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Monday, October 6, 2014

What's an Editor to Do?

As I write this, I just finished reading a blog posted by someone who claims to be an editor. While her blog information makes sense, I found two blatant errors that are driving me crazy. What's a fellow editor to do?

My initial reaction was to write to the originator and tell her that because of the way she used the word "insure," it should have been spelled e-n-s-u-r-e. Insure means to cover something financially. Ensure means to make sure something happens. I wanted to add that she had spelled the word "acknowledgment" the British way, with the extra e: "acknowledgement." In America, we must spell it "acknowledgment," without the e between the g and the m. Spell checker programs won't catch and fix either of those errors; it takes the eye and mind of a skilled editor to catch those things. I would hope that someone who calls herself an editor would catch them in her own work, though.

My ego wanted to rise up and prove to her that I'm a better editor than she is, but such impudence could lead to major conflict and resentment. I'm sure that in this small world, such an attitude would come back to hurt me, and I don't want to hurt her, either. 

I have always had difficulty reading anything with errors in it. My editor's heart goes into spasm over every typo, dangling modifier, wrong word choice, and punctuation error. It has almost ruined my ability to enjoy reading contemporary novels or even a newspaper, especially now that few publishers have in-house editors and more errors than ever sneak into print.
What's an editor to do when a person claiming to be an editor makes egregious errors in a blog post on the Internet? Unfortunately nothing, but I can vent to fellow writers, as I have done today. Thank you for listening, and oh, thank you for overlooking any of my own errors. I am, after all, only human. Oh, why then do I expect other editors to be super human? Down, ego! Down!

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Lifelong Learning

Once I became a senior, I discovered endless opportunities to travel, take seminars, attend lectures, and join in mini-adventures. Woodstock has two senior centers that offer programs, and the Cherokee County Recreation and Parks Department has a group called Silver Roamers that offers day trips as well as three- and four-day trips, all of which include guides that inform participants of the history and culture of each location we visit. The community apparently wants to keep us "oldsters" entertained and educated, but I am sure that many things are also available for "spring chickens" under the age of fifty-five.

Most recently my sister and I traveled to Tallahassee, Florida, where the senior center there puts on a five-day Lifelong Learning Extravaganza each year. In partnership with a retirement community in Tallahassee, the event offered more than fifty events, lectures, tours, trips, and activities, from kayak fishing to the history of hand bells, and from a songwriting seminar to an improvised concert by a fabulous jazz musician inspired by artwork created by members of the senior center. Many events take place at the same time, which helped my sister and me whittle the list down to twelve events that did not conflict and that sounded interesting. With a dozen things to attend in four and a half days, we stayed busy from morning to night. To name a few of our adventures, we took a tour down the St. Marks River, all the way to the lighthouse in the Gulf of Mexico. Along the way we spotted a bald eagle, a manatee, a heron, and more, and on our way back, a dolphin cavorted beside our boat for a long time, as if escorting us.

Later we climbed aboard a comfortable bus and rode to Thomasville, Georgia, where we strolled for about a mile while a guide told us of the history of the area, pointed out significant buildings, and took us to some of the finest restaurants, where we had samplings of grits and shrimp, sourdough pizza, crab cakes and fried green tomatoes, fresh-roasted coffee, handmade cheeses, and more.

In other events, we took a seminar that covered harmonies from the days of Plato through the music of Elvis. We watched a terrific slide show and learned about the sight and sacredness of India while dining at an Indian restaurant. We listened to the intense adventures and watched videos and slide shows from a man who seeks and often finds the world's rarest mammals. We also attended a concert of contemporary Jewish music on the first night of Rosh Hashanah. We did much more, too. If you are my friend on Facebook, you saw some of the postings and pictures from this past week.
You don't have to be old to learn more about the world around you, though. You don't even have to be a writer to explore areas and subjects that are new to you. You simply have to want to learn, and opportunities will open to you. Here's to lifelong learning!

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

The Mighty Pen -- and an addendum

I wrote the following as my letter from the editor in the latest issue of The Writers Network News, but even if you read it in my newsletter, please read it again and note the addendum at the end.
Facebook fascinates me. I admit it. I probably spend more than an hour a day checking, reading, and rereading posts from friends, relatives, and fellow writers. Sometimes the posts have cute videos, which always lure me into taking time to watch people, cats, dogs, bears, raccoons, squirrels, and even foxes doing funny or astonishing things. My next-door neighbor and I joke that the only way we know what the other is doing is by checking Facebook, which thankfully is not completely true.

Most Facebook postings are happy, upbeat, playful, and entertaining, but sometimes I see a mean-spirited posting, and those make me shake my head. What type of person feels the need to post ugly things on a public forum? How does it reflect on the person who posts those things? The pen may indeed be mightier than the sword, but in my opinion, nasty posts on Facebook or Twitter only make the one who posted the note look bad.

Facebook has helped me connect with friends from the past, and most of the time those reconnections are delightful. One ex-boyfriend, though, after reading some of my Facebook posts, commented that I made my life seem idyllic. At first I felt a little hurt, until I realized he is right, because my life may actually be idyllic. I have pursued a career I love, and it has been financially rewarding to me and helpful to hundreds of writers. I wrote a book that I sold to a publisher that gave me an advance and paid me royalties, while the book was in print. I've successfully self-published a few other books that are still selling. I live in a comfortable house I bought on my own and have paid for in full. I have a dog that loves to cuddle with me, so we nurture each other. I have a loving family, and two of my siblings live close enough now that we get together once or twice a week and always have a blast together. I have checked off most of the items on my bucket list. I have traveled the world on planes, trains, automobiles, cruise ships, barges, feet, and more. I am blessed with supportive and loving friends. I have a great reputation among writers. I am the mother of an accomplished, handsome man who practices veterinary medicine and who married his best friend, a woman I love as much as he does. So yes, if my Facebook comments seem all too upbeat, blame it on me. I am an upbeat person.

Of course I have suffered setbacks and sad times. I've lost many people I loved, including a child. I spent time in poverty in the past. I endured two divorces. I don't write about those things, though. They did not stop me from moving on with life and building the life I wanted to live.

I feel sorry for those who are not upbeat, who resent other people's successes or good attitudes. I feel sad that some people try to make themselves feel better by spending time and energy trying to hurt others with their poison pens. I think those folks are only poisoning themselves, though. I'm too busy being happy to let negative people pull me down.

You can become my friend on Facebook through either my personal page or my Zebra Communications page. Hey, join me on both, and you'll get to follow my personal posts, which are usually upbeat, as well as my professional posts, which are entertaining and educational. You might see me groan about having a cold or stubbing my toe, but for the most part, I hope my posts are uplifting.
A colleague of mine read the above letter and wrote to me to say he lives with a mild form of bipolar disorder. He explained, "[Viewing Facebook posts] when depressed makes me even more depressed. As mostly joyously positive posts (and self-promotion) predominate, it makes me feel that everyone else in the world is having the greatest time with their lives, with only ecstatic things happening all the time, and here I sit in the middle of an episodic depression which feels like the end of the world. When I feel like that, it's impossible to feel joy for others, and the main feeling is one of jealousy. I know that the mood is likely to pass, but I wanted to let you know that such a perspective might be more common than you would think."
I appreciate the fresh perspective my colleague gave me. Although I am sorry that anyone suffers with difficult mood swings, the information gives me hope. Now I hope that all negative posts, especially those directed at me, are the result of an organic issue in the brains of others, rather than an indication that there are truly mean people in the world. I won't stop posting happy things and thoughts, but if I meet with negative reactions, I will try to understand the issues behind the words. 

Friday, August 8, 2014

A Vague Nod to Astrology, and How it Affects Writers

Over the years I have had a few friends who studied, swore by, and lived by astrology. Mostly I found their comments to be a waste of my time, and certainly the generic horoscopes in periodicals always made me chuckle at their ability to apply to anyone in any situation.

I am not a superstitious person, and I often go against convention. I believe Friday the thirteenth is my lucky day. I don't think a black cat or broken mirror will do me any harm, unless the cat scratches me or the mirror cuts me.  

The one thing I do pay attention to, though, is the planet Mercury, especially when I find myself in the middle of a muddled conversation or am involved in a frustrating attempt to resolve an issue with a service or a purchase of some kind.  

Astrologers say that when Mercury is retrograde, writers should use the time to be creative, but should not submit a book for consideration. The planet is considered retrograde when it appears to be moving backward in the sky, because of its position while orbiting the sun.  

According to astrology, the planet Mercury rules travel, literature, poetry, and merchants, so during periods of Mercury retrograde, it is better for writers to stay at home and write. It's supposed to be a good creative time, but not a good time to try to sell your literature or sign literary contracts. The claim is that when Mercury is retrograde, which happens a few times each year, communications get screwy, manuscripts could get lost in the mail, sales contracts can fall through, and (pardon the pun) heaven only knows what other things may happen.  

I was not a believer, until I unknowingly bought (sales/merchants) a new sound system (literature/communications) for my car (travel/transportation) during Mercury retrograde many years ago. Holy cow! The thing barely worked from the start, and then blew a speaker within weeks. A friend who was an avid astrologer wagged her finger at me and explained that I should have been aware of Mercury and its ability to affect travel, sales, and communication. I had to have the entire system torn out of my car and replaced with a new system, but I waited until Mercury was direct again.  

Now I pay attention to Mercury, and when it goes retrograde, I don't buy things like cars, computers, radios, or telephones, and I don't send queries or submissions to agents or publishers. Yes, I'm a little superstitious, but why mess with astrology, which has been around for centuries? 

For those of you who know I recently bought my first new car in twenty-four years, I began my search while Mercury was retrograde, but I told the first salesperson that I would not buy a car until after a specific date. He tried his best to get me to explain my reason so he could attempt to overcome my objection, but I refused to reveal my secret. I waited until Mercury was direct, and by then I had test-driven almost a dozen other cars and dealt with half a dozen other salespeople. By the time Mercury went direct, I knew without a doubt which car I wanted. I bought it from the original salesperson, and I have been most pleased with my decision.
Check the Internet or just ask Siri on an iPhone if Mercury is retrograde, and if it is, find out when it goes direct. Wait at least a day or two after that, before submitting any proposals or manuscripts to publishers or agents--that is if you have become a believer like me. Meanwhile, hole up and enjoy the creative time when Mercury is retrograde.

Thursday, November 14, 2013

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Today I ended a two-week trial using hearing aids. I'm relieved, so far, to have those things out of my ears, but the trial was more revealing than I expected.

First let me explain that I am far from deaf; I have, however, a genetic issue that makes mid-range and low-range voices difficult for me to comprehend, especially in environments where any other noise is going on or when I can't see the speakers face and lips, to get visual clues to what they are saying. My son, who is much younger than me, has the same exact difficulty, and he has worn hearing aids for more than five years now. For that reason, I can at least say my hearing issue isn't one caused by old age. I take some solace in that fact, anyway.

Probably because of my age, however, I gets all sorts of offers for free hearing tests, all given by companies that also sell hearing aids. No surprise there. When the offer for a free trial came in, though, and for a type of hearing aid that is invisible, because it is inserted near the eardrum, my interest grew. It had many advantages, in that they were a type that stays in the ear. I did not have to take them out to shower or sleep. In fact if I did take them out, they would have to be reinserted at the audiologist's office; I could not insert them myself.

Not convinced that I needed hearing aids at all, but aware of my difficulty understanding certain vocal ranges, I went in, subjected myself to all the tests, and sat while tiny yellow devices were placed deep in my ear canal. The audiologist then walked out the door and down the hallway, where I could not see her. Along the way, she asked me questions as she went. I heard each question clearly and could answer easily. Bingo! Maybe we were onto something, I thought.

I went to a party that Saturday night, my new hearing aids secretly tucked inside my hear where no one could see them. I thought I would have a great time, able to hear everyone who spoke to me. Instead I felt as if I had my fingers in my ears, but all the ambient voices attacked me anyway. I did not like the feeling. I wanted to rip those things out of my ears, but I didn't.

On the upside, at home I could turn the television volume down considerably. On the downside, my adorable parakeet's squawks made me jump through the roof. I have no loss of hearing at the high-pitch range, and the analog hearing aids amplified everything, high and low. Ugh.

The next big test came on a Tuesday, when I bowl in a league. More than twenty lanes of people bowling, bowling, bowling, unnerved me with my new hearing aids. Despite all the noise, though, if someone stood right in front of me and talked, I could hear the voice coming through all the noise. I thought it was a little improvement over being without hearing aids, but was it enough?

My ears itched at time, and I was told not to put my finger in my ear, because I could push the appliance farther into the ear canal than intended. I couldn't wash my ears, either. Ick. Although I had been told that swimming was okay, as long as I didn't put my head fully under water, I put off pool aerobics, because I like to swim a few laps, too, as long as I'm in the pool. Another drawback.

Toward the end of the trial, when I had decided the hearing aids were not for me, I called my son to ask him about his hearing aid experience. His voice, which is in the low range that is difficult for me to hear, came through loud and clear for the first time in years. Ah, a plus. During our discussion he admitted, "Mom, it's been frustrating to talk to you for many years."

I knew I often asked him to repeat himself and complained that he mumbled, but he did not sound like he was mumbling when I wore the hearing aids. Maybe I was the one at fault after all.

He quickly backtracked and apologized for saying anything bad, but I stopped him and thanked him for his honesty. I needed to know the truth. I have thought I did not really need hearing aids because I live alone, and no one has ever complained about my requests for repetition, not even my sweet son, who had been suffering in silence. He lives in D.C., though, while I'm in Georgia, and we talk to each other only every few weeks. Hm. Maybe he would call more often, if he didn't get reamed out for his alleged mumbling.

Okay, today I am relieved to have those plugs taken out of my ears, but I'm a little more convinced that I may need hearing aids. I'm educating myself about other types of hearing aids that are more programmable, so that they help me with the mid range without hurting my ears by amplifying high-pitch sounds that I already hear quite clearly. I see hearing aids in my future, but not quite yet. It's a big decision, a serious life change, to admit to any physical disability. In addition, it's a big step to get into the habit of wearing hearing aids.

I did hear my son's voice more clearly than I have in years, though, and that thought alone has kept me thinking that maybe the time has come. Or maybe I'll wait until 2014. Then again, maybe I don't need hearing aids at all. Oh, what to do?

How does anyone admit hearing defeat and spring for hearing correction? Hmm. Much to think about.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

The Meaning (pun intended) behind Name-calling

Something pressed on my mind this morning until I had to sit down to write my thoughts. The other day I had a conversation with a friend who took offense when someone told her she was being selfish for choosing not to have children. Of course she took offense! What a terrible thing to say to another person!

I have a personal relationship with the word selfish. Let me explain.

Born fourth in a family of six children, I grew up to be a people pleaser, one who always helped, did a little more than expected, and did everything I promised, whenever possible. I know now that I formed those traits to avoid being overlooked, to get a little praise, because most of the praise naturally went to the eldest and the youngest children in the family. Was I selfless? It depends on how you view the situation. In actuality, I was probably being selfish, doing all those things to draw good attention to myself, to feel good about myself, to get praise for my deeds. To others, though, I probably looked selfless, willing to help others, even to the detriment of myself, my time, and even my finances, at times.

Skip forward a few decades to the time when my mother was in her seventies. She had been so demanding and neurotic that my father divorced her two decades earlier. She had smoked herself into emphysema and vision loss and imbibed until her heart and liver rebelled. She lived alone, tethered to oxygen and so frail she needed someone to push her around in a wheelchair if she left her apartment. My brother and I, who lived four hours from her, made all the arrangements and paid the expenses to move her to our city, so we could take care of her. We took turns checking on her and ensuring she had everything she required, including clothes, food, medicine, and rides to the many doctors she saw regularly. Both my brother and I ran our own businesses and had other obligations and preferences for our spare time, but we donated a large portion of our time to meeting our mother's needs.

Mother always called me by my formal name when she wanted to insult, instruct, or punish me. I can't even recall the small thing I was unable to do for her one day, when she pointed at me and said, "Roberta, you're selfish." Her words crushed me. I'm selfish? How could that be, after I had done everything I could possibly do to make her life tolerable? I walked out of her apartment that day with tears in my eyes and chastising myself for being selfish. I felt a weight on my shoulders, a burden, that despite my trying to be a good person, one who helped others, I was, in fact, selfish. All the way back to my house, I felt pain in my chest while my mother's accusatory words circulated in my brain: "You're selfish."

Several days passed, while I did even more for my mother, anything to prove I was not selfish. I stopped attending to my business. I arrived earlier at her place and stayed later, doing whatever she asked.

"Count my silverware, Roberta; I think the housekeeper is taking my spoons."

"Yes, Mother." After a complete count, I found the "missing" spoons at the back of the drawer instead of the front.

"Fill my ice trays, Roberta. It's too tiring for me to do so."

"Yes, Mother."

"I need milk, Roberta, go out and get me some."

"There are two containers of milk in the refrigerator already, Mother."

"I want fresher milk."

"Yes, Mother."

Bathe me, dress me, feed me, fold my laundry, comb my hair, shop for me—I did whatever she asked, until I came home exhausted at night to a dog that had been neglected all day. I then worked until late at night to complete the editing work I should have been performing during the day.

One night as I ruminated over my selfishness, clarity struck me: my mother was being selfish, not me! She called me selfish so she could get her way, and it worked. In other words, only a selfish person would claim someone else is selfish. Holy cow! I had hit the mother lode of understanding.

I grew up with a love for words; I love examining them, learning new ones, and delving into their meanings and nuances. Despite my admiration for words, I had not considered the obvious, that name-calling reflects not on the person being called something but on the person who does the name-calling.

When writing dialogue, now, I use my newfound knowledge; when I want to show someone is being selfish, I have that character call someone else selfish. Best of all, should anyone dare to call me any name again, other than Bobbie (or even Roberta!), I will not take it to heart. I will know the problem is in the person who called me that name, and not my problem at all.


Saturday, March 23, 2013

Ask the Book Doctor about Sentences that Deserve Restructuring

Q: I'm writing a short story, and I need help with a sentence. Are any of the following versions I wrote okay?

1. That resulted in a fall in which she fractured her pelvis.

2. That resulted in a fall in which her pelvis was fractured.

3. That resulted in a fall that fractured her pelvis.

Here is the sentence that comes before the other sentence, in case you need to see that one too: She hesitantly took the pills, but they made her very dizzy.
A: I'm glad you sent the prior sentence, because my answer will not be as straightforward as you may have hoped. The word "that," when used as a pronoun, should refer to a noun, rather than a concept, so all the examples are incorrect. The full statement would be more understandable if the preceding sentence were linked with one of the example sentences, but the result would be awkward, such as this compound sentence: She hesitantly took the pills, but they made her very dizzy, which resulted in a fall in which she fractured her pelvis. Okay, obviously that sentence is not only cumbersome, but it also contains two uses of "which," and repetition is not recommended in creative writing. Obviously it's time to look for a more creative approach, but before we do so, let me point out that example number two, "her pelvis was fractured," is passive, and strong writers avoid using passive voice.  

Instead of trying to find the right words for the same sentence structure, recast the entire statement in a clearer, more creative way. Consider, for example, the following rewrite:

She hesitantly took the pills, but she grew dizzy, fell, and fractured her pelvis.

The rewrite uses active voice and is clear, direct, and tight. You may think of an even better way to recast the two sentences, but they definitely need restructuring.

Q: Understanding that a pronoun refers to the noun before the pronoun, I want the pronoun "their" to refer to "doctor," not "specialist," in the following sentence:

Has your doctor suggested you see the specialist who comes into their office? 

I tried rewording the sentence, but I run into the same issue. Any suggestions?

A: One problem is that "their" is a plural pronoun, whereas "doctor" and "specialist" are both singular nouns, so my response will not have "their" in it. I would also break it into two sentences. Here's how I would reword the passage for clarity:

Sometimes specialists come into a second doctor's office to see the second doctor's patients. Has your doctor suggested you see such a specialist?

Q: Is there a question mark after the following sentence? "If you did, will you let me know, because I will be waiting to hear from you."

A: Because the sentence is both a statement and a question, it is a good sentence to recast, rather than attempt to fix with punctuation. Recast it to something like this, and there's no problem: "If you did, please let me know, because I will be waiting to hear from you." Here's another alternative: "If you did, will you let me know? I'll be waiting to hear from you."

Q: If I wanted to use the plural of "yes" in a book title, how should it look? "Yeses" looks likes a foreign word. HELP!

A: Your question about the plural of "yes" is a prime example of a time when it's better to rewrite the sentence than to use odd words. Instead of this sentence: "All the yeses added up to one hundred," consider this one: "The yes votes added up to one hundred." Recast the book title and see if "yes" can stand alone without making it plural.

Q: Where do you stand on split infinitives or ending sentences with prepositions?

A: Editors have relaxed their stand on those issues, because the “rules” were leftovers from Latin and do not always apply to English. As a source, I point to Winston Churchill. Supposedly an editor had clumsily rearranged one of Churchill’s sentences to avoid ending it with a preposition, and the prime minister scribbled the following note in reply: “That is the sort of editing up with which I will not put.”

I would be remiss, however, if I did not point out that strong writers recast awkward sentences to avoid split infinitives or ending sentences with a preposition. Doing so almost always improves the writing style.

To read more questions and answers, order the book Ask the Book Doctor: How to Beat the Competition and Sell Your Writing at

 Bobbie Christmas, book editor and owner of Zebra Communications, will answer your questions, too. Send them to Read more “Ask the Book Doctor” questions and answers at