Words Queen Esther Taught Me

Published at superiorprose.com, February 2026:

Faithful readers of John Irving love his novels for (among other things) colourful characters, morbid humour and their celebration of diversity. As one of those faithful readers, another thing I appreciate is that I learn new words with every Irving opus. His latest, Queen Esther, graced me with these additions to my vocabulary.

folderol: fuss, or something that is showy but of no value. The word comes from nonsense syllables (“fal-al-de-rol!”) in old song choruses. “There was no folderol about the seating arrangements.”

shmoonda: Yiddish slang for female genitalia; a vagina. I found no good explanation on the origin of this euphemism, a variation of shmundie. It comes up when the title character asks Jewish boys, who know many words for penis, what the Yiddish word for her genitalia is. “‘You have a shmoonda or a shmoochky!’ one of the Jewish boys cried.”

phimosis: tight foreskin. According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word is derived from a Greek word meaning “muzzling.” The etymology for the Greek word is unclear, though. Prevention of this frequently painful condition is mentioned in Queen Esther as a possible reason for circumcision.

bildungsroman: a “novel of formation”; in other words, a novel about the main character’s formative years. The word is of German origin. Bildung means formation. Roman means novel. Classic examples in the bildungsroman genre include Great Expectations and David Copperfield.

antimacassar: a piece of cloth put over the back and arms of a chair or couch to keep them clean. To understand this word’s origin, you need to know that European men long ago used a hair tonic made with a seed oil from the Macassar region of Indonesia. Cloths were placed on headrests to protect furniture from staining. “The Frau was fussing with ancient and soiled antimacassars on the arms and headrests of the sofas and chairs.”

labile: liable to lapse; unstable. My New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (1993) and the Online Etymology Dictionary say labile’s origins lie in a Latin word. Merriam-Webster says it was “borrowed into English from French,” and French adapted it from the Latin labi. “Post-stroke patients are emotionally labile—they’ll frequently cry over the smallest triggers.”

AI Content Is Sloppy

Published at superiorprose.com, December 2025:

Artificial intelligence (AI) has become widely used, so it’s not surprising to see Merriam-Webster choose an AI-related term as 2025’s “word of the year.”

The go-to dictionary for The Associated Press says slop – “digital content of low quality that is produced usually in quantity by means of artificial intelligence” – is the leading word of 2025.

The dictionary publisher says people saw a “flood of slop” online this year, and who would disagree? Not the Wall Street Journal, which said it’s “everywhere.” Not CNN, which said in one headline that “AI slop has turned social media into an antisocial wasteland.”

AI has become so accessible that it’s easier than ever to make garbage memes and other slop, sometimes as propaganda that drives polarization, Merriam-Webster’s 2024 word of the year.

The stuff AI produces is, indeed, often sloppy. AI-generated text often contains “hallucinations” such as ChatGPT telling users there’s a “world record for crossing the English Channel entirely on foot,” or GPT4 saying just one person survived the 1912 sinking of the Titanic. (Hallucinate, you may recall, was Dictionary.com’s choice for word of the year in 2023.)

People in academia have noticed that AI not only hallucinates facts, it fabricates false citations. For instance, Ben Williamson of the University of Edinburgh recently noticed a paper he was reviewing cited two Ben Williamson papers that he never wrote.

“This is not just a rare mistake or a quirky side effect,” Nayeem Islam remarks in a June 2025 Medium post. “It is a systemic issue that spans nearly all major AI language models in active use.”

Hallucinations happen because AI language models such as ChatGPT and Gemini use “pattern-matching and prediction algorithms” to generate text and “possess no built-in mechanism for fact-checking,” Islam explains.

So, if you’re going to “write” with AI, how should you correct for this inherent flaw?

Well, my blunt advice is simply “don’t be lazy.” You’ve already saved time generating copy via AI. Why not use a little of that saved time to read over what’s been generated and do some fact-checking?

Also, or alternatively, you could hire someone to do that for you. I’m available.

Figuring Out Numbers

Published at superiorprose.com, July 2025:

When to spell out numbers depends in good part on what kind of writing you’re doing.

In books for general readerships, the standard is The Chicago Manual of Style’s “general rule” of writing out whole numbers from zero to one hundred.

In newspaper journalism, whole numbers from zero to nine are written. After nine, numbers are expressed in arabic numerals: 10, 11, 12, etc.

There are exceptions to the above rules. Chicago, for example, has an “alternate rule” of “spelling out only single-digit numbers” and suggests that it sometimes could make sense to stick to digits in a series of measurements that are both below and above 100.

The important thing is to be consistent.

Chicago and the stylebooks for The Canadian Press and The Associated Press all offer detailed guidance on how to express numbers in print.

The CP Stylebook directs reporters to “write increased to 15 per cent from 10 (not increased from 10 to 15 per cent),” because increased from 10 to 15 per cent could be read to mean there was an increase of 15 per cent at most.

The Canadian news agency says a number should be spelled out at the start of a sentence, with a notable exception for calendar years: 2025 began quietly in Kipling, Sask. But you should probably recast the sentence, if you can, to avoid beginning with the year.

The AP Stylebook has guidelines for numbers that are similar but not identical to CP’s. It advises spelling out one through nine – “in general.” One exception is with ages: AP says to write The law is 8 years old. In CP style, you would spell out eight.

CP advises, by the way, that “writers should mind their math” when presenting statistics. I think that’s important advice.

Know the difference between a “Y per cent drop” and a drop of that many percentage points. As CP puts it: “A poll that suggests a drop in government support to 25 from 50 per cent does not mean a 25 per cent drop. It’s a change of 25 percentage points.”

Also, understand that a doubling is a 100 per cent increase, a tripling is a 200 (not 300) per cent increase, a quadrupling is a 300 per cent increase and so on. And “three times as much” is not the same as “three times more” (which is four times as much).

Non-Identical Twins in the Dictionary

Published at superiorprose.com, November 2024:

Some pairs of words are like Ashley and Mary-Kate Olsen.

Let me explain.

The Olsens were the youngest cast members of Full House, a popular TV series that had its original run from 1987 to 1995. They played just one character, the daughter of a widowed sportscaster.

The girls were cast jointly for the same role because at age nine months they looked very much the same.

They’re not identical (monozygotic) twins, but it was difficult to tell these non-identical (dizygotic) twins apart.

English has many pairs of words that are like the Olsen twins: not identical, but oh-so-close in appearance. So close that writers and editors must be careful not to let the wrong one slip into publication.

For example: then and than. Use the latter for comparisons (“Susan is taller than Doug”).

Or how about home and hone? Properly speaking, one “homes in on” a target. One does not, as I saw recently in a headline, “hone in on” it.

Similarly, reign is often confused with rein. To limit or control something is to “rein it in,” as if that thing is a horse responding to tugs on a rein. If I had a nickel for every time I saw a mistaken “reign in” … well, I’d have a lot of nickels.

Then there’s the confusion between complement (to complete or go well with another thing) and compliment (to express praise or admiration). And discreet (showing discernment; careful) and discrete (distinct or separate).

I’ll give you one last pair: peak (a mountain’s summit) and peek (a quick glance). I’ve confused the two once or twice.

All these pairs have nearly identical shapes on the page or screen, so you may not notice on a quick glance that you’ve typed the wrong word. Using the wrong word can hurt the clarity of your message.

It’s important to remember that spell-check won’t necessarily catch mix-ups of these and other non-identical twins. A good editor will, though.

Well, almost always. Pobody’s nerfect.

Embracing the Singular They

Published at superiorprose.com, September 2024:

With its 18th edition, The Chicago Manual of Style has fully embraced the singular they.

This comes many years after the manual partially accepted the singular they in a development that one veteran editor called “the middle of the end for the insistence that ‘they’ can be only a plural pronoun.” 

The new CMOS’s revised guidelines on pronouns can be found in the fifth chapter (Grammar and Usage). At 5.44 it is noted that “they can be singular as well as plural in sense” but is always paired with “a plural verb” even when referring to just one person. Write “they are happy” rather than “they is happy.”

The chapter later notes that the singular they is nowadays “used in reference to a nonbinary person” (i.e., a person who identifies as neither female nor male) in addition to the more traditional use when gender is unknown. “In recent years this usage has become accepted in more formal contexts … and Chicago now endorses it.”

I like that the guidance at 5.52 gives a nod to themself as an alternative to themselves when using the singular they: “And themself (like yourself) may be used to signal the singular antecedent when it appears to be the logical choice.” 

Use of the singular they for those who identify as nonbinary is a matter of respect, as stated later in 5.52: “If an individual is known to use they and its forms as their personal pronouns rather than the gendered he or she, this usage should be respected.”

Later in the chapter, there’s a nine-item list of “options for gender neutrality" in pronoun use. The first suggestion is that in some cases a writer could omit the pronoun entirely. 

“For instance, in the programmer should update the records when data is transferred to her by the head office, if there is only one programmer, the pronoun phrase to her can be omitted: the programmer should update the records when data is transferred by the head office. Note that the shorter sentence is tighter as well as gender-free.”

A Commonly Misused Verb: Refute

Published at superiorprose.com, August 2024:

One too-common mistake in journalism is the misuse of the verb refute.

For example, there’s this headline at a regional news website in my part of the world: “Neebing Minor Hockey refutes allegations from Lakehead Minor Hockey League.”

The problem here is that the Neebing organization did not refute the allegations. That is to say, it did not conclusively disprove them.

Rather, Neebing Minor Hockey disputed the allegations made by the Lakehead organization.

Neebing’s president, per the article, took issue with things said by Lakehead officials. That’s not the same as proving them wrong, which would be refuting.

Unless something is actually being disproven, journalists should use a different verb. Some suggestions are rebuke, dispute, rebut, deny, reject and counter.

Don’t wanna take my word for it? Well, the AP Stylebook agrees with me. “Refute connotes success in argument and almost always implies an editorial judgment,” it says.

The Oxford dictionary I have at home does seem to suggest refute could be used to mean simply “refuse or reject,” but I’m with the Associated Press in believing the word should not be used that way. If you mean to say reject, why use the less familiar refute? Your writing is no more concise with the latter, and you could be leading readers to wrongly believe something actually was proven false.

The New York Times is with me on this issue, too. Here’s its guidance, quoted in a 2018 Columbia Journalism Review column: “Rebut, a neutral word, means reply and take issue. Refute goes further, and often beyond what a writer intends: it means disprove, and successfully. Unless that is the intention, use rebut, dispute, deny or reject.”

The Canadian Press’s Caps and Spelling (23rd edition) unhelpfully lumps the two words together with this confusing entry: “refute, rebut (prove wrong; use with care).” The smart people at the news agency should know that rebut and refute are not synonyms.

Over at the Daily Writing Tips website you can find a succinct rundown on the nuances of deny, rebut and refute. To deny is to say “No, that’s not true.” To rebut is to provide reasons for saying the other person is wrong. To refute is to prove the other person wrong.

For clarity – and, as the Associated Press suggests, to avoid appearing to take sides – one should not use refute, rebut and deny interchangeably.

Write “refute” only when something has actually been proven wrong.

The Right Way to Give Feedback

Published at superiorprose.com, August 2023:

I recently discovered Author Magazine, a website chock-full of advice on writing and publishing, and read an article there on how to critique other writers’ work. The article is specifically about critiquing within a writers’ group session after an author reads his or her work out loud, but much of the advice applies well to other situations.

Imagine, for example, that a colleague, friend or co-worker has written a report or memo for distribution within an organization. But, before she sends it out to others, she wants your discreet input on what she has written. We’ve all been there, I suppose, as both the advisor and the person seeking advice. Here, adapted from Gary Zenker’s November 2022 post at Author, are a few tips on how to help.

First things first: Before you start reading, find out what your colleague/friend/co-worker wants from your feedback. Does she want to know where things are unclear? What words could be cut? Whether there’s too much jargon? It will be much easier to accomplish your mission if you know what the mission is.

Another thing before you start: Keep in mind that feedback and rewrite are not synonyms. Don’t go into the process with an eye to how you would write the item in question. Another person will convey the same information differently. Respect that. (If the item in question seems unprofessional or not in the right tone, on the other hand, do raise your concern and explain why you think so.)

The article suggests you focus on “the flow of storytelling,” which sounds particularly pertinent to fiction. For the situation I’m thinking of, this bit of advice can be repurposed to say that you should focus on how the item is structured – would it be better if the fourth paragraph were the third paragraph? – and how clear the writer is in expressing her ideas.

An important caveat is not to make grammar and spelling your focus, unless the writer asks that you do. Instead, focus on how well the writing expresses ideas and explains things. Do note where corrections need to be made in grammar and spelling, but don’t fire off an email demonstrating that your grammar is much better than hers. The writer trusted you to give friendly advice; don’t make her regret that.

The article recommends the “sandwich” pattern of feedback – opening with something positive, then offering constructive criticism, and then closing with something positive. That makes sense in the context of a group session, to try to avoid sounding like you’re attacking the writer, but I think it’s unnecessary in a private email exchange. The writer asked you what could be improved; she doesn’t need flattery about how smart she is.

Once you’ve pointed out the parts that need more work, consider closing with a “big picture” statement about what you read. Do you think it will be ready for distribution after a few amendments are made, or does it need a more thorough rethinking and reworking? If the latter, the writer should appreciate your honesty.

Contronyms and Clear Communication

Published at superiorprose.com, March 2023:

We all know English can be a tricky language. It has an immense vocabulary plucked and plundered from all over the world, many words that look or sound the same but have rather different meanings, some difficult-to-follow grammar rules, and countless curveballs in spelling and pronunciation.

One confounding feature of this gloriously eccentric language of ours is the abundance of words that, depending on context, can have opposite or nearly opposite meanings.

These are called contronyms (or contranyms). The term, coined in the early 1960s by an English professor at Arizona State University, is derived from the Latin word contra, meaning against or opposing.

Contronyms are also sometimes called Janus words, in reference to a god in ancient Roman mythology who had two faces looking in opposite directions. A third term for this kind of word is auto-antonym, denoting that the word is an antonym of itself.

The verb sanction can mean “to permit or authorize” – or, alternatively, “to condemn or penalize.” NATO might sanction the use of force, meaning it authorizes the use of force. A judge might sanction (penalize) a lawyer for an outburst in court.

When we speak of oversight, we could be referring to either monitoring or a failure to notice. “The government is strengthening its oversight of independent schools.” “The error was a simple oversight.”

When people say something is fine, they might mean it’s of high quality. Then again, they might mean it’s just “OK” or barely satisfactory. “Fine china” is fancy stuff; “I’m fine” means I’m feeling OK but certainly could be in better shape.

Dozens of other contronyms are listed at Daily Writing Tips. They include cleave (which can mean either to adhere or to separate), left (departed, or remained) and trip (a journey, or a stumble).

When using a contronym, take care to be sure that the context makes your meaning clear. You don’t want the reader unsure which kind of oversight or sanction you’re talking about.

Also, consider using different words that remove doubt as to what you mean. Instead of saying the sportswriter overlooked the soccer club’s achievements, you could say she failed to notice their achievements.

As always, clarity is paramount.

A Very Overused Word

Published at superiorprose.com, August 2022: 

“Never” rules are, in my opinion, always wrong. (Or, if you will, never right.)

When I was in my first year of journalism school, a senior student told me to “never lead with a quote.” I just couldn’t agree with him then, and I still disagree. Leading with a quote usually isn’t advisable, but there are times when a quote makes for a strong start to an article.

Another “never” rule that is often dispensed but still wrong is to never use the word very. Sometimes it can be just the right word, actually.

It is true, however, that the four-letter intensifier is used all too often by inexperienced writers trying to add emphasis: “Jenny is a very smart child.” “The bear was very large.” “Professor Proton was a very big influence on young Sheldon.”

The problem with very is that it is so overused that it has no impact. When readers see it in every other paragraph, the word becomes meaningless to them.

There are three basic approaches to cutting very from your writing: replacing it with another intensifier, replacing very and the adjective that follows with a single word, and simply deleting it.

In place of very, you could write abundantly, amply, mightily, or profoundly, depending on the adjective you’re modifying. There is, in fact, a multitude of words that can be used instead.

You could say Jenny is an exceptionally smart child. You might write that the bear was extraordinarily large. You could say Professor Proton was a particularly big influence.

Here are some other words to consider: decidedly, deeply, enormously, exceedingly, extremely, highly, quite, rather, seriously, and vastly. Which word to use when will depend on context and intended meaning. Consult an online or paper thesaurus for more.

Instead of writing “very [adjective],” consider replacing that phrase with one word of equivalent meaning:
♦ Jenny is a precocious child.
♦ The bear was enormous.
♦ Professor Proton was a tremendous influence.

GrammarCheck and other websites have lists of such words – exact for “very accurate,” and filthy for “very dirty,” to cite just two examples. A suitable adjective may be just two clicks away.

Often you could just dispense with the four-letter word and write, for example, “Jenny was a smart child.” After all, very doesn’t add much in many cases. Mark Twain supposedly had this advice for writers: “Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”

It should be noted, though, that Twain used the little word himself many times. I don’t think he was making a “never” rule.

Disabilities and Putting People First

Published at superiorprose.com, July 2022:

Communicating about disabilities can be tricky. Writers strive to be respectful and sensitive in their choice of words, but there isn’t universal agreement on how to do that and when a line is being crossed.

One key issue is whether language should be “person-first” or “identity-first.” Should someone be described as “a person with a disability” (person-first) or “a disabled person” (identity-first)?

The trend has been toward person-first wording, which is said to avoid the negativity of “labels” that marginalize or dehumanize. Advocates of person-first language say it emphasizes the humanity of a subject while identity-first language “reinforces the labels we place upon people.“

Not everyone is onboard with this line of reasoning, however. Critics of person-first phrasing contend that it seems to treat disability as something we should avoid thinking about – or, to put it another way, it “essentially buys into the stigma it claims to be fighting.” Many prefer to identify, and be identified, as disabled persons or autistic persons and the like.

So, which is the correct approach? Person-first or identity-first? The short answer is that it doesn’t have to be either/or.

The Associated Press points the way to a sensible and appropriate course.

First, the news agency advises that either person-first or identity-first language is acceptable, but writers should ask their subjects which terminology they prefer. The question of whether to say “disabled person” or “person with a disability” is quite important to some people, so asking the question could spare you an angry phone call later on.

AP also directs journalists not to use euphemisms such as “differently abled” and “physically challenged,” except in direct quotations or when used by people to describe themselves.

I believe the most important advice from AP is to “refer to a disability only if relevant to the story.” If the computer programmer you’re using as a source has cerebral palsy, but her CP has nothing to do with the article topic, then why mention it?

The AP guidance, which includes many other helpful pointers, is behind a paywall. I can access it as a subscriber to the AP Stylebook online, but you may not be able to read it. Useful free online resources (such as a primer at wikiHow, and a style guide at NCDJ.org ) can be found with a simple “writing about disability” search on Google or DuckDuckGo. You might also consult an editor who is well grounded in inclusive language.

Indigenous, Aboriginal or . . . ?

Published at superiorprose.com, July 2022:

Preferred terminology for writing about the original peoples of Canada has changed over the years, and it's important for journalists, business communicators and other writers to keep up with the times.

When I was starting my journalism career, the preferred term for First Nations, Metis and Inuit collectively was aboriginal with a lowercase a. That was Canadian Press style at a time when there was a Royal Commission on Aboriginal Peoples and when APTN – the Aboriginal Peoples Television Network – was in its infancy. 

Now the preferred term is Indigenous with a capital I, and if you're going to use the term aboriginal you should give it an uppercase A. So goes CP style since 2017. 

Generally speaking, you should avoid Aboriginal (or aboriginal) unless it is:

• being used in a legal context - e.g., "aboriginal and treaty rights" in the Constitution Act, 1982; 
• part of a proper noun such as the Winnipeg Aboriginal Film Festival; or
• the preference of someone you're writing about.

The word Indian has almost no place in writing about Indigenous matters unless you're referring to the legal classification of Status Indian or that old statute called the Indian Act. Also avoid Native unless it is preferred by someone you're writing about or part of a proper noun (e.g., the Ontario Native Women's Association).

Reserve the term reserve for writing about land allocated to a First Nation. The people living on that land don't identify themselves as a reserve. And remember: "reservation" is U.S., not Canadian, terminology.

You'd be wise to avoid writing "Indigenous Canadian" as not every Indigenous person in the country identifies as Canadian. Likewise, the phrase "Canada's Indigenous peoples" (or "Peoples" if your style dictates an uppercase P) risks offending some who believe with all their hearts that Indigenous nations don't belong to Canada. It would be better to write "Indigenous peoples in Canada." 

Whenever possible, be specific about a subject's Indigenous identity. You could say someone is a member of Opaskwayak Cree Nation, or you could say an organization represents Mi'kmaq women. If you write that "Fox and Spence are Indigenous," you might add information in parentheses, like so: "Fox and Spence are Indigenous (Plains Cree)." That's better than just writing Indigenous or Aboriginal.

If you're unsure of the precise or preferred spelling of a First Nation's name ("God's Lake" or "Gods Lake"?), check its website. If you can't find an official website for that First Nation, Indigenous and Northern Affairs Canada has a list of First Nations on its website. Or maybe you could just phone and ask someone. 

Journalists for Human Rights has published a free style guide to assist in writing about Indigenous people in Canada. Much of the foregoing advice was adopted and adapted from that document, available online. 

Only in the Wrong Place

Published at superiorprose.com, August 2021: 

Be careful how you use the word only. Poor placement of this little modifier can confuse the reader and twist the meaning of a sentence.

“He only wrote three songs” could be taken to mean he alone wrote three songs or, alternatively, that he wrote three songs and did nothing more with them (i.e., he didn’t record or perform them).

The meaning would be clear if, instead, you wrote “He wrote only three songs.” With this positioning of only, it is plain that you’re saying the totality of his work as a songwriter is just three songs.

A recent CBC News article on a species of aster found in Canada’s North had this somewhat ambiguous sentence: “Only an estimated 130,000 stems have been counted in all, with a population that seems only to thrive in the presence of calcium deposits by the park’s hot springs.” What more could be expected of a plant species, other than thriving? The sentence would be better with the second “only” placed after “thrive.”

The article’s next sentence is also problematic: “There are 63 or so thermal springs in Nahanni Park, but the Nahanni aster has only been found in six.” So that readers don’t puzzle over what is meant by only being found, the sentence’s “only” should be placed before “six.” Where has the aster been found? At only six thermal springs.

The key here is to place the word next to, or as close as possible to, the word or phrase to which it applies. A little care in placement of this little word will go a long way toward clarity.

Addendum: Writing about “only” reminded me of the phrase “one of the only,” which I’ve always found irksome. “That’s one of the only jackets left” seems wrong without a number before jackets. The writer should be saying it’s “one of the only four jackets left,” for example.

But should “one of the only” be so irksome to me? After some reflection and a bit of research, I suppose it is defensible as a widely accepted idiom.

An idiom is essentially a phrase that has a meaning that doesn’t match up with what its parts mean. You might say “up in the air” to mean undecided, for example. English has a ton of idioms, and I suppose “one of the only” can be accepted among them. Besides, it has been pointed out that the phrase has been in use for centuries.

So, OK, “one of the only” isn’t wrong. I would, however, advise against using the phrase in most writing. Say something like “one of only a few” or “one of the few” instead. Picky readers are less likely to find either of those phrases irksome.

Demonyms Around the World

Published at superiorprose.com, June 2021:

You know Nigeria’s citizens are Nigerians, but what are the folks in neighboring Niger called? Are they also Nigerians, or Nigerans, or maybe Nigerites? What you’re looking for is Niger’s proper demonym.

A demonym is a word that identifies people from a particular place. There are demonyms attached to countries, regions, cities, and entire continents – places big and small.

Some demonyms are straightforward. It’s easy to see how, for example, Canada’s citizens are called Canadians and Australia’s are Australians. In English a demonym is commonly formed by adding one of a handful of suffixes (for example, -ian or -ite) to all or much of the location’s name.

That’s true for most places, but not all. Some demonyms seem to come from out of left field. Scotland’s most populous city has Glaswegians, not Glasgowers. Residents of Halifax – whether the Halifax in England or the one on Canada’s Atlantic coast – are Haligonians, not Halifaxites. The demonym for the town of Shrewsbury, England, is Salopian.

England, in fact, has many fascinating local demonyms. As noted at iheartbriton.com, Oxford residents are Oxonians while Newcastle upon Tyne is populated by Novocastrians. People in Leeds can be called either Leodensians or Loiners. The northwest’s Manchester has Mancunians. The West Midlands borough of Wolverhampton has Wulfrunians.

Those irregular demonyms tend to have their roots in Latin. The Online Etymology Dictionary says Oxonian is from Medieval Latin. Novocastrian is from Novocastrum, the Latin version of Newcastle. Leodensian comes from Leeds’s Latin name, but how locals ever came to be called Loiners is unclear. Manchester residents are Mancunians because an old Latin name for the area was Mancunium. Wulfrunian, however, does not have Latin roots; instead, it is from the name of a Saxon lady credited as Wolverhampton’s founder.

Not surprisingly, giant India has a colourful variety of local demonyms. Bengaluru, also called Bangalore, has at least four demonyms: Bangalorean, Bengalurinavaru, Bengalurean, Bengaluriga. Mumbai, formerly Bombay, has millions of Bombayites or Mumbaiites. Jaipur’s demonyms include Jaipuri and Jaipuriya. Lucknow’s are Lakhnawi and Lucknowite.

Thunder Bay, my Canadian city of residence, seems to have settled on the demonym Thunder Bayite, though Wikipedia identifies Thunder Bayer as its demonym. (A lifelong resident, however, told me she had never heard city denizens being called Thunder Bayers.) Personally, I wish it were Baysider, which sounds classy to my ears.

If you’re going to use a demonym, be sure you’re using a correct, accepted one. A quick Google or Duckduckgo search should give you the information you need, but be sure there’s more than one source supplying the demonym. If you get further confirmation by finding instances of locals actually using the demonym, all the better.

Niger’s demonym, by the way, is Nigerien.

Acronyms and Initialisms

Published at superiorprose.com, May 2021:

Acronyms and initialisms can be powerful tools for concise communication, but be careful how you use them.

Before I go further, let’s be clear on our terms. My New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary defines acronym as “a word formed from the initial letters or parts of other words.” Some commonly used acronyms are NATO (for North Atlantic Treaty Organization) and FUBAR (F*cked Up Beyond All Recognition).

Acronyms can be distinguished from initialisms in that acronyms are pronounced as words (you say “nay-toh”) while initialisms are pronounced letter-by-letter (you say “C-I-A,” not “see-ah”). They are formed the same way, with the first letters of words, but acronyms and initialisms are not quite the same thing. People often call something an acronym when, really, it’s an initialism.

The main purpose of acronyms – arguably their very reason for existing – is to make written and spoken communication more concise. Why say “North Atlantic Treaty Organization” (four words, 11 syllables) when you can just say “NATO” (one word, two syllables) and everyone will know what you’re talking about? It’s easy, then, to understand why the acronym is a popular implement in any writer’s toolbox.

But there’s a caveat to keep in mind here. You need to be sure that your audience knows what you’re talking about. Don’t assume everyone knows what STEM learning and LEED certification are. For clarity, most acronyms and initialisms should be paired on first use with the full terms being abbreviated:

 • “Why are science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) programs so important?”

 • “The builders applied for LEED (Leadership in Energy and Environmental Design) certification.”

Sometimes you can be pretty darn sure the reader knows what you mean, because some acronyms and initialisms have become so commonly used that no clarification is needed. The reader probably doesn’t need you to clarify that NATO stands for North Atlantic Treaty Organization, or that AIDS is an abbreviation of acquired immunodeficiency syndrome. A person may not know that NASA’s full name is National Aeronautics and Space Administration, but still you could probably just use the acronym without parenthetical expansion and the average reader would know you’re talking about the American space agency.

Some acronyms have become so entrenched in everyday language that they are spelled in lowercase letters and many people don’t realize they are acronyms. You never have to explain that scuba stands for “self-contained underwater breathing apparatus,” though I wonder how many folks know it does. People just know what you mean when you talk about scuba diving. Likewise, people talk about radar and spell it all-lowercase without necessarily knowing it’s an old U.S. Navy acronym for “radio detection and ranging.”

A good rule of thumb here is that you should probably let your reader know what an acronym or initialism stands for the first time you use it. Some don’t need clarification, but most do. If you’re not sure whether a particular string of letters needs clarifying, it probably does. In any case, your editor can make that judgment for you. That’s what editors are for.

Copy Editing and Proofreading

Published at superiorprose.com, March 2021:

My services include copy editing and proofreading.

What’s the difference?

Copy editors correct for grammar, spelling, punctuation, style and more. They look for mistakes, repetition, and inconsistencies before a book or article goes to publication. As one writer at thebalancecareers.com puts it: “Copy editors are the grammatical gatekeepers of the media world. They read over stories—or, as the content is called in industry terms, ‘copy’—and check for everything from typos to nonsensical sentences to errant commas.”

Proofreading is all about, well, reading a proof. A proof is the typeset/layout of what is to be published. Just before sending a book or magazine to the printer (or pressing “publish” on a web post), the proof needs to be checked one last time for what you might call “quality control.” Proofreading is the last chance to catch a mistake before it’s published for all the world to see.

Copy editing generally takes place earlier in the process than proofreading. Besides correcting errors and inconsistencies in spelling, style, punctuation and grammar, a copy editor may also improve an author’s work by adjusting text for smoother transitions, better clarity, and appropriate tone for the work’s readership or “audience.” A good editor will consult with the author before embarking on that kind of more intensive revision, however.

Proofreading is usually less work than copy editing. If it’s more work, then the copy editing likely wasn’t done well. I could be your copy editor, or I could proofread the galley (i.e., the final proof) before your book goes to press, or I could do both. Or maybe your work needs substantive editing (also called structural or developmental editing). Drop me a line and we can discuss what services fit your needs.

5 Proofreading Tricks

Published 18 September 2017 at LinkedIn.com:

Spelling matters. Your Grade 5 teacher was right about that, and it’s still true in this digital age.

There are times when spelling is, in fact, crucial. I’m thinking of resumes and cover letters in particular right now, but it’s also true of reports, proposals and memos to superiors. A couple of misspellings can torpedo your chance at a job, or impede your career advancement with your present employer.

So, as a public service, I offer five proofreading “tricks” I’ve adopted and developed over my past 20-plus years as a reporter, editor and freelance writer.

1. Change the font size.

Sometimes the eye can miss an error due to a line break. You finish one line of text and move down to the next, and you don’t notice that the word at the end of one line doesn’t quite fit with the first word on the next line. Perhaps you’re missing a word, or maybe you’ve paired a plural noun with a singular verb. A boost in font size will change those line breaks and thus make those little boo-boos more apparent. A change in font – from Bookman to Arial, for example – can help, too, by presenting your eye with slightly different shapes than the ones it has been glancing over.

2. Read every word out loud.

Really. Every word. Clearly and methodically, as if the text is new to you and you’re having a somewhat difficult time with it. Don’t zip through the reading. Actually sound out every word. That way you’ll notice a missing word or a “brain burp” malapropism such as having typed “complied” when you meant “compiled.”

3. Put the “find” feature to work for you.

Some terms have alternate spellings that are preferred in some circles but not others. For example, a Canadian journalist might write of a “five-storey” building but “five-story” is preferred in the United States. Using the “wrong” spelling likely won’t be a big deal to anyone but the most picayune of readers, but using both is a definite no-no. To ensure consistency, use the “find” feature in Word to hunt down every instance of “storey” or “story” and change it to the preferred spelling.

4. “Fact check” all names and dates.

No one likes to see their name misspelled, and a misspelled proper name detracts from a writer’s credibility. Correct dates are important for both credibility and (in the case of coming events) making sure you don’t steer a reader wrong. (You’d hate to have someone show up a day late for a meeting because of something you wrote, wouldn’t you?) I’ve adopted a simple system for fact-checking names and dates: I highlight them, either on paper or in Word, and then check them against what Google tells me. If I’ve identified Fred Dougall as president of SBK Widgets, I’ll go to Google to confirm the spelling of his and the company’s name (and, while I’m at it, hopefully confirm that he’s president and not CEO or general manager). If I wrote that the elephant rescuers’ conference was held last April, I should check to make sure it wasn’t actually held in March or May.

5. Finally: Use spell-check.

Spell-check has its deficiencies. For example, it may not flag instances where a typing mistake resulted in a legitimate word (“tic” instead of “tick”). But it’s there, and it’s useful even if imperfect. Use it.