Bloody Well Write

Back in the day when typesetters actually “set” type and fonts and weights, and back when such design capabilities were not just a quick keystroke away, old-school headlines were written with initial caps on every word — or at least every major word:

• John Doe Bought The Farm, Never Looked Back

That sort of stylized formatting helped readers know for sure that the line of text was, indeed, separate and definitely not equal to whatever followed. It was a way to draw readers in, hopefully to become engaged with whatever followed. And it let readers know that it was the headline simply because every first letter of every (or nearly every) word was uppercase.

In these days of modernity and quick-as-lightning type adjusters, headlines have evolved — so says the AP Stylebook. For some time now, the go-to writer’s guide has mandated initial caps only for the first word in the headline, as well as any proper nouns:

• John Doe bought the farm, never looked back

That’s it.

I Think I Know What You're Saying (Initial caps are for the birds, yes?) (image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/catnipstudio/3852732117/)

No more do the tiny articles (e.g., a, an, the) or prepositions (e.g., to, of, for) get themselves pumped up. No more does the size of the initial letters imply greater meaning of phrase. Now, it’s up to the writers to truly provide compelling copy that draws in casual passers-by, sucking them into their world of journalism, advertising and intrigue.

Long live the down-style headline. If nothing else, it’s easier on the eye. It invites readers instead of coercing them. It implies a (slightly) higher level of understanding rather than speaking to the audience as if it’s the teacher reading from a held-up book to first-graders. That alone has to count for something.

Happy trails!

SAK

It’s a crapshoot, I tell you.

I had just started in a new position at a new agency and was excited to start things off right with an updated AP Stylebook. Makes sense, I thought, since my own copy of the veritable writer’s bible was the 2007 version. Staying current with the 2010 version (even though it’s already 2011, thank you very much) seemed like a grand idea, especially since the 2011 version wasn’t going to be published for a few months yet.

The 2010 version, for those with inquiring minds, is the first book put out by the AP folks with website spelled as one word and all lowercase. That, my dear readers, was a monumental advancement. Ask any writer or editor you know (hell, you can even ask an opinionated designer or two — they’ll freely offer their belief system on the now-antiquated two-word Web site); he or she will probably be able to explain in four-part harmony the beneficial or detrimental nuances of using one word or two, depending on his or her preference.

So — back to the crapshoot.

As a writer and editor in my new digs at Armstrong|Shank Advertising, I thought it appropriate to get my hands on the latest AP Stylebook. The office manager said, “Hey! No problem. We’ll order one of those suckers right away.”

Cool!

It arrived lickety-split and I set to work, prepared for whatever odd grammar question could arise.

Those progressive heart candy makers must've known that the AP Stylebook editors would cave sooner or later (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/trmarch/3240265590/)

Then, just a few short days ago, the AP Stylebook folks threw a grammar wrench in my well-laid plans. They decided to cave under the pressure of the masses and allow email to take the place of e-mail.

And that, my friends, is huge. Even bigger news than Web site to website. It’s so huge because, in the history of the English language, no compound noun that starts with a single letter has lost its hyphen. For example:

• A-frame
• G-string
• S-curve
• T-ball
• T-shirt
• U-turn
• X-ray

It seems odd to me that the hyphen isn’t there, too, because for the two people who don’t yet know what electronic mail is, reading the word sans hyphen could theoretically make it sound like ehMAIL. And that, as the rest of us electronic whiz kids know, isn’t how it’s supposed to sound.

Why should e-mail lose its hyphen? My best guess is because the masses, in all their texting and tweeting and e-mailing (er, emailing) glory, decided that it’s just too darn difficult to add the hyphen to a word that gets typed or written on such a frequent basis, and those masses revolted to the point of forcing the hand of the AP Stylebook editors.

So — lazy wins.

And you know what? I’m sort of OK with that. I don’t really think it’s the wisest decision based on correctness, but I’ll be a much happier — and faster — tweeter with this new rule in place.

For the record: Email is correct to start a sentence; email is correct in all other sentence locations. Fun times.

Happy trails!

SAK

Thinking back to my youth, I fondly remember watching cartoons on Saturday mornings and holding a mug of milk with powdered Nesquik® slightly stirred into it — just enough to leave a big, bubbled glop of thick chocolate in the bottom of the mug, ready to be spooned into my eager mouth once the chocolate milk had been consumed.

Those were the days.

And in between watching “Scooby-Doo,” “The New Zoo Revue,” “The Secrets of Isis,” “Shazam!,” “Pink Panther,” “Rocky and Bullwinkle,” “SuperFriends,” “Land of the Lost,” “Fat Albert” and “Hong Kong Phooey,” I’d learn some stuff.

Huh?

Yep. Thanks to “Schoolhouse Rock” — a fantastic collection of animated, musical, educational short films that would individually play after the cartoon was over — I learned all sorts of things: American history, science, math (egads!), politics and, of course, grammar. One of my favorite “Schoolhouse Rock” films was (and still is, btw) on interjections.

Several of my favorite Saturday-morning cartoons used interjections visually on the screen: “Boris and Natasha” and the classic “Batman” sound effects (Bam! Klonk! Ker-POW!). And one of my favorite interjections was often used in the cartoon (and live-version) “Pink Panther” — aha! As a form of discovery, aha! offers comedic gold for those who can deliver it on target. None was better at delivering that one-liner than Peter Sellers as Jacques Clouseau in the live-action “Pink Panther” films.

Every once in a while, I like to use aha! in my writing. But recently it struck me that perhaps I didn’t know how to spell it correctly. I waffled between the plain, old aha! and the hyphenated a-ha! But which is correct?

According to the online dictionaries Merriam-Webster and Webster’s New World College, the no-hyphen aha! wins. Webster’s New World College does list the hyphenated version as a secondary possibility, but secondary doesn’t cut it in this burg. So my recommendation is to go with the simpler aha! spelling.

A last note: Although neither dictionary lists the word aha with an exclamation point permanently attached to it, I have done so in this post — reason being that aha is almost never used without the exclamation point. I suppose it could be used with a period to imply sarcasm or a dead-pan delivery or a question mark to imply inquisitiveness, but those are rare beasts, indeed. If you know of other punctuation that could work, send the examples my way.

Happy trails!

SAK

How, oh, how do I write a post about health care in 2011 without getting into the details of so-called Obamacare? Or, living in Kansas, referring to the ongoing abortion debate? Or, since I work in advertising and my fair city has a couple of health care giants that offer ad agencies lots of fun projects that typically have health care (or as the unfortunate case may be, healthcare) in the headlines and copy?

Such the dilemma. But one I’m willing to push my way through and emerge on the other side unscathed.

You see? Barack knows. He's even helping me out by pointing to it. Thanks, man. (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dborman2/3932493193/)

Health care, my friends, no matter how you write it — as a noun or adjective, upside down, backward, ghosted or floating in a hot-pink starburst — is two words. Not one word. No hyphen. Just two words.

Health care.

(See? I did it! Kudos to me!)

Happy trails!

SAK

When I don’t have quick inspiration for a new blog entry, I do what any decent writer needing a boost would do: I flip through my AP Stylebook for ideas.

Today, I came across a little snippet of information that had slipped right on by me.

Hey, cows — home's that-a-way! (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/chelseagirlphotos/242492087/)

Did you have any idea that the AP Stylebook folks frown on using the abbreviated ’til in place of until? I surely did not. They do write that the non-apostrophed till is a perfectly acceptable substitution. But not ’til (no sirree, Bob). You write ’til and you’ll look a fool in front of all your cohorts — a fool, I tell you.

I’ve been doing it all wrong for a very long time. Poo. Fool me once ….

So — Until is good. Till is OK, too.

Happy trails!

SAK

Ice cold and not so sweet — that’s how I like my tea. Apparently, that’s how the AP Stylebook folks like referring to the political tea party, as well.

OK, fine — I’ll try to keep my political views out of this.

The 2011 AP Stylebook succinctly explains the tea party as a “populist movement opposing [the] Washington political establishment.” That’s a short and not-so-sweet account of what the tea party is for those who may not have yet heard of the movement. All two of them.

Please note the lowercase “T” and “P” in the name. That’s really the reason for this post. I’ve seen Tea Party just about everywhere. The AP Stylebook — the ultimate writer’s guide (or should that be “the ultimate guide for writers? See? This writing gig is no cakewalk, folks) — lowercases the phrase, and so I intend to do the same. I wish the same for you.

Now this is a tea party! (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/preppybyday/5076312167/)

Iced tea, by the way, is a fantastic drink to sip all day long if you’re looking for some flavor without calories or weird sweeteners. Regular tea has caffeine, so try non-caffeinated teas if you’re worried about being too wired. Either way, drinking tea keeps you hydrated, which (in my opinion) is a quick cure for a lot of what ails us.

Look at that — not a thing to do with grammar. Oy!

Happy trails!

SAK

So I’m now a tried-and-true 40-something (which, btw, reminds me of “Thirtysomething,” which was one of the best TV shows ever) and, in my entire life and career as a student, teacher, proofreader, editor, copywriter and marketer, I’ve never had to use a particular key on the keyboard — until now.

Why now, you ask? Because, dear readers, I have recently accepted a new position at a way-cool advertising agency in Haysville, Kan. That agency is Armstrong|Shank. And Armstrong|Shank has this quirky little stroke in its name: |.

I’d seen that stroke before at some point in my life. Surely (don’t call me Shirley) I had. At some point, right? But I’d never needed to use it. Again, until recently. So here’s the story.

I was corresponding with the higher-ups at the agency and wanted to use the agency name in an e-mail back to them. But where the heck was that mark? I searched throughout the Symbols field in Microsoft Word. Nope, not there. Perhaps next to the ampersand or plus sign along the top of the keyboard? Not there, either. Sheesh. So I copied and pasted the agency’s name — funny little line and all — from one of their e-mails to me back into an e-mail to send to them. Sneaky, huh?

Then I happened to see that same little sign on some new business cards being produced for work and asked a co-worker how the heck he made that little vertical line. Imagine my surprise/dismay/embarrassment when he showed me where it was — smack-dab on the right side of the keyboard. All I had to do was hold the Shift key and tap the Backward Slash key (granted, that’s another key I don’t use but once in a very blue moon).

So I recounted this story to my husband, and he said,” Well, sure. That’s the pipe.”

And then I mentioned it to a another writer who immediately said, “Yeah, that’s the pipe.”

What? I am the only adult around who’s never heard of this name? Good grief.

I’m guessing that I’m not alone in not knowing. But as with every situation in life, there’s always more to learn, so I’m passing along this little bit of keyboard wisdom to you — just in case you’re in my boat and not in the I-already-knew-that boat.

So — the vertical bar. It’s also widely known as “the pipe” (from Unix origins). It has a variety of applications, most of which are mathematical, computing and related to physics (thus three powerful reasons why I’m not familiar, if you get my drift). Since this is a grammar site rather than a mathematical one, I’m going to leave it at this: The vertical bar is a great tool to divide space or thought in a graphic, visual way. It can also be used as the symbol in the International Phonetic Alphabet to represent the place of articulation of dental clicks.

The more I learn ….

Happy trails!

SAK

What’s in a name? Depending on whom you’re talking to, everything or not so much.

When we were trying to pick out baby names, you’d think we were naming the Taj Mahal or Grand Canyon — something that would be around for eons and would have movies made about it. The meaning of the name, the number of syllables, the words it could possibly rhyme with, the ways it could be abbreviated — every little nuance was considered.

Many companies do the same thing when forming their names. And many add the tag Inc. to the name for legal reasons. But, concerning commas, how should those names be referenced in writing if it’s not for legal purposes?

My assumption would be to do as the company does. If ABC, Inc. wants a comma there legally, why not put it there all the time?

Crazy little assumption, but according to the AP Stylebook, that’s an assumption that can drive an editor nuts. The AP Stylebook folks have this to say:

Abbreviate and capitalize as Inc. when used as a part of a corporate name. It usually is not needed, but when it is used, do not set off with commas: “Time Warner Inc. announced ….”

And you know me. I’m not one to ruffle the feathers of the AP Stylebook gods — at least not on a regular basis.

In legal writing, I would absolutely follow the style of the legal company name. But in journalistic, advertising, marketing or PR writing, I’d eliminate the comma. It’s a space-taker-upper, and it separates the Inc. from the main body of the name, which in my mind goes against the purpose of having it there at all. If you’re going to separate the Inc. with a comma, that implies it’s not a mandatory phrase. And if it’s not mandatory, I can think of a graphic designer or two who would think that it’s fluff and that the space could be better used, so take that sucker out.

Happy trails!

SAK

Nearing the end of the weekend and still plenty to do around the house, I thought you lovers of all things wordy would like this quick post. Or maybe not, depending on what I’m about to write. Either way, here goes.

You know that modern convenience at nearly every fast-food joint in town? That window — or two windows — that you zoom around a building to get to in order to pay dollars and cents in exchange for hot, often-fried, not-all-that-healthy food? Or the line that you wait in at the bank, trying to extract some cash from a tube that zips from you to a smiling attendant? Or the short line with a long wait at the local pharmacy?

Yeah, that thing that saves you time but wastes gas — that thing. That thing that offered me solace and at the same time gave me a sense of responsibility in my very first job at McDonald’s. That thing is technically called a drive-through window. Or a drive-up window.

Not a drive-thru window.

Only in Cali: This two-lane drive-through pulls double-duty for a Bank of America ATM and Starbucks window (photo: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Starbucks_and_
Bank_of_America_Drive_Through.jpg

Check out Merriam-Webster or Webster’s New World College dictionaries and you’ll see that I’m not just making it up to be difficult. I wouldn’t mind too much if thru were adopted as street-legal by either of these dictionaries. But alas, that day has yet to come, and so I stick to my guns and say to you: “Drive through the drive-through!”

Happy trails!

SAK

Indeed, that is apparently the question that never gets answered.

As an editor, time and again I delete extra spaces after periods, much to the chagrin of the writer.

“Two!” they moan. “I was taught that two spaces follow a period.”

I feel for them. I really do. I was taught that same rule in school. The education system follows the Modern Language Association (MLA) guidelines, which stipulate two spaces after every period. Frankly, I’m not sure why two spaces are required. My guess is that those who made the rules back in the day thought that it helped the readability of the piece.

Once I graduated, though, the real world insisted that two spaces after any ending punctuation (period, question mark, exclamation point) was too much real estate. Space is, after all, at a premium across such mediums as newspapers and magazines, so that second space was a luxury that bit the proverbial dust.

And it was a hard habit to break — at least for me. But break it I did. So, while I understand the frustration of those who haven’t yet been influenced by the almighty AP Stylebook — the grammar bible of journalists, advertising agencies and professional writers — I also know that they can kick the second space to the curb as well as I did.

So when my writer friends hand me an article or ad or whatnot and ask me to edit it, I write “universal change” at the top of the page with “only one space after each ending punctuation mark.”

Aren’t ex-two-spaces-after-periods people the worst?

Happy trails!

SAK