Do Your Documents Show Your Age?

Back in the day, Ms. Nancy Duty taught me—and the rest of Bruceville-Eddy High school—to use two spaces at the end of every sentence and after colons. Most of us were learning to type on IBM Selectrics, although a few were using the newfangled electronic typewriters. (The previous year, my eighth-grade class had started to learn typing on Macs, but the school still had a limited number of computers.)

I never gave any further thought to this practice until I read an article on typesetting in John McWade’s Before & After magazine. This design guru said that the extra space wasn’t necessary in computer typesetting. I stopped using the second space immediately, but I’ve continued to encounter—and delete—countless extra spaces over the last 15 years.

As Cathline Marshall of Studio K&M once pointed out, that extra space “shows your age.” It tells readers that you learned to type in the BC era (before computers), when fonts were monospaced and the letter “m” took up just as much space as the letter “l”. In fact, HTML automatically deletes the second space, requiring serious effort to stick in that little character.

And really, why would you?

Did they ever give us a good reason for that extra space? Ms. Duty told us to use it, period. Sort of like the Ten Commandments coming down from Mount Sinai. Originally, this rule improved readability by clearly showing the end of a sentence, but with the advent of computers and variable-spaced fonts, it was no longer necessary.

Now, it’s annoying. (I can’t count the number of times I’ve found an extra space lurking in an otherwise-pristine document—usually because I tried to manually eliminate all the little offenders.)

Maybe you’re old school, and you honestly think that there’s a legitimate reason for using that extra space. Please accept the fact that this is no longer standard practice, and try not to be offended when editors remove every last one of those buggers.

Don’t believe me? Check out the Chicago Manual of Style.

Playing the Numbers Game: Percentages & Time

Howard Levy, principal of Red Rooster Group, asks the following questions about proper style for percentages and time:

When you have a range of numbers referred to in a sentence, do you use an en dash or the word “to”? As in “20 to 40%” or “20 – 40%”?

Also, would you use the % sign after both the 20 and the 40?

What about time ranges? Do you need to use the :00 in all cases, even if some times start at :30, as in 6 – 7:30 pm vs. 6:00 – 7:30?

All excellent questions. As is typical when dealing with English grammar rules and style guidelines, the answers depend on the circumstances.

Percentages

• When working with a technical document, the standard convention calls for a numeral and the percentage sign. Ex. The control group experienced a 5%–7% reduction in discomfort.
• In nontechnical text, the convention is to use the numeral with the word percent. Ex. Marci predicted a 75 percent chance that John would cancel their date.
• That being said, The Chicago Manual of Style advocates use of the percentage symbol in nontechnical text that’s chock-full of percentages. Direct-response marketing copy, which relies heavily on specific proof, falls into this category. (Plus, testing shows that the percentage sign does a better job of grabbing readers’ attention.) Ex. This little-known stock produced gains of 286% after only six months.

Beyond that, using “to” versus an en dash or opting for one or two percentage signs depends on house style or client preference. The style selected simply needs to be consistent—certainly within the document and preferably throughout the organization’s materials.

Time of Day

Use numerals—including the zeros for even hours—when emphasizing exact time. (Times ranges fall in this category.) Ex. The meeting was scheduled to start at 6:00 p.m. and end at 7:30 p.m.

When referring to time of day in even, half or quarter hours, spell it out. Ex. The wedding ceremony begins at two thirty.

If you’re curious, the appropriate style for abbreviating ante meridiem and post meridiem is either lowercase with periods (a.m. and p.m.) or small caps without periods (which I can’t figure out with WordPress’s limited formatting options).

It’s. Embarrassing.

Last week, I received an email from a blog I subscribe to, one I’ve always regarded as highly professional. That opinion dipped somewhat when I saw the headline misusing the word “it’s.”

“5 Things [FORTUNE 50 COMPANY] is Doing to Improve It’s Image (That You Can Do, Too!)”

These master marketers had mistakenly used the contraction form of “it is” instead of the possessive form, which doesn’t take the apostrophe.

The rest of the article used the possessive pronoun correctly, but the headline still gave me that moment’s pause.

We’ll write more about the “its” vs. “it’s” debate later, likely many times over the course of this blog. The big lesson here is the need for proofreading. Even the most diligent among us can overlook a glaring error – especially when we’ve already reviewed the material a half dozen times or so. When you’re writing for public consumption, those glaring gaffes can cost you credibility.

Before you hit “send” or sign off on that brochure, have fresh eyes proofread for you. After a point, we become virtually useless when it comes to reviewing our own work – or a project with which we’ve been closely involved. We all know someone whose superior command of English grammar slips toward annoying. Take advantage of that person’s persnickety tendencies.

If it’s up to you and you alone, try this:

Step away from the words. Head to Starbucks. Go to lunch. Do something completely different and clear your head before you give a document the final once-over. Like driving, proofreading doesn’t mix well with distraction.

Print the document. We read differently on screen than on paper. It’s easier to catch mistakes on a hard copy.

Read the words out loud. This approach forces you to look at each word – no skimming. You might also find some rough patches that need help.

Check the details. Make a list of critical items like name spellings, addresses, telephone numbers, etc., and check it against the final document. (Someone close to me recently worked very hard on his company’s new business cards – only to discover the city name was misspelled in the final product.)

Sure, everyone makes mistakes. But in a business setting, those errors have the potential to flub your company’s first impression on a prospective client, employee or strategic partner. Do you really want to take that chance?

Don’t Scare the Bamboo

Each time I visit Taiwan, I fall more in love with my mother’s country. The island’s natural beauty, the food, the culture – all make me proud of my Taiwanese heritage.

A friend who recently visited Taiwan described it as one of the world’s most under-rated travel destinations.

He has a point. But Taiwan has at least one serious challenge to overcome before tourists flock to its shores.

As a whole, the country does not cater well to English speakers.

I’m not trying to be the ugly American here, but English works pretty well as a universal language.

Which is easier: Trying to teach Taiwanese [insert nationality of choice] how to speak German, French, Spanish, Russian, Farsi, etc., or using English?

Signs of the Times

In the past 11 days, I’ve seen a number of hysterical signs and slogans that reflect the Taiwanese appreciation of the English language – minus editorial oversight.

Some of my favorites:

• “Baby & Kids Swears.” Reading this billboard for a children’s clothing store, I can hear my cousin’s voice clearly in my head. Of course, it’s supposed to read “Baby & Kidswear.” But it gives me a chuckle to think of precocious little tots swearing a blue streak.
• “Lideas.” It looks like a Greek heroine, but it was actually on a sign for a public women’s restroom. Occasionally, you see words with all the right letters, but in a nonsensical order. My aunt, for example, wore a varsity-looking shirt that said “NUISERVITY.”
• “Scared Bamboo.” I knelt down to read a sign in a public botanical display and laughed out loud. I’m guessing this particular plant holds some sort of holy significance. Or maybe some long-ago gardener frightened it and permanently altered the plant’s appearance.

Having studied a number of foreign languages, I admire the Taiwanese for bravely experimenting with English.

Now, it’s time to take the next step and finesse those skills with some editorial direction – something from which we can all benefit, yours truly included.