#$%&*!$ those Bloody Expletives!

Does an editor exist who doesn’t have a few pet peeves about the English language? I sometimes loftily like to think mine are better described as a passion for educating writers on how to improve at their craft. But truthfully, they’re also annoying pet peeves. In this article I’ll focus on just one of mine: a certain type of expletive.
Most people, if they think about expletives at all, probably think these are curse words. That’s correct, but incomplete, and I’m guessing that some readers will know that the definition of an expletive is much broader, but may not know exactly why.

The word expletive derives from the Latin “to fill out.” In fact, an expletive is any syllable, word, or word phrase that is either unnecessary to the correct syntactic structure of a sentence but can help to “fill it out,” or has no value except to perform a syntactic function in a sentence. Four kinds of expletives can be defined:

1) Interjections: curse words or profanity
2) Expletive attributives (profanity)
3) Syntactic expletives (profanity) as verbs and nouns
4) Syntactic expletives as subjects

The first is self-explanatory and obvious; curse words are filler words. Most of us know an interjection can be eliminated from a group of words while keeping the syntactic structure intact. Expletive attributives are equally self-explanatory. They can also be eliminated without spoiling the syntactic structure of the sentence, but they perform the function of adjectival or adverbial intensifiers, like the word bloody in the title of this article. These words can easily be replaced with other, less offensive adjectives, depending on the style, subject matter, and audience.

Profane expletives acting as verbs or nouns are necessary for the syntactic structure of the sentence, although they can also be easily replaced with other, less offensive words if necessary. The usage of “#$%&*!$” in my title is a typical example of an expletive as a verb, where I could easily substitute the verbs “curse” or “screw” or “banish.”

But the fourth kind, expletives as subjects, are the ones I want to focus on here—my real pet peeve. They fall under the general category of wordiness, one of the biggest problems I encounter in stylistic and copy editing. I’m always cutting unnecessary words and recasting sentences in such a way as to use the fewest words to obtain the greatest impact. Sometimes this is called vigorous or robust writing (as opposed to flabby writing), and it’s not that difficult to achieve.

This type of expletive’s great offenders are the words there and it when used as subjects followed by a verb form; e.g., there are, there is, there was, there has been, there were, it is, it was, it has been, etc. These words perform a syntactic function but often do little else except weaken the sentence. Yet often, an easy fix exists. (A rule of thumb is that if an easy fix doesn’t quickly come to mind, the construction can remain as is.) Some examples, followed by their more robust fixes:

• Weaker: There is a full moon shimmering in the evening sky.
• More robust: A full moon shimmers in the evening sky.
• Weaker: There is an easy fix for this problem.
• More robust: An easy fix exists for this problem.
• Weaker: There are many exceptions.
• More robust: Exceptions are many.
• Weaker: It has been a memorable day.
• More robust: The day has been memorable.

Constructions that force a related expletive, the word that (or who), are even more annoying. “There is...that...” and similar constructions serve only to sabotage sentences and contribute to flabby writing:

• Weaker: There is something in her character that worries me.
• More robust: Something in her character worries me.
• Weaker: It is an indisputable fact that Canadians are a polite bunch.
• More robust: Canadians are indisputably a polite bunch.
• Weaker: He was a person who was quick to empathize with others.
• More robust: He was quick to empathize with others.
• Weaker: There has been a recent spate of brilliant writing that can surely be attributed to editorial excellence.
• More robust: The recent spate of brilliant writing can surely be attributed to editorial excellence.

Interestingly, an expletive form is commonly used to describe the weather, as in “It is raining today.” An argument can be made that it in this case is a pronoun for the weather (even though the word weather has not been mentioned). In these cases, it is sometimes referred to as “the weather it.”

Exceptions are many, particularly in poetry or stylized prose where expletives are used to “fill out” the meter, or for emphasis:

• There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. (Shakespeare)
• It is he who deserves to be rewarded, not his father.

You may have noticed by now that I’ve easily avoided using any subject expletives in this article. In my initial draft, I had at least four, but revisions were easy. Yet the point isn’t to avoid subject expletives altogether, but to become aware of them so that, if an easy fix quickly comes to mind, you can recast the wordier, weaker construction to a more concise, vigorous one.

Tip # 10: The importance of copy editing

My membership in the Editors' Association of Canada includes a subscription to its listserve (chat forum). The subject of a current discussion thread is the value of a copy editor, which began with a complaint that if Dan Brown had been provided with a copy editor for his latest novel The Lost Symbol (and his previous novels), he didn't make much use of him/her.

This post led to a long discussion. Many of my colleagues are horrified at Dan Brown's appalling sentence construction and plot inconsistencies, all pointing to an apparent lack of good copy editing. One editor provided a link to a list compiled by Tom Chivers of telegraph.co.uk of Dan Brown's twenty worst sentences. (http://tinyurl.com/r6tye2.) This is an interesting read, and the comments following it are even more fascinating. In response, another of my colleagues wrote: "I read this list and was horrified. How come Brown's editor didn't catch these things? I don't edit fiction, so I'm a bit mystified about the process. Does a fiction author have so much control that s/he can ignore the editor's advice about such things? What about the reputation of the publisher, not to mention that of the editor?"

Another of my colleagues pointed to a link I just had to share here. This blog post is by Scott Berkun, a writer who decidedly knows the value of a copy editor. Here's a valuable excerpt from his post:

"I want to hear some tough stuff in the copy edit. How else will the book get better? A copy editor [should] force the writer to think more clearly, and catch bad assumptions they've made. I get final say; what do I have to lose by being questioned? Better now than in book reviews."

You can read the rest of the post at: www.scottberkun.com/blog/2009/what-copyediting-looks-and-feels-like/ And again, the comments following Mr. Berkun's post are particularly enlightening.

Another of my colleagues pointed out that the author, out of both and protocol and ethics, should have the last word in matters editorial. "Hey," I thought, "that's my tag line." (The last word is yours.) I do indeed agree strongly that the author should have the last word. But it's painful beyond description to read bad reviews, when the criticisms therein are the very same ones I offered that author to begin with! Another colleague, Shaun Oakey, drafted a note he'd like to send to reviewers, the essence of which stated:

"Please note that the errors you listed in your review were not the result of careless editing. In fact, the copy editor corrected all these errors. However, the author ignored the editor's strenuous arguments and insisted on stetting his precious misspellings, incorrect punctuation, inconsistently applied stylistic quirks, and logical lapses. All of these were pointed out to the author on several edit passes, but the author erased the corrections, saying he was certain his readers would understand they were his 'style' and in fact expected them and would have no trouble with them. He insisted his original was 'just fine.'"

So please remember, dear writers, that I will indeed let you have the last word. You're the author, after all. But you're paying me to edit your work, and I do so with a passion, eight to ten hours a day, often seven days a week. Please trust my expertise and experience!