How About A Little Respect?

One of the first things we learned in journalism school was how to write about death. It’s a tricky subject. Most of the time, reporters are not writing for the people in their stories. They’re writing for readers. Every print reporter has had this question from a source:

“Can I read that over before it runs?”

And the answer is always no. See, if you give your sources say over what goes in the paper, you’re opening a dangerous door. One of the best arguments made in favour of reading my stories before they ran came from a major-label publicity person, representing a very, very major rock star, who told me she could lose her job if the wrong information got out, and she just wanted to confirm some details. I still said no, and I told her why: If I were to let her check the story, we would have to let everyone, and that would mean elected officials and other people over whom newspapers maintain a watchdog role. We can’t protect taxpayers’ interests if the mayor has final say over what is written about him.

But when it comes to writing about death, we know what we write is going to be saved, studied and read by people in a state of grief, so a different kind of sensibility comes into play. I know a reporter who recently wrote a compelling obit on a local person, checking and re-checking every fact and putting her all into it, only to have the desk make minor changes that ended up being major mistakes. That clipping will be a part of the deceased’s legacy for generations to come, and it has errors in it.

Which brings me to that rule I mentioned early on: never refer to bodies as people. “The body of Mr. Jones was taken to hospital” is the way we write it. This is a strange one, and I had trouble with it, but it was explained to me by a great teacher: Implying that a dead person is in any way participating in what is going on is an insult to their memory.

Of course, most of the dead people I wrote about were crime or accident victims, but the same attitude applies. These people had families and loved ones, and their feelings matter.

I just read this headline: Canadian soldier killed in Afghanistan returns home. I’ve been seeing a lot more of those, especially in the wake of major Canadian newspaper chains’ decision to move away from the standardized Canadian Press style. Yes, anyone reading that would know the dead soldier didn’t get up and come home. But if there’s even a subtle chance of that misinterpretation, it should be addressed.

Granted, that headline came from a radio station website. But that’s the problem. Written news is moving away from newspapers and onto TV and radio websites (and vice-versa, as newspapers adopt video and podcasts). The old rules of style, grammar and spelling are being abandoned, and the invasion of textspeak and netLOLwhateverspeak are further tainting the language. I’m not against this. Language evolves, as I’ve said before, and so does style. But editors should take a moment, once in a while, and think about who will be reading what they write.

The cynicism that often accompanies stories about public figures should be locked in a drawer when it comes to stories about death. And that old rule about how we write about dead people shouldn’t be ignored. Particularly when writing about our soldiers.

Words That Don’t Exist, But Should

Here are some words I like that don’t actually occur in the English language. As a language professional, I really shouldn’t use them. But I do, I have recently, and I will continue to do so.

• Ridinkulous: My new favourite. “The special effects in the new Indiana Jones movie are ridinkulous.”
• Craptastic: Veering toward overuse, but still apt in many cases. “The special effects in the new Indiana Jones movie are craptastic.”
• Suckness: The poor quality of something. “The special effects in the new Indiana Jones movie are full of suckness.”
• Quantum of Suckness: The amount of said poor quality: “The special effects in the new Indiana Jones movie reach an epic quantum of suckness.”
• What The Fuckness: The presence of a certain quality that makes you stop and say “Uh, what the fuck?” “I came out of the new Indiana Jones movie with a new sense of What The Fuckness.” (Note: Despite its interrogative nature, this does not take a question mark unless it is being asked: “Did you notice any What The Fuckness?”)

Today’s Moron: Possibly Inbred Smoker

Today’s Moron is the young lady I saw this afternoon at a department store.

My five-year-old and I were there buying a birthday present for one of his friends, who is having a party tomorrow (we picked out a Matchbox space adventure set, with alien and moon rock). After paying, we were leaving when we encountered three women in their early 20s standing in the store’s entrance, between the outer automatic doors and the inner automatic doors. They weren’t dressed for the cold, and were clearly just trying to warm up.

One of them, though, was smoking.

Smoking indoors is illegal in Ontario. And with that smoking ban came a distance rule, too; you can’t smoke within three metres of any entryway. That’s about 10 feet, give or take. This young lady, though, was ignoring that, puffing dirty blue stink into the enclosed air of the foyer.

I want to take a moment to describe her. I normally do not ever judge people by their appearance, but in this case it’s important to the story. She was morbidly obese, and wearing Britney Spears-type clothing in November in Canada, so her bare belly was moving around on its own, and was also chapped and red. She was wearing pink Crocs and no socks, and she clearly had not bathed in ages. I got the distinct impression there weren’t too many branches on the old family tree.

But she was all there mentally. Her loud, honking voice was carrying through the entrance as she told her two friends about the job she’d just applied for. “It’s mystery shopping. You go in any store you want and buy shit and then tell about the service you got.”

“Coooooooool,” one of the friends said through the haze of smoke.

A cashier was right behind me as my son and I passed the unholy trio. “You can’t smoke in here,” the cashier told the girl.

And this strange smoking hillbilly said something absolutely perfect: “What? That’s ridinkulous.”

Ridinkulous. You can’t make this stuff up.

So I’m torn. She’s a moron for smoking, and she’s a moron for smoking in a department store, and she’s a moron for wearing pink Crocs in the cold. But she coined a word I’m just going to have to start using.

Writing Good, Part 5

I have a few thoughts on punctuation.

Punctuation’s a tricky thing, and can actually affect things in a big way. You may have heard the story of the million-dollar comma, and there are many, many more like that.

I deal with punctuation as part of my work as a newspaper editor. I work in a room full of language professionals, people with diplomas and degrees (and in one case, a Master’s) who can’t figure out the difference between a hyphen and a dash, a comma and a semi-colon.

This is not to say that I’m any kind of expert. Just browse through any of the Weather Stations and you’ll find me making all kinds of errors. I’m particularly prone, for instance, to forgetting the period at the end of a sentence

But here are some easy quick fixes for you. Let’s start with the apostrophe. This really messes people up. You probably think you don’t have to add an extra s to the end of a noun if it ends in s. Let’s go with the city of Memphis, home of The King: You may think it’s proper to write “Memphis’ music scene is thriving,” but you would be wrong. It’s actually “Memphis’s music scene is thriving.”

Why? Because you pronounce the apostrophized s. Say it out loud. You’re saying “Memphis-es,” right? So it takes an extra s.

But if you aren’t pronouncing the extra s, you don’t add it: “New Orleans’ music scene is still thriving.” See how that works? It can be tricky. But I subscribe to the idea of speaking what you write aloud (unless you’re, like, on a bus or something) to see how it flows. This is crucial.

I’ll toss one more at you tonight. It has to do with semi-colons. You may have noticed that I’m a big semi-colon user; this is because I like longer sentences but prefer a mid-sentence break that goes beyond the comma. See how that worked right there? Again, this comes from speaking sentences aloud.

When I was a reporter, I was often told my copy flowed better than other reporters. My only actual problem was issues of fact, but that’s another story. But I think people said that because I wrote like a conversation, and still do. I want my copy to read like I’m saying it to you aloud (unlike Weather Station 3, where I sound like a third-string CBC rookie with a pillowcase over his head).

I’ve always thought that’s the secret to smooth writing. The punctuation will come later.

New Word Included in Dictionary? Meh

It’s true. “Meh” is now in the Collins English Dictionary. I’ve never used the word, in print or otherwise, but I see it a lot, and I really admire the people who get it right. To me, it always read like a three-letter shrug; the people who really get it insert it into their text so that the reader actually sees that shrug.

It makes sense, too, that it’s in the dictionary. “Meh” fills a linguistic need, a gap: English really didn’t have a single word to express indifference the way “yes” or “no” work. “Meh” is as good as anything else, especially now that “whatever” has been Paris Hiltonized to death.

The rise of the cybersphere has created a whole new emphasis on the written word. People use email, text, MSN, chats, forums, Facebook, MySpace, blogs, whatever … they communicate in writing, not by voice, and so all kinds of crud has crept into the vernacular. The first time I heard someone actually say “LOL” at the end of a remark, I cringed. But I like it when people write “meh.” Do they say it? Never actually heard it. But I’m sure they do.

The Collins people asked the public to suggest new words for their latest dictionary, words that had come into use but were not “official.” Meh won. Others, as reported by The Associated Press, include: “jargonaut” (a fan of jargon); “frenemy” (an enemy disguised as a friend); and “huggles” (hybrid hugs and snuggles). I absolutely love jargonaut, but I’ll take a huggle.

The best part of this? Wherever the word came from, pretty much every expert agrees it was made famous on The Simpsons. The idea that I live in a world where the Simpsons can enhance and augment the language makes me smile. No indifference here.

Mangled Language (Mangluage?)

As you may know, I’m a newspaper editor. I work at a newspaper with a large staff, many of whom are just starting out. I’ve taught writing and critical thinking. And I have three little kids. So I deal with a lot of rookie writers.

Sometimes, when I’m just overwhelmed by the abuses young reporters can heap on this language of ours, I stop by this website for a chuckle. It helps remind me, too, that English is a difficult language to learn, let alone master — and that goes for people who’ve been using it all their lives, not just foreign types.

That would be how things like this happen:

Yes, English is funny.