It must be a slow Monday when I decide to scrutinize a Microsoft Word message window.

I’ve just noticed a subject-verb disagreement, or at least the appearance of one, in the window I’ve viewed more than any other in my lifetime of Word usage (see above). The window tells us that the spelling and grammar check is complete. While true that one check covers spelling and grammar, making it a singular action, a desperately bored reader (hello) would complain that spelling and grammar could be misconstrued as standing for two checks, rendering the singular check and is problematic. I see two possible fixes:

1. The spelling-and-grammar check is complete.
2. The spelling and grammar checks are complete.

After careful consideration of not more than fifteen seconds, I’ve decided that the first fix is preferable. The hyphens link spelling and grammar into an unmistakably singular check. It’s also more accurate than number two, seeing as Word checks for spelling and grammar in the same function.

And, please, let’s set aside the silly counterargument that Microsoft users have seen this window trillions of times during the past couple decades and have likely never given this a first, not to say second, thought. If this post ends up preventing one user from thinking, Wait, did I just perform one or two checks just now? The possible subject-verb disagreement in this box makes it hard for me to remember!, then I’ll consider myself satisfied.

Messrs. Gates and Ballmer, kindly direct your thanks and remuneration to thewritingguide @ gmail dot com.

Lynn, showing who's boss on deadline

I’ve just received word that my first copy chief, Lynn Forbish, has died. Lynn was a benevolent enforcer at The Roanoke Times, quick with a story about growing up in Wisconsin during a lull in the worknight and quicker with a shh! when we were on deadline. I learned more about copy editing from Lynn during my short time at the RT than I did during four years of journalism school. I’m grateful that I got into this game while committed veterans such as Lynn were around to show rookies how to edit with grace and precision while on deadline.

Here’s to you, Lynn.

Sentence-style capitalization, which seems to be the most common approach to e-mail subject lines (as well as most newspaper headlines), is straightforward enough: capitalize the first word and all proper nouns. For example: Kasey’s top five Santa Barbara lunch spots.

Initial capitalization, which is equally acceptable for e-mail titles, is a bit trickier. The following elements should be capitalized:

• First words
• Nouns (proper and common) and pronouns
• Verbs (note that this includes tiny words that are commonly confused with articles or prepositions: Is, Are, Be)
• Adjectives
• Adverbs

Examples: Kasey’s Top Five Santa Barbara Lunch Spots; What Is Kasey’s Position on Subject Lines? (Lowercase the purely mechanical forms of speech—prepositions and articles [in, on, to, and].)

Is one style more appropriate for e-mail subject lines? It depends on who you are, what you’re sending, and whom you’re communicating with. If you’re e-mailing an informal note from your personal account to a friend, then sentence-style is just fine. But if you’re a businessperson e-mailing a newsletter to customers using your company’s institutional account, then initial capitalization will give the message a more formal, authoritative feel.

Writers constantly render the alternate form of until as ’til. (Half the time it’s with the wrong apostrophe—‘til—but we’ll leave that for another day.) But in a cruel twist brought to you by the mutative quality of the English language*, the proper form is till. That’s right, no apostrophe to denote that letters have been sheared off, and an extra l thrown in.

But don’t get discouraged! I like the way a writer thinks when she uses ’til. While it’s wrong, it does show that she recognizes that in many cases a shortened version of a word needs to use an apostrophe to show that letters are missing. Just not, for reasons I hope an etymologist will let us know, with till.

*Please note I am not endorsing descriptivism—or if I am, it’s a much slower version than certain elements among us might like to see.

This offers us a great opportunity to discuss tone, one of the trickiest and most subjective elements of writing. Tone can be undeniably clear (no one would characterize Patrick Henry’s Give me liberty or give me death as mild), but it is just as often up for debate. What one reader considers straightforward another reader might consider abrupt and, yes, rude.

And here we’re talking about tone in a specific sort of communication: office e-mail. More to the point, rapid-fire, utilitarian office e-mail—the kind of communication that, if someone is having a bad day or a deadline is looming or a writer doesn’t possess particularly deft phrasing, can be mistaken for rude when it’s not.

The portion of my reader’s conversation that the boss considered to be rude hinged on that classic pressure point of office communication: the I’ve already asked for the file but haven’t yet received it and now I’m asking for it again scenario. This might be the riskiest of intraoffice exchanges. You really need that file, but you know your co-worker is busy and he might have gotten tied up by something more important, but—dang!—you really need that file. Come on too strong and you’ve just alienated the source of that precious file. Play it too soft and you might end up waiting even longer. Let’s take a look at the interaction and then discuss*:

[This comes at the end of a run-of-the-mill e-mail thread in which Co-worker A asks Co-worker B, my reader, for a file. The ask has been made, and Co-worker B is taking a while to satisfy the request.]
CO-WORKER A: So … Am I going to be able to get the file from you?
CO-WORKER B: Yes, BUT – You’ll have to wait your turn because long-term presentations don’t go in front of daily projects and there are more urgent requests at the moment that must be handled first. As soon as the daily projects have been completed then I will be happy to get you all that you have requested.
CO-WORKER B (second reply): ETA for file 2 PM

*Some nonessential elements of the conversation have been changed to protect the players.

The Writing Guide’s verdict, based on the text alone: an understandably imperfect exchange, but not rude. The conversation is laced with the everyday tension common to a multitasking, deadline-drenched office environment. And it lacks a few rhetorical touches that could soften the tone and increase the politeness. But it does not rise to the level of rudeness.

Co-worker A, who resides in that classic tough spot that I described above, earns points for taking a straightforward tack to his question. If he were to employ exclamation points or beleabor his point about needing the file, he could wade into the waters of rudeness. Instead, he simply asks if he’ll be able to get the file. CWA could be accused of sounding a bit passive-aggressive by using the ellipsis and framing what’s really a statement (I want the file) as a question, but I’m going to let that slide and chalk it up to deadline pressure.

Where CWA went slightly astray was in neglecting to insert the commonly used Hey, I understand you’re really busy, but statement. I’ve always found that employing a bit of empathy in such situations innoculates you from sounding like a pest. But, again: deadline, baby. Deadline.

CWB, on the other hand, does a good job of offering a simple explanation of why there’s been a delay—another project has priority—and assuring CWA that all will be completed once the more important project has been finished. CWB earns extra points by following up with an ETA. That’s classic management of expectations.

My first, slight criticism of CWB’s response concerns the all-caps BUT. That can come across as a rhetorical hand in the face. My second focuses on the follow-up phrase you’ll have to wait your turn, which a sensitive reader could take to be condescending. A gentler opening might have been, Yes, it’s just that long-term presentations don’t go in front … .

But these are minor quibbles, formulated from a quiet corner of the Los Feliz branch of the L.A. Public Library. Go back to my magazine days and you’ll unearth all sorts of stripped-down interrogative and directive e-mails written during a frantic workday that could be taken as rude in the wrong context.

Thanks to my reader for forwarding the case study! I hope it’s the first of many.

If you’ve recently had an electronic exchange that left you confused or someone else peeved, forward it to thewritingguide @ gmail dot com. I’ll change all names and identifying elements to protect the innocent and then break it down for tone, phrasing, and the such. Remember, folks, we’re all writers now, and everyone can use a constructive edit once in a while.

(And a final, proud plug: if you are writing something sensitive or important—grant proposal, business plan, memo, e-mail, marketing copy—and require a professional review of the text, e-mail me at the above to discuss rates and deadlines.)

After two years, cast a wide net when seeking financing—apply to at least five different lenders.
There are many different reasons businesses might be audited.
The robber returned to the crime scene three different times.

Why can’t I delete different? In each example, why is the word necessary? I don’t think that removing it would change or obscure the writer’s meaning. It seems clear enough that in each case we’re referring to separate lenders/reasons/times. But if different seems so superfluous, why do I so often leave it in? I can’t tell what’s holding me back. I would love to hear different thoughts from different readers.

It’s a funny tic of the trade that I come across egregious misspellings of common words every day but a complex, foreign word like hors d’oeuvre—with its silent s, weird apostrophe, and vowel mash-up—is consistently correct. I guess it’s one of the few words that writers will take the time to look up. Good thing, too: if I drew it in a spelling bee, I have no doubt I’d get it wrong.