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Thursday, September 22, 2005
Eloisa on the Fine Art of Copyediting
There seem to be two views of professors in the world: one holds that professors wear their hair in a bun, wear wire-rimmed glasses, and never make a mistake. The second kind are absent-minded, scruffy in dress and attitude and deeply passionate about their study. They may forget their students' names, but they can recite a Shakespeare sonnet at the drop of a hat.
In case you noticed that the second description sounds better, that's because I would place myself amongst that kind: Eloisa James, Absent-Minded Shakespeare Professor. My students giggle when I announce that I am unlikely to remember their names for weeks. They love it when I can't remember the title of a Shakespeare play and stumble around saying "You know! The Jew of Malta? No - no -- no -- Merchant of Venice!" The fact that I actually can recite chunks of Shakespeare when called upon to do so just makes me more of a cliché and therefore, from their point of view, all the more proper for my job.
The problem is that I have two jobs, and what works for Professors doesn't work for Historical Romance Writers -- and certainly not from the point of view of the Harper Collins Copyediting Department. Copyeditors are the people who take one's edited manuscript and go through it with anguished sighs and (probably) oaths, changing the grammar and making it all consistent. A copyeditor is what Barbara Cartland dearly needed in that romance in which the heroine's name changes half way through.
I haven't muddled up a book that badly so far. But sometimes my characters' titles change in the middle (at least, they did before I hired a research assistant with an eagle eye). Quite often, I leave out a word now and then--just one of the small ones. And I've never really got the hang of titles. This infuriates copyeditors -- absolutely infuriates them. I just plowed through 42 typed pages of copyeditor's comments for The Taming of the Duke. Here's a sample:
Given the rules of address for the English peerage, the married daughter of an earl would retain her title as Lady first-name if her husband is below her in the order of precedence. She would be Lady Husband's-title or Lady Husband's name, depending on how high in the order of precedence, if he is ahead of her. Now Lady Girselda (Willoughby) is usually referred to as Lady Griselda, which implies that Willoughby was below her in the pecking order or a commoner. In any event, it is not correct to refer to her or to address her as both Lady Griselda and Lady Willoughby, so places where she is addressed or referred to (wrongly, one assumes) as Lady Willoughby should be changed to Lady Griselda or possibly Lady Griselda Willoughby in reference, not address. Changed needed here, also pages 121 and 363.
Sigh. This is a typical comment, I assure you, only sometimes they sound more annoyed.
Is anyone else as ill-suited to some part of their job as I am? What do you do badly and why?
In case you noticed that the second description sounds better, that's because I would place myself amongst that kind: Eloisa James, Absent-Minded Shakespeare Professor. My students giggle when I announce that I am unlikely to remember their names for weeks. They love it when I can't remember the title of a Shakespeare play and stumble around saying "You know! The Jew of Malta? No - no -- no -- Merchant of Venice!" The fact that I actually can recite chunks of Shakespeare when called upon to do so just makes me more of a cliché and therefore, from their point of view, all the more proper for my job.
The problem is that I have two jobs, and what works for Professors doesn't work for Historical Romance Writers -- and certainly not from the point of view of the Harper Collins Copyediting Department. Copyeditors are the people who take one's edited manuscript and go through it with anguished sighs and (probably) oaths, changing the grammar and making it all consistent. A copyeditor is what Barbara Cartland dearly needed in that romance in which the heroine's name changes half way through.
I haven't muddled up a book that badly so far. But sometimes my characters' titles change in the middle (at least, they did before I hired a research assistant with an eagle eye). Quite often, I leave out a word now and then--just one of the small ones. And I've never really got the hang of titles. This infuriates copyeditors -- absolutely infuriates them. I just plowed through 42 typed pages of copyeditor's comments for The Taming of the Duke. Here's a sample:
Given the rules of address for the English peerage, the married daughter of an earl would retain her title as Lady first-name if her husband is below her in the order of precedence. She would be Lady Husband's-title or Lady Husband's name, depending on how high in the order of precedence, if he is ahead of her. Now Lady Girselda (Willoughby) is usually referred to as Lady Griselda, which implies that Willoughby was below her in the pecking order or a commoner. In any event, it is not correct to refer to her or to address her as both Lady Griselda and Lady Willoughby, so places where she is addressed or referred to (wrongly, one assumes) as Lady Willoughby should be changed to Lady Griselda or possibly Lady Griselda Willoughby in reference, not address. Changed needed here, also pages 121 and 363.
Sigh. This is a typical comment, I assure you, only sometimes they sound more annoyed.
Is anyone else as ill-suited to some part of their job as I am? What do you do badly and why?
Eloisa James, 5:50 PM
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