I owe most of whatever writing ability I have to my mother, who brutally copy-edited all of my papers throughout my childhood. Whether correctly comma-fying appositives, or matching prepositions in parallel structures, she’d mark up my papers, red pen in hand, and then make me talk through all the corrections with her, one by one.

Frankly, our styles are quite distinct – in fact, she’d likely object to the start of this sentence, on the grounds that ‘distinct’ is an absolute adjective and can’t be modified – and I still hear her voice in my head, chastising me, whenever I end sentences with prepositions, or split infinitives, or make other conscious, conversationally-written choices that run against the most traditional (or, one might say, pedantic) grammar ‘rules.’

But the biggest legacy of her teaching might be my long-standing habit of double-spacing after periods. As she grew up using a typewriter, that habit was deeply ingrained in her own typing. In turn, she passed it along to me, even circling with the aforementioned red pen anywhere I let things slip and single-spaced post-sentence instead.

For years, even as I read typographers’ screeds decrying that double-space practice, I still held onto the idea that it made good sense, a kerning assist to help break one sentence from the next. But, over time, I was slowly swayed by the monospaced vs already-proportionally-spaced font argument. And, by now, I’m certain that single spacing after periods is indeed the correct choice.

Still, like in so many areas of life, there’s a gap between knowing and doing. Especially in a sphere, like touch-typing, that depends so highly on muscle memory. For years, I was saved from myself by technology. For example, WordPress depended on HTML, which automatically collapsed multiple spaces to a single one. And MacOS (like iOS) began to convert double-spaces to periods, so I would catch slip-ups as they occurred.

Still, the Pavlovian conditioning of those MacOS conversions hasn’t appeared to override my years of prior typing. Because even in this very post, I reflexively double-spaced preceding five sentences, INCLUDING THIS VERY SENTENCE. Good grief.

Once WordPress switched to their new Gutenberg editor, it began to preserve (and post) multiples spaces as typed in blog posts. I only realized as much of late. So on top of actively trying to stop double-spacing when I type here, I’ve also been using a quick script to highlight and correct the spots where I slipped up. And, as already evidenced, I wouldn’t say it’s going great.

But, I’m working on it. The road to change is a long and difficult one indeed.

Benjamin Franklin, who helped Thomas Jefferson write the Declaration of Independence, once share this anecdote with Jefferson:

When I was a journeyman printer, one of my companions, an apprentice Hatter, having served out his time, was about to open a shop for himself.  His first concern was to have a handsome signboard, with a proper inscription.  He composed it in these words: “John Thompson, Hatter, makes and sells hats for ready money.” with a figure of a hat subjoined.  But he thought he would submit it to his friends for their amendments.  The first he shewed it to thought the word “hatter” tautologous, because followed by the words “makes hats” which shew he was a hatter.  It was struck out.  The next observed that the word “makes” might as well be omitted, because his customers would not care who made the hats.  If good and to their mind, they would buy, by whomsoever made.  He struck it out.  A third said he thought the words “for ready money” were useless as it was not the custom of the place to sell on credit.  Every one who purchased expected to pay.  They were parted with, and the inscription now stood “John Thompson sells hats.” “Sells hats” says his next friend?  Why nobody will expect you to give them away.  What then is the use of that word?  It was stricken out and “hat” followed it, the rather, as there was one painted on the board.  So his inscription was reduced ultimately “John Thompson” with the figure of a hat subjoined.

by Ronald Wallace

occur.
Some days I find myself
putting my foot in
the same stream twice;
leading a horse to water
and making him drink.
I have a clue.
I can see the forest
for the trees.
All around me people
are making silk purses
out of sows’ ears,
getting blood from turnips,
building Rome in a day.
There’s a business
like show business.
There’s something new
under the sun.
Some days misery
no longer loves company;
it puts itself out of its.
There’s rest for the weary.
There’s turning back.
There are guarantees.
I can be serious.
I can mean that.
You can quite
put your finger on it.
Some days I know
I am long for this world.
I can go home again.
And when I go
I can
take it with me.

Thinking about writing apps, here’s another one I’ve been leaning on of late: Hemingway.  Available as both a free website and a (paid) OS X app, this one comes in handy during the editing phase.

Paste in text, and Hemingway grades the readability of what you’ve written.  It highlights words, phrases and sentences that reduce comprehension.  It marks adverbs you might want to drop.  And it flags use of the passive voice.   All to help you make your writing more forceful and clear.

Left to my own devices, I tend to favor sentences built as overly-long, clause-filled constructions, those that wedge multiple thoughts together in a single, unnecessarily commingled whole.  Like that last sentence, for example. According to Hemingway: “very hard to read.”

So, after writing a shitty first draft, I next hop to Hemingway to slim things down.  Highlighted section by highlighted section, I tweak away.  Trimming the fat, subdividing messy sentences into clearer, shorter ones.  The result: better writing that’s far easier to understand.  And that makes a big difference.  Especially on screen, where comprehension is already reduced as compared to paper.  And on the web, where people scan as much as actually read.

Try it yourself.  And, while you’re at it, have a stiff drink.  It’s what Hemingway himself would want you to do.

Over the last few months, I’ve heard a slew of smart, literate people use ‘nonplussed’ to mean ‘unfazed’ or ‘unimpressed’.

Unfortunately, that’s not what the word means.

Instead, ‘nonplussed’ means ‘bewildered’ or ‘confused’.

I’m totally nonplussed as to why nobody can use that shit correctly.

[Bonus fact: similarly, ‘ambivalent’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t care’. Instead, it means pretty much the exact opposite: ‘I’m torn between strong opposing feelings about this.’ Get that one right, too.]

by Ellen Bass

Bad things are going to happen.
Your tomatoes will grow a fungus
and your cat will get run over.
Someone will leave the bag with the ice cream
melting in the car and throw
your blue cashmere sweater in the drier.
Your husband will sleep
with a girl your daughter’s age, her breasts spilling
out of her blouse. Or your wife
will remember she’s a lesbian
and leave you for the woman next door. The other cat–
the one you never really liked–will contract a disease
that requires you to pry open its feverish mouth
every four hours. Your parents will die.
No matter how many vitamins you take,
how much Pilates, you’ll lose your keys,
your hair and your memory. If your daughter
doesn’t plug her heart
into every live socket she passes,
you’ll come home to find your son has emptied
the refrigerator, dragged it to the curb,
and called the used appliance store for a pick up–drug money.
There’s a Buddhist story of a woman chased by a tiger.
When she comes to a cliff, she sees a sturdy vine
and climbs half way down. But there’s also a tiger below.
And two mice–one white, one black–scurry out
and begin to gnaw at the vine. At this point
she notices a wild strawberry growing from a crevice.
She looks up, down, at the mice.
Then she eats the strawberry.
So here’s the view, the breeze, the pulse
in your throat. Your wallet will be stolen, you’ll get fat,
slip on the bathroom tiles of a foreign hotel
and crack your hip. You’ll be lonely.
Oh taste how sweet and tart
the red juice is, how the tiny seeds
crunch between your teeth.

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