Lose yourself in the lists: 5.191, words and the prepositions construed with them; 5.220, good usage versus common usage (and doesn’t that say it all?); 7.85, the hyphenation guide. In the world of CMoS, rules may be bent if ambiguity threatens. In the three-dimensional world, we consider ourselves lucky to count mere ambiguity as a threat.

The world is full of people for whom “Oh, you know what I mean” is an acceptable substitute for grammar, syntax, subtlety of word choice. After a couple of minutes spent wandering around the Internet, where sharp and incisive writing seems to have rapidly fallen out of favor, taking even basic proofreading down with it, it is comforting to know that I can find the careful consideration of the most arcane points of language in the Chicago Manual of Style.

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
4. Every sentence must do one of two things–reveal character or advance the action.
5. Start as close to the end as possible.
6. Be a sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them–in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

WRONG: I would like to thank my parents, President Obama and Lady Gaga.

RIGHT: I would like to thank my parents, President Obama, and Lady Gaga.

I think this example clears up any lingering doubts about the serial comma’s role in nuance of expression, don’t you? And I imagine that President Obama and Lady Gaga would agree.

2. Read everything in the copy straight through from the beginning to end.

3. Read copy backward to catch spelling errors.

4. Read pages out of order.

5. Have proofreaders initial the copy they check.

6. Have someone read numbers while you check hardcopy.

7. Take short breaks so you can concentrate more clearly.

8. List errors you spot over a month.

9. Alter your routine.

10. Make your marks legible and understandable.

From “How to Avoid Costly Proofreading Errors” by Carolyn Boccella Bagin and Jo Van Doren

Needless to say, many manuscripts looked pretty rough.

Fast forward decades later. We have cut/copy and paste, one of technology’s major leaps forward (up there with the intermittent windshield wiper, Velcro™, and the iPod), to say nothing of AutoCorrect and spellcheck, and guess what! Too many manuscripts still look pretty rough.

Agents will not read crappy-looking work. They get far too much beautifully packaged writing to bother with stuff that the writer couldn’t be bothered with.

People! This is not okay! I’m not going to get all philosophical about the downfall of civilization as reflected in messy work, but it might not hurt to consider it. Why shoot yourself in the foot? Discuss! And then email me, and I will make your work beautiful.

“…one can often be in doubt about the effect of a word or a phrase, and one needs rules that one can rely on when instinct fails. I think the following rules will cover most cases:

(i) Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech which you are used to seeing in print.

(ii) Never use a long word where a short one will do.

(iii) If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.

(iv) Never use the passive where you can use the active.

(v) Never use a foreign phrase, a scientific word, or a jargon word if you can think of an everyday English equivalent.

(vi) Break any of these rules sooner than say anything outright barbarous.

These rules sound elementary, and so they are, but they demand a deep change of attitude in anyone who has grown used to writing in the style now fashionable. One could keep all of them and still write bad English, but one could not write the kind of stuff that I quoted in those five specimens at the beginning of this article.”

Author: George Orwell

Title: “Politics and the English Language”

Date: 1946

I spent many hours vaguely irritated by the creampuff opinions of my fellow group members, many of whom I truly love and remains friends with, when it was clear that the two goals of most members were a) to get finished already with everyone else’s work so they could read their own pearls to us all, and b) to figure out what to say that was supportive and nonspecific, so that no one’s feelings were bruised. I know this to be true, because that’s usually the way I felt. And let’s be honest, you do, too.

I always said, before I began reading my pages, that I already knew what was good about my stuff (which I did). I didn’t need to hear about that. I wanted to know what people didn’t like, what didn’t work–what was trite, or illogical, or weak. But there’s an inherent flaw in that system: the audience is too big. Stephen King says what I had long suspected, suggested to clients, and now, even practice myself (the iron test, right?): Write to one person, your first reader. In my case, it’s my sister. He has many reasons for this advice, all of which make powerful sense.

Read his book.

The days of boxes of inventory crammed into your closet are gone. And so is the stigma of what was known, in pre-digital days, as “vanity press.”

Today, thanks to technology, it is a viable and respectable alternative to the time-consuming process of finding an agent (possibly years), and then waiting for a sale (possibly more years). Today, your book will be printed each time someone goes online to buy a copy. No more boxes of books.

Today, publishers are keeping an eye on the sales figures at Amazon (and the rest) and if they see that a book is gathering steam, believe me, they will not be shy about calling you and suggesting that they buy and republish your book. So in a way, Amazon (and the others) will function as your literary agent while you sell your book online.

Why wait? Publish your book, the sooner the better, and let the market decide.

Thanks to a romp through the Internet’s less traveled alleyways, where people go to get passionate about the esoteric, I found the Latin word for to edit:

corrigo, corrigere, correxi, correctus–V (3rd) TRANS–correct, set right; straighten; improve, edit, reform; restore, cure; chastise;

Isn’t that terrific?

The infinitive is the form of the verb that starts with to: To think, to write, to edit, to publish, to be a huge success and make a ton of money — But we are getting ahead of ourselves…

In Latin (and in many other languages, too) the infinitive is a single word, a special form of the verb: cogitare (to think), scribere (to write), corrigere (to edit), edare or vulgare (to publish), existere (which means be, not just in the sense of exist but also become). Since it’s not possible to split a Latin single-word infinitive, the Powers That Used to Be carved it into stone that we were forbidden to split our English ones, even though it was not just possible but convenient, rational, and not a crime (Sorry, Dad).

BUT…

Many times there is a shade of meaning added to a phrase containing a split infinitive. For example, Oxford Dictionaries offers this elegant explanation:

You really have to watch him. [i.e. ‘It’s important that you watch him’]

doesn’t have quite the same meaning as:

You have to really watch him. [i.e. ‘You have to watch him very closely’]

True dat. So, meaning no disrespect to Cicero or Ovid or my father, I say split them, if it’s necessary, and have a clear conscience (te absolvo), but know what you are doing and do it with care.