute human characteristics to animals or to inanimate sources."

This means that the following things did not happen in your study:

  • "Previous research argues that new research is needed."

  • "This learning style leads students to better development."

  • "This study compares two phenomena."

Each one of these demonstrates an anthropomorphism.  None of the grammatical subjects here are the actual agents of the actions (check out the verbs) described here. 

  • The previous research is just words on pages; those words can't argue because the are the argument.

  • The learning style doesn't take students by the hand either literally or metaphorically; teachers use the learning style to do that, or students take the learning style and use it for their own development.

  • The study doesn't compare anything. The study is just words on pages. The researcher does the comparison, and the study is the means by which he or she does so. The article that the researcher writes about the study also doesn't compare anything; it is the comparison, in verbal form.

I correct this in academic writing all the time.  Some of my publisher clients have told me to give up, and they're absolutely right.  But it's still a concept worth considering.  When it comes to anthropomorphized writing, where did the person actually doing the thinking and writing behind the text go

You're Still in Charge of Your Writing

When you anthropomorphize your writing, you're kind of buying into the Romanticist idea that those words popped out of the sky, were filtered through your brain (passively), and appeared on the page.  Convenient, if you want to be able to pretend as if your book is larger than life or if you want to disavow it later.  Now, most of you aren't trying to do that when you anthropomorphize your texts.  You're just looking for a quick way to describe your book's contents.  Fair enough.

But think about it for a second.  Imagine you've written a book (if you haven't; if you have, think about your last book).  You're trying to describe the book on Amazon.  You write: "This book explains that..."  Wait.  The book explains?  No way.  You explain.  These are your ideas.  Hit that delete button and try it again.  "In this book, I explain that..."  Still sounds a little too personal, too subjective?  Delete key.  "This book contains a detailed explanation of..."  Now that's accurate.  It's not even in passive voice!

So how might I correct those earlier examples?

  • "According to an analysis of previous research, additional research is needed."

  • "This learning style is used by teachers to guide students to better development." Or "teachers have used this learning style to guide students to better development."

  • "Two phenomena are compared in this study."

Yes, avoiding anthropomorphizing your text may require more words, but at least it's accurate. 

PS: APA even allows for the use of first person to avoid passive voice and anthropomorphizing texts.  To wit: "use a pronoun or an appropriate noun as the subject of ... verbs" that inappropriately attribute agency to texts. 

"Shall," "Will," and Not Knowing It All

I like to think of myself as well-informed when it comes to usage customs and grammar rules (and "rules").  But my knowledge of usage is not exhaustive, and I learn more every day, usually by accident, necessity, or both.  I have no problem admitting this because, as the Laughing Saint, Philip Neri, taught, humility is healthy for us all.  It's a delicate balance to strike---being humble and being an expert.  Admitting that my knowledge isn't encyclopedic is one way to attempt such a balance, perhaps.

Not long ago, I overheard someone say that shall is only used with the first person.  I scratched my head, assumed this person didn't know what he was talking about, and went about my merry way.  That was foolish of me in many ways.  First, I assumed that I knew more or better without evidence.  That is, I didn't know this person's full background.  Turns out, he teaches linguistics, so there was at least some chance that he was right or that he at least had a reason to say something that, to me, sounded utterly wrong.  Second, I assumed that I had an exhaustive understanding of usage.  I do not.  No one does.  Third, in assuming as much, I was giving up any chance at learning (a) what the truth is and either (b) why the custom/rule is as he said it is or (c) why he'd say it is if it's not.  I was being lazy at best and self-righteous at worst.

So here I am, several weeks later, looking at someone else's use of shall and wondering "Was that guy right?"  The question, once ignored, now nagged at me.  I picked up my grammar books.  No information there.  That told me that this must be a usage issue, a matter of custom and/or culture.  So I picked up my soon-to-be-erstwhile CMS 16th edition and turned to the usage section.  Nothing under shall.  Then I unshelved my Oxford American usage handbook, and lo and behold, clarity.

Here's the skinny on shall v. well, according to Bryan A. Gardner: "Grammarians formerly relied on [a] paradigm, which now has little utility."  That paradigm is that when shall is used with the first person (i.e., I or we), it indicates futurity (i.e., that something will, indeed, happen in the future).

Example: I shall go to the store later today.  But he will not.

However(!!), when shall is used with the second (you) or third person (i.e., he, she, it, or they), it connotes a command or promise, an obligation.  It suddenly has what might be described in speech-act theory as illocutionary force---it does something in addition to meaning something.

Example: I will not agree to that contract, and if you wish to remain in business with me, you shall not, either.

Will indicates futurity for second and third person but not first.  When used with first person, it has the illocutionary force of indicating a promise or command.

The distinction is very fine, highly contextual, and therefore easily disregarded.  I'm not saying it's not a useful distinction; I'm saying I'm not surprised that people have stopped honoring it (did they ever?  I do wonder).

Gardner includes this pertinent quip from "Professor Gustave Arit of the University of California":

The artificial distinction between shall and will to designate futurity is a superstition that has neither a basis in historical grammar nor the sound sanction of universal usage.  It is a nineteenth-century affectation [that] certain grammarians have tried hard to establish and perpetuate. ... [T]hey have not succeeded.

Ouch.  So, does the distinction exist?  Sort of.  Am I surprised that I hadn't happened upon it?  No.  I wouldn't fault any of my linguistics or English professors for not teaching it.  Was the person whom I heard articulate the rule as easily dismissed as I thought?  Well, no.  He may only have had one side of a story that is increasingly not being told, but "wrong" is too strong.  In the end, having the distinction in mind is useful, even if I continue to use shall to connote promises or commands and will to indicate futurity in a sort of blanket way.  I won't go around correcting anyone who hangs on to this person-based paradigm.