More Fun from the Chicago Manual of Style

And you thought grammar geeks and copyeditors had no sense of humor. When in doubt, consult the Chicago Manual of Style.

Q. Hi there! For a sign for bachelorette parties, would the phrase “Bachelorette Out of Control” be more appropriate than “Bachelorette’s Out of Control”? The question is one of contraction, because I don’t see how “Bachelorette’s Out of Control” can be correct without “The” prefacing it. Thank you!

A. Out-of-control bachelorettes who require appropriate signage aren’t very convincing, but the first version is better. 

Q. Which of the following is correct? “Canadian customers, call 1-800-etc.,” or “Canada customers, call 1-800-etc.”? I’m inclined toward the former, but keep thinking about that darn Canada goose.

A. For your purposes, Canadian citizenship mustn’t be confused with one’s location in Canada. Given that a Canadian might want to call from New Jersey, for instance, it would be clearer to write, “From Canada, call 1-800-etc.” 

Q. “Between” vs. “among.” I’m going insane. I think the editor who changed my wording is just clueless or hasn’t given the issue enough thought. ... Should I say “competition between companies” or “competition among companies”? They’re competing with each other, severally and individually. At least, that’s what I think. Or is “among” justified on the grounds that competition implies vague, intricate relationships?

A. It really doesn’t matter. The editor might well be clueless—it happens—but you are overthinking this.

Note: The 16th edition of the Manual is about to be released, which is the cause of much excitement. You can buy the book, buy a CD - or subscribe online, which is totally cool, and makes looking things up much easier. Did I mention I love Chicago?

I Saw Something Lovely Last Night

I was watching a results show for America's Got Talent - I could pretend I was just flipping channels whilst reading War and Peace, but I wasn't. I was lounging and watching television. Hey, I'm human.

It was at that excruciating phase when three contestants are on stage, waiting to see which of them will continue as one of the 12 finalists. It really came down to two people: Haspop, a French dancer/comedian/contortionist/mime (I have no idea what he is, other than very talented - one of the judges likened him to Chaplin) and an 11-year rapper/dancer named CJ Dippa. This is a big deal, a really big deal, and potentially life-changing. Of course both of them really really wanted it, and of course the show's producers make them wait an excruciating period while the camera lingers on their faces, the adults tense, the kid nearly bursting out of his skin with frustration, desire, and anticipation all rolled up together.

Haspop's name was announced, and what he did next made me love him. Without a moment's hesitation - without taking even a second to express jubilation or joy - he moved to envelope the 11-year-old in a hug, his back to the camera, completely shielding the kid from the cameras, sparing him even one moment of millions of people seeing him breaking down or sobbing. The other group on stage followed suit, ostensibly congratulating Haspop but forming a protective group around this talented kid with big dreams who had probably just had the biggest disappointment of his young life. Who could then be ushered off stage to deal with it out of the view of the camera.

Sometimes, when watching vaguely schlocky television, you get to see something that revives your faith in people.

You Need to Read This Post

Yes, twice in a row I'm borrowing from someone else's post - blame it on me turning out a chapter a day of a new book, and editing/critiquing some friends' stuff, and a sick dog and all the other stuff that chews up the hours of the day. Or just because I found two great posts these last few days.

Here's one of my favorite passages:

Sometimes, in fact, you’re thinking about how a long time ago, you were kind of a charming young woman who read a lot and married a nice guy, and you planned to go to Paris.

And you never got there.

But you need to read the post to see why she never got to Paris, and why she might no longer be called charming. It's a beautiful piece of writing.

"He Ain't Heavy - At Least Not to Me"

This post from my friend VodkaMom moved me deeply, so I'm posting an excerpt here:

I see that child - the small one, the dirty one, the odd one, the fat one, sitting in the corner of my classroom desperate for a friend.

I know him, the child who smiles and laughs at jokes that are taken at his own expense, the child desperate for attention, for friendship, for acceptance and love.

Each year I search for those souls in my room- they’re not hard to find. I wrap them as best I can in my protective arms, all the while praying that the coming years in school will treat them kindly - but I know in my heart that they won’t. I try show the rest of the class by example what is important - their character, their humor, their intelligence and their special talent.

And that child who is too big for his age? The one who might be the youngest in his class, but because of size his parents decided to send him to kindergarten anyway- in order to help him avoid the taunts of the other children? The one they call fat? I know him intimately.

He’s my son.

You can read the rest of the piece here. (And no, you don't ever quite forget that feeling of being the kid in class everyone made fun of or just ignored ... sometimes what you do is grow up and become a writer.)

Why You Take a Butcher Knife to the Woodpile

It starts when you see some puddles on the tarp covering your wood. You pull on the tarp to offload the water, because standing water breeds mosquitoes. That's when you notice that part of the tarp has fallen between two stacks of wood and - you guessed it - filled up with water. Mind you, you don't know how or why this much space ended up between the stacks of wood. You aren't a true Vermonter, because you hate, loathe, and despise stacking wood. It's an endless sort of job and immensely tiring for someone whose primary occupation involves typing and whose primary avocation is bicycling - which means, in essence, no upper body strength. If you could stack the wood with your legs, it would be easy (you were, in fact, able to move a heavy desk and a dresser up two half flights of stairs using only leg strength - this involved pushing with feet from a seated position). But it isn't, and you hate it, so you enlist aid whenever you can, and you have no idea who you pressed into service to help stack this wood. But there's a space between the logs, with what seems to be about 50 pounds of water trapped at the bottom of the tarp. With all your might, you cannot pull the tarp out, and lying atop the woodpile with arms stretched into the space as far as you can reach, you cannot cram enough of the tarp in to allow the water to flow out. You could unstack the wood, but that would require restacking, which you hate. So you repair to the kitchen for a butcher knife, and you climb back atop the woodpile and reach as far down into the space as you can, and stab the tarp. Twice.

And enough water drains out that you can dislodge the huge tarp and its reservoir of water, and pull it off the woodpile, dislodging only a dozen or so chunks of wood, and lay it out to dry, so you can patch it with duct tape and string it properly over the pile of wood. And make plans for a woodshed someday.

Tarp 0, Sara 1.

What's Cooking at Bailey's This Week

I get these periodic menu updates from Bailey's Restaurant & Catering in Tampa - listing specials like these:

• Incredible Sante Fe Chicken – Chicken Breast topped with Sauteed Spinach, Portabella Mushrooms, Oven Roasted Tomatoes, Gouda Cheese drizzled with Chipotle Cream Sauce
• Tellicherry Peppercorn Crusted Pork Tenderloin with Corn Bread Stuffing and Sweet Potato Fries
• Zucchini Frites with Lemon Sage Aioli
• Our Awesome Chicken Tortilla Soup
• Fresh Georgia Peach Upside Down Cake topped with Homemade Peach Ice Cream
• Orange Dreamsicle Ice Cream Stuffed in a Frozen Orange Shell served with 2 Bailey’s Chocolate Chip Cookies
• Decadent Chocolate Mousse Pie

  It's enough to make me want to hop a plane for Tampa. (I know Kim Bailey from editing his cookbook parody.) Here's hoping for a book signing nearby.

Why Black is My Favorite Color

... and other questions are answered in 140 characters or less over at A.L. Sonnichsen's blog, The Green Bathtub, where I participate in a WQI (world's quickest interview) about my upcoming novel, what inspired me, who I'd most like to have lunch with, and other pressing issues. (Thanks, Amy.)

The Tuna-flavored Pumpkin Oatmeal Was a Big Hit

Who says I can't cook?

The dogs loved it. Even Monty, who can be a mite picky when odd foodstuffs appear in his bowl.

This type of creativity comes about when you run out of dog food and just about everything edible, and lack the time and energy to make your way to the grocery store.

We're not going to discuss what I had for dinner.

One of the Many Reasons I Love the Chicago Manual of Style

Fellow word geeks, rejoice.

   Q. A question recently came up in an English class: how many semicolons can you use in one sentence? We discussed how many you should use, but we were still curious whether or not there is an official limit to how many you can use and still be grammatically correct. What’s your answer?
    A. You can use an infinite number of semicolons and still be grammatically correct. (Another reminder that good grammar does not equal good writing.)

    Q. How do you cite T-shirts?
    A. You could write, for example: Last week on Ellis Avenue I saw a T-shirt that said, “I keep pressing Escape but I’m still here.” That is, if you think it’s a good idea to cite a T-shirt.

    Q. Can I use the first person?
    A. Evidently.

Why Do I Like This So Much?

Not sure, but I do.



PS These guys are On The Rocks, an a cappella ensemble from the University of Oregon, and you can buy their recordings on iTunes. You won't get to see them dancing in flip-flops and T-shirts, but you'll realize just how talented they are.

There Are No Destinations

It's the journey that's the point.

No, that's not my clever thought for the day - I'm lifting it from a post by Steph Bowe, a young YA author whose first novel is coming out soon (and it's brilliant).

When you get published, it isn't like you've reached the end of the road. You're still on the road. It's just that the obstacles change.

I beta- read Steph's first novel, and steered her toward several agents, three-fourths of whom promptly made offers. We're now both writing our second novels. She goes on to say:

It's about enjoying being a writer, unpublished and published. It's about taking rejection letters and people's criticism and all the pressure (the pressure and expectation and resentment that make you feel as if your head will explode) and knowing that it's character building.

Yep.

Mom, This Really Wasn't What I Meant to Do

When you give your dogs bones - nice safe, beef bones - it really doesn't occur to you that they may do this:

Yes, she got the circular bone somehow encircling her lower jaw, adroitly flipping it past her tall canine teeth. No, it wouldn't flip back. It's 6.15 p.m.; your vet is closed. Whaddya do? You break out the Dremel saw.

You can see here I've got it sawed about halfway through (eventually I levered a big screwdriver in the slot and twisted to break the bone). Yes, it was nerve-wracking. I had a metal nail file under the bone so I wouldn't saw through into her mouth. Did I mention it was nerve-wracking? Did I mention how awful bone smells as you're power sawing through it? I have to say this dog has an amazing temperament - and that I was one very relieved dog-mom when I got it off.

There should be some moral here, but I'm not sure what:
Things that can go wrong, will?
Keep a Dremel saw in your dog first aid kit?

Today I Am Quoting Quinn Cummings

Because only Quinn can gracefully (and tear-inducingly) connect a bad dating relationship to a bird valiantly trying to live with an apparently broken neck:

When I was in my early twenties, I dated someone who was slender and intelligent and didn’t care for me a whit. He wasn’t mean, he certainly wasn’t abusive, but whenever he looked at me he had the pleasant and slightly distracted air of someone who, at the wedding, got stuck talking to the bride’s great-aunt from Iowa. I had never dated anyone who didn’t at least find me moderately entertaining before. Therefore, I found him fascinating.

To read the rest, go over here. You can tell her Sara sent you.

OK, Now I Get Twilight - Sort Of

I've never quite understood the appeal of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series - I mean, I get the awkward-new-girl-at-school thing and that Edward Cullen is a modern-day Heathcliff (but I never got Heathcliff's appeal either) - and the whole do-I-choose-the-vampire-or-the-werewolf thing, which was done far more appealingly in Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake series (although I did stop reading those after she actually chose the vampire). But this piece does a pretty good job of explaining why intelligent adult women are apparently obsessed with a series that's mostly about unrequited longing (stir in a little Heloise and Abelard):

I think what divides 'Twilight' fans from 'Harry Potter' fans or 'Star Wars' fans is the fact that we get such a high from the series. We have to reread and rewatch the movies to feel that high again. It's almost this kind of anxiety that can't be dealt with any other way than watching the movies or reading the books. You just want to keep reliving Edward and Bella's love story. It's like being in love -- it's all you can think about. And all you want to do is see that person, or read those books.  

OK, now I sort of get it. This woman, who says she's seen the first movie 80 times and the second about 40, goes on to say

... Bella and Edward have this gotta-have-it love. That's appealing to so many people because we want that same love, and reading the books gives us hope that it's out there.

Not my cup of tea (hey, I didn't like The DaVinci Code, either) and I'm not sure how healthy it is to long for a gotta-have-it love ... but at least this somewhat resolves the mystery for me.

Note: Here's an interesting review of the recent Eclipse movie.