Part memoir, part queer history book and part instruction manual, Dan Glass’s United Queerdom brilliant explains the struggle.
I’ve blogged before about some of the essential tools of the trade. And this is another vital book for any writer, editor or anybody else who regularly works with words.
“He taps on his cigarette to make the ashes fall, but he hasn’t smoked it enough. It’s a gesture intended to convey composure, but it only makes him appear more vulnerable.”
As a child, I used to love reading about the day in the life of different professions. Those books were great and gave you a real insight, albeit in a child friendly way, about those professions.
Every time I walk into a branch of a, well-known, discount chain, I am distracted by the massive sign they have above one of the aisles. It tells me that I can buy “DVD’s” there.
Authors have a great skill in crafting worlds that we, as readers, slip into so easily. We invest in the characters: feel their emotions, want the best for them.
So why then, did I become an editor and not a writer?
This is something that gets me each time I come across it. I don’t know why, but I must look it up each time I come across this in a manuscript.
They’re six foot. No, they’re six-feet. Or are they six foot tall? Six-foot-tall?
My job is frequently portrayed as being about pedantry. The correct use of the comma, the correct use of subject, verb agreement, the correct spellings.
But that’s not always the case.
What is a “sensitivity reader” and how do you know if you need one? Do they provide a function outside of editing? What makes a sensitivity reader different from a beta reader?
Many people believe that English is full of rules that must not be broken. They are slaves to finding the “correct” version.
Whilst many words do have “correct” versions, there are many examples of words that need choices to be made and then applied consistently. Take, for example, the word “banister”, a pretty ordinary noun and one that you wouldn’t think twice about. Right?