UPDATE TIME: Another AP style poster, big bin of exercises and information about the second edition of “Exploring Mass Communication”

With a bunch of folk already heading back to school, it seemed like a good time to boot up the blog and get back to the weekly schedule. Then, my body said, “Hey, what would it be like if you coughed so hard, you blew a blood vessel in one of your eyes?” To that end, the blog might be spotty until further notice, but I’m working on it…

Let’s kick it off with some free goodies that might be useful this year:

EXERCISES ABOUND: A few months back, I put together a bin of random exercises that I thought might be helpful to folks. They included everything from in-class writing pieces to some AI-oriented activities.

As a lot of folks might not have been teaching a class that needed them last term, or this might be the first time you found the blog, here’s a link to the previous post on that topic and the directions on how to get the bin of goodies.

Speaking of helpful…

A NEW VERSION OF THE AP STYLE POSTER: One of the other asks from previous semesters was a giant “cheat-sheet poster” of AP style stuff that most people tended to look up quite often. Sage did a fantastic job of building something out, but it got a great improvement over the break.

Jean Norman, professor of emerging media and journalism at Weber State University, hit me up with a new version that she had tinkered with to make it more helpful for more people:

I’ve been working on my spring classes and am incorporating your AP Style poster into them. I am grateful for all the work that went into it. You may be aware that the federal government is requiring all online work to be accessible starting in April. So I ran this through the accessibility checks and fixed the issues on that front.

I am attaching the accessible version. You will notice that some of the subheads are now black instead of white. That is for contrast and readability. I thought you might want this version to share for those with online classes.

Jean’s reboot can be found here for download. Thanks again, Jean, for improving on this situation and helping me help other folks.

Speaking of improvements…

HELP ME HELP YOU IN “EXPLORING MASS COMMUNICATION” EDITION #2: I got an email over the break from my main man, Charles, over at Sage, who let me know that “Exploring Mass Communication” is a go for a second edition. I honestly can’t thank you all enough for putting faith in me and my stuff, let alone taking the time to revamp your classes to fit my odd whimsical approach to content provision.

With that in mind, I’ve got the giant post-it note set up for the second edition, which will definitely include a stand-alone chapter on artificial intelligence.

The wall was looking naked for a while there…

HOWEVER, there is still plenty of room to add, subtract, multiply and divide, so I’m looking to anyone out there who is using the book, considering the book, thinking about the concepts of books in general or who just wants to add their two cents to the mix:

  • What do you like that we should keep in the book?
  • What is missing that needs to be added to the book?
  • What did you think was a colossal waste of time in the book?
  • How can we improve the book? (Caveat: I have no say over the cost of this thing, but I have actively pushed for it to be cheaper than whatever else is out there.)

In short, help me help you so this book can be exactly what you would want it to be.

And finally, if you or someone you know is a Wisconsin high school journalist, here’s a cool thing for them:

An intern from the  Wisconsin Chapter of JEA hit me up with an ask to share this with anyone I knew who might be a good candidate. I figured you all knew more people than I did, so let’s start with the blog and move on from there.

In looking at the WisJEA board, I realized at least two of the people on it are former students, as is the intern who asked me for help promoting this. They are all amazing people, in spite of somehow being connected to me.

For more information on this great opportunity, you can click here.

 

Your AP Style Cheat Sheet Poster Has Arrived

Page one of three on the AP poster. Suitable for framing. Please do so, or at least prevent the kids from drawing a fake mustache on me. Then again, it’d be better than my real mustache, so whatever…

A while back, I asked you all what you might need or what might be helpful to your newsrooms and classrooms. One of the biggest asks was an AP style poster of some kind that would allow you to have some of the most frequent errors showcased and some of your worst pet peeves discussed.

I collected a bunch of your particular asks, went through what my students tended to screw up and leaned more than a bit into the “5-Minute Style Guide” from the immortal Fred Vultee of Wayne State University to pull this together. I then sent it off and asked Sage what they could do with it.

Well, the marketing team has come through once again. They built a three-page poster that you can download and print. The poster is 18 x 21 per page, so if you’ve got a mega printer, it’s easy peasy, I’m told. If not, you can merge a couple pages and send it to FedEx as an architectural document that will print two or more pages together. (This is how I print my pinball electric schematics; it’s impossible to chase circuit problems without them…)

Here’s the link to the PDF, so feel free to download it and share it with anyone you’d like.

Also, if you are looking for a book for the upcoming year, Sage included a list of recent titles across its properties on the third page. Even if you’re not interested in one of my books on that list, feel free to hit me up with a request for whichever one you are looking at and I’ll pass you along to Staci Wittek, who is one of the best people on Earth.

Hope this helps and hope you have a good rest of the semester!

Vince (a.k.a. The Doctor of Paper)

An Awesome AP Style Exercise That Will Get Your Kids Moving

I’m always a fan of people who have creative ways of helping students learn important tasks. That’s why I’m a mega-fan of Kameron Lunon of McNeese State University, who hit me up with an email back in 2021:

I wanted your thoughts on something. I’ve created (a series of AP rules and items) with the intention of taping them to students backs and they have to 1). Figure out who/what they are, but then 2). they have to pair themselves with their rule. After they’ve been paired, 3). The other students have to ask questions and try and figure out what the other students are.

I thought this was one of the coolest ways ever to do AP style, get students thinking creatively and helping them to remember key style rules. Kameron and I batted a few emails and texts back and forth about his plan to implement this. He also mentioned he’d video recorded it and would share it when it was edited.

As is the case with most things in journalism that lack deadlines, we both kind of lost track of time until last week, when he shared the final product with me. It’s absolutely worth the 12 minutes of watch time:

 

Kameron was nice enough to put together a quick walk-through for anyone interested in replicating the activity.

(Thanks again, Kameron! If anyone else out there has anything cool you’d like to share with the blog readers, just hit me up.)

Vince (a.k.a. The Doctor of Paper)

AP Peeves: What are the style errors your students (or you) frequently make or that bother you the most?

A colleague who oversees the student newspaper at her college had this question about potential ways to make life easier on her staffers:

Our student newspaper does not have any prerequisite, so I have students who know nothing about AP Style. I’d love to put a poster in our lab of AP highlights.  I found some AP Style highlight posters online, but they’re outdated. Before I create my own (instead of grading…), does anyone have one they use? Something editable to change every so often?

 

The Associated Press style book is the bible (not Bible) for media writers across the board. Despite students’ protestations to the contrary, the AP is not trying to torture them or kill their grades. Rather, the goal is to come up with some standardized conventions on important stylistics so that we best meet the needs of our readers and we’re all using a similar language to do so.

If I’m being honest, it’s almost impossible to have a complete handle on everything in the style book unless you have a photographic memory or are really anal retentive (or is that anal-retentive?) because things keep changing. One year, AP stated it made something like 168 changes, revisions and additions between the previous style book and that year’s model. This isn’t always a bad thing, as the additions can explain important global issues, provide more inclusive language or help clarify difficult concepts.

One of the key things I’ve tried to get across to the students is that most of getting to know the AP book is less about trying to know everything in it and more about trying to know what kinds of things the rules generally try to address. Therefore, I don’t necessarily need to know if I spell out “Avenue” with a full address or not, but I do need to know that there’s a rule on that, so I should open the book and make sure I’m sure about it.

However, when you’re trying to learn everything that’s going in there, it can feel like this:

(Yes,  I know they misspelled bar mitzvah… No, I don’t control the internet…)

For the “Dynamics of Media Writing,” “Dynamics of News Reporting and Writing” and “Dynamics of Media Editing” books, we included Fred Vultee’s 5-Minute AP Guide, which did a great job of giving students a quick look at the key rules in short order. That said, I also know that a) not everyone has the books, b) not everyone makes the same mistakes and c) the request was for a poster.

I pitched the good folks at Sage the idea of building a poster based on what you all say you see most often and/or hate the most when it comes to AP style errors.

So here’s the deal: I’m starting with a few basic AP peeves of mine and I’m asking you to add yours. You can add them in the comments below,  send them to me via the Contact page, hit me up on social media or get in touch with me however you otherwise would. As long as I get your peeve, I’ll do my best to add it to the poster.

Here we go:

  • Titles: Formal titles are capitalized only in front of a name, unless the name is part of a subordinate clause:
    • RIGHT: I met Mayor Jane Jones at the grocery store
    • RIGHT: I met the mayor at the grocery store.
    • RIGHT: I met the mayor, Jane Jones, at the grocery store.
  • Numbers: Unless there’s a specific exception, spell out numbers under 10. Anything 10 or higher is a figure. (Don’t worry, I’m adding numbers to this poster like a BOSS…)
  • Time of day: It’s a.m. and p.m. not AM/PM, A.M./P.M. or any other combo.
  • Affect/Effect: My personal demon. I have to look it up every time.

 

Your turn. Go for it!

Vince (a.k.a. The Doctor of Paper)

Let’s Reinforce the Driver’s Ed Rules of Journalistic Writing (A Throwback Post)

The view from my driveway this morning told me two things: 1) It wasn’t going to be an easy trip to the office and 2) at least 75% of my students would suddenly come down with food poisoning and couldn’t possibly make the 8 a.m. class.

The first decent snow of the year in Wisconsin provided me with the impetus for this week’s Throwback Thursday Post.

When it comes to weather like this, we generally have two types of drivers that account for 95 percent of the people on the road:

  • The driver who goes 12 mph, is constantly sliding all over the road, can’t avoid skids on curves and practically stops about every quarter mile. In spite of this, they will continue down the road and drive just fast enough to prevent you from passing them.
  • The driver who has the philosophy of “I got my jacked up 4 x 4 with brass truck nuts on it and God is my co-pilot, now let’s DO THIS!” as they fly past everyone at 95 mph on a two-lane road.

I spent my morning behind the former and noted a few of the latter had landed in the ditch all along Highway 21. (Dad’s theory on four-wheel drive was always, “It just means you get stuck deeper in the ditch.) Throughout my drive, I found myself going back to my days of driver’s ed, where I learned how to reverse the gas and brake process while making sure I didn’t stomp on a puppy. (It makes sense if you read the rest of this, I swear.)

I thought this post might also help those of us who are near the end of the semester and feeling a bit vexed by the students who STILL can’t seem to figure out how an attribution works, what a fact really is or why they should not have 21 adjectives in the average media-writing sentence.

As much as it seems like a good time to throw our hands up and say, “Screw it. Write however you want.” it’s actually a good time to double down on those “driver’s ed rules” of writing and pound them in even harder. The kids might not like it now, but they’ll come to value it later.

 


 

Teaching the Driver’s Ed Rules of Journalism

The guy who taught me driver’s ed at the “Easy Method” school was a balding man with a ginger mustache and sideburns to match. He told us to call him “Derkowski.” Not Mr. Derkowski or Professor Derkowski. Just Derkowski.

I remember a lot from that class, as he basically beat certain things into us like the company would murder his children if we didn’t have these rules down pat.

Hands on the wheel? 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock.

Pedals? Release the brake to go, release the gas to slow.

Feet? One foot only. We were required to tuck our left foot so far back into the seat that we could feel the seat lever with the heel of our shoe.

Seat belt? You touch that before you touch anything else in the car or you fail the test. (Or as one of my dad’s friends told me just before the exam, “Get in the car. Put on your seat belt. Then, have your mom hand you the keys through the window.”)

There are a dozen other things that still stick with me, ranging from the left-right-left view of the mirrors to the probably-now-unspeakable way to look behind you when backing up. (“Put your arm across the back of the seat and grab the head rest like you’re putting a move on your girl at the drive-in,” he told me once, I swear…)

After 30 years behind the wheel, I still can’t shake some of this stuff, and most of it is still really helpful. Do I use it all the time? No. (I’m sure the man would be having a stroke if he saw me eating a hash brown, drinking a Diet Coke and flipping through the radio all at the same time while flying down Highway 21 at 10 over…) However, it was important to have that stuff drilled into my brain so that I knew, when things got iffy, how best to drive safely.

When I had to drive 30 miles up I-94 in a white out, in a 1991 Pontiac Firebird that had no business being a winter car, you better believe I abided by the gospel of Derkowski.

I had my hands in the right spots, I was looking left-right-left before a lane change and I treated those pedals like I was stepping on puppies (Another one of his euphemisms, I believe; “You wouldn’t stomp on a puppy!” he’d yell at someone who did a jack-rabbit start or a bootlegger brake.)

It took two hours, more than four times what Mapquest would have predicted, as I slowly passed among the littering of cars and semis that had slid into ditches and side rails. Still, I got there alive.

The reason I bring all of this up is because with the advent of another semester (we still don’t start for two weeks, but I figure you all are up and running), many folks reading this blog will be teaching the intro to writing and/or reporting courses. That means in a lot of cases, students will be coming in to learn how to write the same way I came into that driver’s ed class so many years ago: All we know is what we have observed from other people.

My folks were good drivers, but even they were like lapsed Catholics when it came to the finicky points of the rules: Five miles over the limit was fine, seat belts were pretty optional and one hand on the wheel did the trick. Outside of them, the world looked like a mix of “Death Race” and “The Dukes of Hazzard.” Gunning engines at stop lights, squealing tires, the “Detroit Lean” and more were what I saw.

Students coming into writing classes have been writing for years, so they figure they’ll be fine at it. They also figure writing is writing, so what’s the big deal if I throw 345 adjectives into this hyperbolic word salad of a sentence and call it good? Nobody ever said it was a problem before…

The students need some basic “rules” pounded into the curriculum, repeated over and over like a mantra, to emphasize the things that we find to be most important to keeping them out of trouble in the years to follow. Mine are simple things: Noun-verb-object, check every fact like you’re disarming a bomb, attributions are your friend, one sentence of paraphrase per paragraph… It’s as close to a tattoo on their soul as they’re ever going to get.

It’s around this time I often get into random disagreements with fellow instructors about this stuff. Some are polite, while others react like I accused them of pulling a “Falwell Campari” moment. In most cases, the argument centers on the idea that there aren’t really rules for writing or that “Big Name Publication X” writes in 128-word sentences or that paragraphs often go beyond one sentence, so why am I teaching students these “rules” this way?

It’s taken me a long time to figure out how best to explain it, but here’s it is: I’m teaching driver’s ed for journalism.

In other words, you will eventually be on your own out there and you won’t have your instructor yelling at you about where your hands are or if you looked at the right mirror at the right time. You probably won’t die if you drive without your foot all the way back against the seat, nor will not maintaining a “car-length-per-10-mph” spacing gap lead to a 42-car pile up on the interstate.

In that same vein, you won’t automatically lose a reader if your lead is 36 words, or confuse the hell out of them if you don’t have perfect pronoun-antecedent agreement. Libel suits aren’t waiting around every corner if you don’t attribute every paragraph and if you accidentally (or occasionally deliberately) tweak a quote, you won’t end up in the unemployment line.

However, if the basics get “The Big Lebowski” treatment up front, there’s no chance of those students being able to operate effectively when the chips are down. (There’s a reason the military teaches people to march before it teaches people how to drive a tank.) Until those basics are mastered, the students will never know when it’s acceptable to break a rule or why it makes sense to do so.

Of all the things I remember about Derkowski (other than that godawful straw cowboy-looking hat thing he wore) was that even though he enforced the rules with an iron fist, he could always tell us WHY the rule mattered and WHY we needed to abide by it. Say what you want to about the items listed in my “this is a rule” diatribe above, but I can explain WHY those things are important in a clear and coherent way. Even if the students didn’t like them, they at least understood them.

Sure, over the years, the rules change (Apparently 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock is now a death sentence…) with AP apparently deciding to keep all of us on our toes almost to the point of distraction. We adapt to them as instructors and the ones that are most germane to the discipline, we write into our own version of gospel.

We also know that we’re not going to be there to press the point when a former student at a big-name publication uses “allegedly” in a lead. (That doesn’t mean we still don’t. Just ask any of my former students and they can tell you about conversations we’ve had about quote leads and lazy second-person writing.)

I tell the students once they get off of “Filak Island,” they can do it however they want or however their boss wants. (I also tell them to ask their bosses WHY they want to use allegedly or randomly capitalize certain words. In most cases, the answer is silence mixed with “duh face,” I’m told.) However, my job is to teach them the rules of the road, and I think that’s how a lot of us view things in those early classes.

I will admit, however, that it’s fun when I hear back from a long-graduated student who tells me how they can still hear my voice in the back of their head when they’re writing something. (It’s even more fun when they tell me how shorter leads or noun-verb attributions are now the rule at work.)

If we do it right, enough of the important things will stick, they’ll revert to the basics when in danger and they’ll be just fine, even without us there to pump the brakes.

Four options for attribution verbs: Said, Said, Said, Said (A throwback post)

I am constantly amazed at what students will do to avoid using “said” as a verb of attribution. I’ve seen the standards of “claimed” and “argued” and “joked” and “noted” and “mentioned” and whatever else, so I’ve gotten used to hammering those down.

A few “debated” and “provided evidence of” showed up from time to time. This one, however, boggled my mind:

“Biology and environmental studies is something I like and want to make a career out of,” Vang indicates passionately.

For fear of wondering if this kind of thing was involved, let’s just go with “said.”

The throwback post below explains why:

 

Said: A perfect word and a journalist’s best friend

Said.

Four letters, one word, simple perfection.

As far as verbs of attribution go, not much else can compete with “said,” even though it seems every student I have taught has a burning desire to find something else to use. As much as I don’t like blaming educators at other levels for anything (Hell, I’m not going to teach ninth graders without combat pay and a morphine drip…), I remember seeing a poster like this in a classroom while judging a forensics contest and almost immediately broke out in hives:

SaidIsDead

The rationale behind this approach is that “said is boring, so let’s do something different.” I might also point out that riding inside a car that is driving down the proper side of the street is boring, but that doesn’t mean you should try roof surfing on your roommate’s Kia Sorento while driving 80 mph the wrong way on the interstate just because it’s different.

If you want to write fiction, feel free to give any of verbs things a shot; Nobody’s going to argue with you about an orc “warning” a wizard about something. However, in journalism,  you actually have to prove things happened, which is why “said” works wonders.

“Said” has four things going for it:

  1. It is provable: You can demonstrate that someone opened up his or her mouth and let those words fall out of his or her head. You don’t know if that person believes them or feels a certain way about them. You can prove the person said them, especially if you record that person.
  2. It is neutral: If one person “yelled” something and the other person “said” something, one person might appear angry or irrational while the other person appears calm and rational. It shifts the balance of power ever so slightly to that calmer source and thus creates an unintended bias. We have enough trouble in the field these days with people accusing us of being biased without avoiding it in the simplest of ways.
  3. It answers the “says who?” question: Attributions are crucial to helping your readers understand who is making what points within your story. It allows readers to figure out how much weight to give to something within your piece. Simply telling someone who “said” it helps the readers make some decisions in their own minds.
  4. You’re damned right it’s boring: Name the last time that you heard anyone actively discussing verbs of attribution within a story outside of a journalism class or some weird grammar-nerd drum circle. Exactly. “Said” just does the job and goes on with its work. Verbs of attribution are like offensive linemen in football: If they’re doing their job, you don’t notice them at all. When they do something wrong, that’s when they gain attention. “Said” is boring and it is supposed to be. Don’t draw attention to your attributions. Their job isn’t to dazzle the readers.
    (The one I’ll never forget was one someone wrote for a yearbook story about a student with a mobility issue: “Bascom Hill is a challenge for anyone,” laughed Geoff Kettling, his dark eyes a’sparklin’. It was quickly switched to “Geoff Kettling said.“)

Let’s look at the three verbs most students tend to use instead of “said” and outline what makes them dicey:

Thinks: This is a pretty common one, in that most people being interviewed are asked to express their opinions on a topic upon which they have given some modicum of thought.

“Principal John Smith thinks the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

First, unless you have some sort of mutant power, on par with Dr. Charles Xavier, you don’t know what this guy thinks. Mind readers are excused from this lesson, but for the rest of us, we have no idea what he actually thinks.

He might be doing this because he’s tired of bumping into kids in the hallway who don’t look up from their phones during passing period. He might be thinking, “All that charging going on in classrooms is killing our electricity budget. How can I get this to stop?” He might be worried about students taking videos of teachers smoking weed in the faculty lounge or beating the snot out of kids. We don’t know what he’s thinking. We do, however, know what he said:

“Principal John Smith said the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

Second, and more inconsequentially, you have a weird verb-tense shift when you go from past tense to present with “thinks.” You can’t fix this the way you would fix a “says/said” verb shift by going with “thought,” as that implies he previously held an opinion but has since changed it:

“Principal John Smith thought the banning of mobile phones in school would lead to improved grades for his students, but the latest data reveals a sharp drop in GPA across all grades.”

 

Believes: This one suffers from much the same issues as “thinks,” in that you can’t demonstrate a clearly held belief in pretty much anything. Just ask all those 1980s televangelists who “believe” in the sanctity of marriage and then they were caught fooling around with the church secretary or some sex worker named “Bubbles” or something.

I use this example in my class each term, where I tell them, “I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught.” They don’t know if I believe that, or if I just professed the same belief to my other writing class. They don’t know if I go into my office and break out the “emergency scotch” and weep for the future of literacy after teaching their class. What they do know is that I said that statement.

You can either use it as a direct quote:

“I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught,” Filak said.

Or, if you really have a passionate love of my believable nature, go with this:

Filak said he believes this is the best writing for the media class he has ever taught.

 

According to: This is the one I waffle on more than occasionally, with the caveat that it not become a constant within the piece. It also needs to be applied fairly to sources.

This attribution works well for documents, although the term “stated” works just as well:

According to a police report, officers arrived to find the butler trying to capture an increasingly agitated lemur that had already bitten one woman in the face.

Pretty simple and easy, and nobody (other than the one woman) gets hurt. Here’s where it becomes problematic:

According to Bill Smith, Sen. John Jones has run a campaign of falsehoods and negative attacks.

Jones said Smith is upset he’s behind in the polls and is desperate to make up ground.

When one source gets an “according to” and the other gets a “said,” you have a situation in which it sounds like you believe one person and think the other person is just yammering. It comes across as if to say, “According to this twerp, X is true. However, the other person clearly and calmly says something that is actually accurate.”

How do you avoid all of these problems? Stick with said. It’s like Novocaine: Keep applying it and it works every time.

That said, if you want to have fun with verbs of attribution, enjoy the ridiculous ones we gathered below for your reading pleasure. (Whatever happens, don’t blame me if you use one of these on your reporting final…)

“I just can’t shake this head cold,” he sniffed.

“I’m going to have to draw you a picture to get you to understand this,” he illustrated.

“Of course I’m chewing tobacco!” he spat.

“All I know is, I love doing a ton of cocaine,” he snorted.

“This is the saddest movie ever,” he cried.

“Bethany said I was being distant, but it’s her fault we broke up,” he ex-claimed. “And that One Direction CD is totally mine as well.”

“I love this vintage, but I can’t remember what vineyard it comes from,” he whined.

“I used to have a poodle named Princess, but my ex-girlfriend stole her,” he bitched.

“Get me the phone so I can get a hold of Mom,” he called.

“Whose dog is making all that noise?” he barked.

“My empty stomach speaks for itself,” he growled.

“Don’t forget my Post-Its!” he noted.

“I know, I know, I know,” he echoed.

When to “use” partial “quotes” to make them “effective”

Prepare the "Laser" - Dr Evil Austin Powers | Make a Meme

Not “exactly” a “powerful” use of a “partial quote.”

The point of a partial quote is to use quality paraphrase to set up a word, word pairing or short phrase to make a significant impact on the story you plan to tell. For some reason, a number of the stories I’ve been reading aren’t written with that mission in mind.

Here are a few examples where the authors used partial quotes in relatively ineffective ways:

People close to President Trump said the indictment caught him and his advisers “off guard.” 

On the day of the shooting, she informed her boss that the student was in a “violent mood,” the complaint alleges.

Lilly Lima noted that coffeehouse does “have lattes,” but that she preferred other forms of coffee that were missing.

In each case, if you took the quote marks away, you would not lose any impact because the words aren’t particularly valuable or special as they relate to the story. In addition, you lessen the impact of any future partial quotes because you’re over using them.

Here are three ways in which writers can use partial quotes effectively, based on a few important premises:

(EDITOR’S NOTE: These words or phrases were actually used in the media and some of them are quite harsh. Not all of them are used directly from the same source, or in the exact sentence the original writer built, but they are real. I wanted to flag folks who tend to worry about “unnecessary cursing” and other vulgarities. Still, that’s one of the key reasons we use partial quotes: Someone says something we surely don’t want readers think came from us.)

With that in mind, here we go…

EXAMPLE 1: A source uses a word or phrase that is vulgar or otherwise offensive and we want to make clear what that source said without letting the reader think we, as the writer, came up with it:

An NCAA investigator referred to UNLV basketball coach Jerry Tarkanian as a “rug merchant,” a term Tarkanian’s wife said was a slur against her husband’s Armenian heritage.

An employee at a Domino’s Pizza in Michigan was fired after he cursed out a customer and called her a “fucking retard.”

Mardela Springs Mayor Norman Christopher faced a hostile group of citizens this week after referring to Martin Luther King, Jr. Day as “Buckwheat’s birthday.”

The last thing you would want as a writer is to have anyone thinking you said that stuff. The quote marks make it clear you are merely conveying the content so that the readers can judge for themselves how upset they should be. (My answer would be pretty damned upset…)

EXAMPLE 2: Someone uses a phrase that is eloquent, unique or has some kind of panache in describing someone or something. It could be clever or insulting or merely just odd, but you want to use the words and they’re clearly not yours:

During his SNL monologue, comedian Dave Chappelle referred to Senate candidate Hershel Walker as “demonstratively stupid.”

The plan to hire retired sex workers as crossing guards was “a case of absolute dipshittery,” the mayor said in an email to the city council members who proposed the bill.

Truman shot back that Eisenhower, who’d later win the election, knows less about politics “than a pig knows about Sunday.”

Quotes themselves are intended to allow a source to use language in a way that provides vibe and feel to a piece, so this is a pretty good way of doing it, if a complete sentence or two aren’t going to work.

EXAMPLE 3: Someone says something that comes back to bite them in the keester.

Despite saying Saturday that he would remain the university’s president for “the foreseeable future,” Carleton James announced Monday he had taken a job with an online educational organization and would be gone by semester’s end.

Gov. John Smith said at Tuesday’s Education Roundtable that improving the state’s schools was his “No. 1 focus,” despite stating less than 24 hours earlier that his “No. 1 focus” this year would be crime reduction.

A lot of times, people say things and it becomes pretty clear that there is no way they mean what they say. To that end, using their own words to impeach their character can do a world of good for your readers.

Hope this “helps” you and your students make “better use” of partial quotes.

(OK, I’ll “stop” now…)

Vince (a.k.a. The Doctor of Paper)

A handy guide for navigating gender terminology via the Washington Post

Although it’s about a year old now, the Washington Post’s guide to gender, LGBTQ issues and other similar topics has started making the rounds again. The Post’s approach is both educational and explanatory, outlining what it is doing and why it thought publishing this would be helpful:

Depending on one’s life experiences, it can be challenging to navigate some of the terms of the debate. Informed by the guidance of a number of organizations, including GLAAD, the Trans Journalists Association, InterAct, the American Medical Association and the Association of LGBTQ Journalists, The Washington Post has compiled a glossary of the terms and concepts that show up in our coverage.

The glossary below is not comprehensive, and there is ongoing conversation about which language is most appropriate and accurate. This guide is intended to be a clear and accurate starting point to help readers better understand gender issues.

The organizations that the Post listed have provided guidance to the media over the years with style guides that have defined similar terms, made specific requests for eschewing certain words and generally provided journalists with ways to speak more inclusively and intelligently on these topics.

The Post’s effort is helpful in providing additional context to its readers regarding specific terms they might have seen in the paper’s coverage. It also provides that mainstream voice that can convince other publications to make similar decisions in terms, explanations and approaches. As much as journalists tend to think of themselves as ahead of the curve on what’s happening around them, a lot of us tend to stick to our own tried-and-true approach until “the big dogs” make a move. (This is why we tend to cling to our AP style books.)

For a full look at the Post’s ongoing efforts and the glossary itself, here’s the link.

Hope it helps.

Simple solutions for frequent writing problems: How and where to attribute

(EDITOR’S NOTE: This post is a mix of previous content as well as some updated material that hits on the topic at hand. It’s not that I worry about self-plagiarizing, but if you’re anything like me at this point in the semester, being reassured that you’re not actually losing your mind and that you might have seen this before is pretty helpful. — VFF)

In an attempt to help writers fix simple problems that have tended to crop up in the pieces I’ve been grading lately, we’re going to spend this week giving each one a quick look with some examples of things that went wrong and some simple solutions.

Today’s menu item: Attributions

The purpose of an attribution is to attach a source to a statement so the reader can figure out who said it and how much credence to lend that statement. Without attributions, the readers could assume the material is coming from the journalists themselves, and thus lead to all sorts of concerns about opinions and bias.

Let’s jump into this:

WHEN TO ATTRIBUTE: I often tell students I’ve never seen anyone get fired because they attributed too much. That said, there are plenty of instances out there where failing to attribute landed a writer in hot water. (My favorite is the Richard Jewell situation, which we’ve covered here before.)

In short, attribute almost everything. Here are a few exceptions:

  • The content is a fact, at the level of “water is wet.” (“Wisconsin is a state,” is the kind of statement you don’t need to attribute to an atlas or Google Maps. “Wisconsin is the BEST state,” will require an answer to “says who?”)
  • You witnessed the actions yourself and are reporting those observations. I tell my kids that if a former student walked into our classroom and beat the hell out of me and they saw it happen, they could write everything they saw without attribution for the student newspaper. That said, if a reporter from the paper showed up after I was beaten bloody and asked, “What happened?” that reporter would need to attribute that information to whomever did the explaining.

ATTRIBUTION STRUCTURE AND PLACEMENT: I’m a massive pain in the keester when it comes to this in my classes and I attribute that to the ancient nuns who taught me grammar with a passion for sentence diagrams. (It also helped that they backed up their play with steel-ruler discipline.)

Attributions should be structured in a noun-verb format:

  • Mayor Jane Smith said.
  • Johnson said.
  • he said.

NOT verb-noun

  • said Mayor Jane Smith.
  • said Johnson.
  • said he.

I get into arguments over this on occasion, including one with a former faculty member that evolved into a tenure-battle/land-war situation. Like most things, I try to explain WHY this is the way it is and it usually works on the kids. (That former faculty member is another story that can’t be told without alcohol and a non-disclosure agreement…)

Here’s my logic:

It’s grammatically sound: In the basic writing courses, we teach students the inherent value of active voice and why it provides advantages over passive voice. “Bill hit Bob” is tighter, stronger and shorter than “Bob was hit by Bill.”

Attributions are basically just tiny sentences, so this same approach applies. What an attribution says in active voice is “Smith said WORDS” while a passive-voice attribution says “These words were said by Smith.”

When you have a choice to go with grammar or run counter to grammar, it’s usually better to go with grammar, unless there is a compelling reason. (Example: Grammar dictates that you use “whom” with the objective case and that you not end a sentence with a preposition, as that leaves it “dangling.” That said, you wouldn’t ever get in a bar fight and yell, “DO YOU KNOW WITH WHOM YOU ARE MESSING?”)

It’s structurally logical: This addresses that previous kind of example, in that you want things to sound normal. For reasons past my understanding, some writers think “said Smith” sounds normal, even though they wouldn’t use that same structure if the attribution required a pronoun instead. (said she or said he)

Also, we don’t do this with other verbs, as it would sound flat-out goofy:

  • Ran I to the store to pick up a gallon of milk.
  • Won we first place at the track and field finals.
  • Proposed he to his girlfriend.

The minute I see that approach taking hold, I’ll buy into “said Smith” and then quickly descend into an underground bunker for the rest of eternity.

It only has one purpose: The point of an attribution is to answer “who says?” That’s it.

The argument I’ve seen over the years is, “Well, if I reverse the noun and the verb, I can add a bunch of information to the attribution, like ‘said Smith, who graduated from Notre Dame in 1949.’ This adds value.”

First of all, it’s an attribution, not the front pocket on your suitcase where you cram all the other crap you forgot to put elsewhere. Second, by stuffing the material in there, your readers might miss it, as we’ve trained them over the years to mentally skip past the attribution and simply acknowledge it’s there.

If you want to put additional content into your story, add it to the paraphrase that introduces the quote and let the attribution just do its simple job.

In terms of where to put the attribution, it’s a pretty simple set of guidelines:

  • For your paragraphs of paraphrase, put the attribution at the front if the “who” is more important than what they’re saying. If the “what” is more important than the “who,” do the opposite.
  • For single-sentence direct quotes, follow the same basic rule. For multi-sentence quotes, put the attribution after the first full sentence. This will allow the readers to engage with the quote, but it will tell them who said the information quickly enough to know how much weight they should give that quote.

VERBS OF ATTRIBUTION: As far as verbs of attribution go, not much can compete with “said,” even though it seems every student I have taught has a burning desire to find something else to use. As much as I don’t like blaming educators at other levels for anything (Hell, I’m not going to teach ninth graders without combat pay and a morphine drip…), I remember seeing a poster like this in a classroom while judging a forensics contest and almost immediately broke out in hives:

SaidIsDead

The rationale behind this approach is that “said is boring, so let’s do something different.” I might also point out that riding inside a car that is driving down the proper side of the street is boring, but that doesn’t mean you should try roof surfing on your roommate’s Kia Sorento while driving 80 mph the wrong way on the interstate just because it’s different.

If you want to write fiction, feel free to give any of verbs things a shot; Nobody’s going to argue with you about an orc “warning” a wizard about something. However, in journalism,  you actually have to prove things happened, which is why “said” works wonders.

“Said” has four things going for it:

  1. It is provable: You can demonstrate that someone opened up his or her mouth and let those words fall out of his or her head. You don’t know if that person believes them or feels a certain way about them. You can prove the person said them, especially if you record that person.
  2. It is neutral: If one person “yelled” something and the other person “said” something, one person might appear angry or irrational while the other person appears calm and rational. It shifts the balance of power ever so slightly to that calmer source and thus creates an unintended bias. We have enough trouble in the field these days with people accusing us of being biased without avoiding it in the simplest of ways.
  3. It answers the “says who?” question: Attributions are crucial to helping your readers understand who is making what points within your story. It allows readers to figure out how much weight to give to something within your piece. Simply telling someone who “said” it helps the readers make some decisions in their own minds.
  4. You’re damned right it’s boring: Name the last time that you heard anyone actively discussing verbs of attribution within a story outside of a journalism class or some weird grammar-nerd drum circle. Exactly. “Said” just does the job and goes on with its work. Verbs of attribution are like offensive linemen in football: If they’re doing their job, you don’t notice them at all. When they do something wrong, that’s when they gain attention. “Said” is boring and it is supposed to be. Don’t draw attention to your attributions. Their job isn’t to dazzle the readers.
    (The one I’ll never forget was one someone wrote for a yearbook story about a student with a mobility issue: “Bascom Hill is a challenge for anyone,” laughed Geoff Kettling, his dark eyes a’sparklin’. It was quickly switched to “Geoff Kettling said.“)

Let’s look at the three verbs most students tend to use instead of “said” and outline what makes them dicey:

Thinks: This is a pretty common one, in that most people being interviewed are asked to express their opinions on a topic upon which they have given some modicum of thought.

“Principal John Smith thinks the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

First, unless you have some sort of mutant power, on par with Dr. Charles Xavier, you don’t know what this guy thinks. Mind readers are excused from this lesson, but for the rest of us, we have no idea what he actually thinks.

He might be doing this because he’s tired of bumping into kids in the hallway who don’t look up from their phones during passing period. He might be thinking, “All that charging going on in classrooms is killing our electricity budget. How can I get this to stop?” He might be worried about students taking videos of teachers smoking weed in the faculty lounge or beating the snot out of kids. We don’t know what he’s thinking. We do, however, know what he said:

“Principal John Smith said the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

Second, and more inconsequentially, you have a weird verb-tense shift when you go from past tense to present with “thinks.” You can’t fix this the way you would fix a “says/said” verb shift by going with “thought,” as that implies he previously held an opinion but has since changed it:

“Principal John Smith thought the banning of mobile phones in school would lead to improved grades for his students, but the latest data reveals a sharp drop in GPA across all grades.”

 

Believes: This one suffers from much the same issues as “thinks,” in that you can’t demonstrate a clearly held belief in pretty much anything. Just ask all those 1980s televangelists who “believe” in the sanctity of marriage and then they were caught fooling around with the church secretary or some sex worker named “Bubbles” or something.

I use this example in my class each term, where I tell them, “I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught.” They don’t know if I believe that, or if I just professed the same belief to my other writing class. They don’t know if I go into my office and break out the “emergency scotch” and weep for the future of literacy after teaching their class. What they do know is that I said that statement.

You can either use it as a direct quote:

“I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught,” Filak said.

Or, if you really have a passionate love of my believable nature, go with this:

Filak said he believes this is the best writing for the media class he has ever taught.

 

According to: This is the one I waffle on more than occasionally, with the caveat that it not become a constant within the piece. It also needs to be applied fairly to sources.

This attribution works well for documents, although the term “stated” works just as well:

According to a police report, officers arrived to find the butler trying to capture an increasingly agitated lemur that had already bitten one woman in the face.

Pretty simple and easy, and nobody (other than the one woman) gets hurt. Here’s where it becomes problematic:

According to Bill Smith, Sen. John Jones has run a campaign of falsehoods and negative attacks.

Jones said Smith is upset he’s behind in the polls and is desperate to make up ground.

When one source gets an “according to” and the other gets a “said,” you have a situation in which it sounds like you believe one person and think the other person is just yammering. It comes across as if to say, “According to this twerp, X is true. However, the other person clearly and calmly says something that is actually accurate.”

How do you avoid all of these problems? Stick with said. It’s like Novocaine: Keep applying it and it works every time.

GAME TIME: Spring Break AP Style Quiz

18 Spring Break Memes For Those Who Get Time Off, And Those Who Wish They  Did

EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m currently working on a post that isn’t quite soup yet, so instead of rushing it, I decided to offer this fun little exercise for folks who desperately want both Spring Break (or is it spring break?) and improvements in their students’ AP style to come as quickly as possible. -VFF

See what you know about AP style with this quiz on our favorite time of the spring.

You don’t have to establish an account to play. It’s 10 questions and you will be judged on speed and accuracy.

Take a screen shot of your score and post it everywhere! Challenge a professor (who likely wants this break more than you do) and earn bragging rights for the year.

CLICK HERE TO BEGIN.

Word choices matter (or why a judge thought people who were shot to death couldn’t be called “victims” of the shooting)

Journalists must have a decent vocabulary to make sure they can communicate effectively to an audience. To assist my students in this regard, kids in my Feature Writing class have been required to smell or feel a mystery substance without being able to see it. They then have to generate 15 words that describe the sensation accurately and clearly.

(If you want to see the “Feel it” Lab or the “Smell it” Lab in action, feel free to click on those links.)

The point I was trying to make in those lessons was that distinctions in verbiage convey specific images to your audience. There’s a difference between “sticky” and “slimy”  or between “cool” and “cold.” In taking a whiff from the mystery bags, students found themselves debating among  the terms “scent” and “odor” and “stench.”

Distinctions like this can make the difference between a vivid word picture and a fuzzy mental image, but really can’t do much harm to the readers or the field. A recent court decision in Wisconsin, however, demonstrates how word choices can literally shape opportunities for justice.

Kyle Rittenhouse is on trial for his actions during a protest in Kenosha, Wisconsin, in August. 2020. Rittenhouse shot three people, killing two of them, as part of a collection of citizens who came down to “monitor” the civil unrest that occurred after police officer Rusty Sheskey shot Jacob Blake seven times as  Blake was getting into his SUV. Rittenhouse is currently on trial for these shootings and the judge in the case made a specific requirement as to how participants in the case should refer to certain people involved:

During Rittenhouse’s upcoming trial on homicide charges, prosecutors must refer to the two people he fatally shot — Joseph Rosenbaum and Anthony Huber — and one he wounded — Gaige Grosskreutz — as Mr. Rosenbaum, Mr. Huber and Mr. Grosskreutz, or the people who were shot, or as to Rosenbaum and Huber, the decedents.

They may not be referred to as victims.

<SNIP>

Assistant District Attorney Thomas Binger countered by seeking to bar defense lawyers from calling the men “looters, rioters, arsonists or any other pejorative term.”

While looting, rioting and arson occurred in the two nights before the shooting, Binger argued that unless there’s specific proof Rosenbaum, Huber and Grosskreutz were engaged in any of those actions, and that Rittenhouse had seen it, the labels are even more “loaded” than what judge ascribes to “victim.”

Schroeder was not swayed.

We have seen this problem before in how certain words can lead readers to have certain emotional reactions. The most famous one is this comparison of people during Hurricane Katrina trying to survive by scrounging for supplies. While the caption on the photo of the Black man shows him “looting,” the caption for the white couple has them “finding” supplies.

In both cases, people were taking items necessary to their survival from places without paying for them (primarily because everything was destroyed or abandoned at that time, and nobody showed up to run the register at the local convenience store). However, the “looting” tag carries with it a criminal vibe while the “finding” tag seems to indicate the people just were walking around and discovered the stuff under a pile of leaves on the sidewalk or something.

Feminist scholars have long noted the incongruity in language as to how men and women are described. A few common pairings include:

  • Women are “pushy” while men are “assertive”
  • Women are “bossy” while men “take charge”
  • Women are “stubborn” while men are “persistent”

We could go on for days, but the point is that language matters in how we tell stories. Here are a couple hints to improve your word selection when it comes to potential biases in language:

 

WOULD YOU USE THE DESCRIPTOR OF THE SITUATION WAS REVERSED?: One of the key ways to determine fairness in language or description is to turn the tables and see if it still works for you. My favorite example comes from Jim Bouton’s book, “Ball Four,” in which one of his teammates notes that he wouldn’t mind the papers referring to him as “the black first baseman” if only they would refer to his counterpart as “the white first baseman.”

The same is true of descriptions like “the female mayor” or “the woman CEO” and so forth. Calling attention unnecessarily to an attribute that you wouldn’t flip the other way is clearly an indicator that you might want to rethink that descriptor. I can’t remember seeing headlines about “the white quarterback” or “the male company president” and I bet most of you can’t either. Same thing with references to a “straight wedding” or a “cis gender politician.”

This doesn’t mean all descriptors of any kind like this should be ignored or eliminated. What it does mean is that you should think about why you’re doing what you’re doing and see if it makes sense.

 

DOES THE TERM HAVE A LOADED MEANING?: I can’t think of any time I’ve heard someone described as “a looter” or “a rioter” and had a positive reaction to that person. Those terms carry with them some negative baggage.  Conversely, I’ve seen an array of meanings ascribed to the term “clowning around” that range from bright and happy to racist.

Calling a member of the city council a “bureaucrat” can be technically accurate, as that person is a governmental figure, but it also brings up an image of someone who cares more about laws than people or who obstructs important actions by adhering to the letter of the law.

Calling a new policy a “reform” can be technically correct, as it will reshape the legal landscape in regard to the the way something is done, thus re-forming something. However, the term carries with it a positive meaning that leads people to believe something is a good idea. For example, a plan to cut benefits to working parents who are operating just above the poverty line can be deemed “welfare reform” and seen in a positive light.

The one I just saw that made me think was “unskilled labor.” In a post on this term, someone noted that all labor is skilled. If you took Bill Gates and stuck him with a road construction crew, he would be as lost as can be. If you took Jamie Dimon and put him in charge of a Naperville McDonald’s during lunch rush, he would probably end up with a crowd of really angry people and some severe grease burns. The term “unskilled labor” is meant to diminish the value of what certain people do and thus make it easier to discount them or pay them less.

All sorts of terms have a particular angle on them, such as “pro-life” for people who are against abortion rights, to “anti-death,” to people who opposed capital punishment. The question you need to ask is if your choice of words is providing bias or giving favor to a particular side of a debate.

 

DOES THAT WORD MEAN WHAT YOU THINK IT MEANS: Whenever I’m writing and I’m half guessing at the meaning of a word, I’m mystically transported back to eighth grade and hearing my mother’s voice yelling from another room, “Look it up!  You’ve got a dictionary in there!”

Systemic Racism: “I Don&#39;t Think That Word Means What You Think It Means” – Crafted For All

We talked about this a bit during one of The Junk Drawer posts, where a reporter talked about this lead and word choice:

MILWAUKEE — In the immediate aftermath of a legendary performance to close out the 2021 NBA Finals and win a championship for the first time in his career, Milwaukee Bucks superstar Giannis Antetokounmpo declared that he signed his five-year, supermax contract extension prior to the season because “there was a job that had to be finished,” and that staying in Milwaukee meant doing it the “hard way.”

Aside from the 83 other problems we noted, the use of the word “aftermath” is wrong, given that it  means “the consequences or aftereffects of a significant unpleasant event.”

I still love the student who finally learned after years of using “penultimate” to describe something that was super-extra ultimate, the word actually meant “second to last.”

The point is to know the meaning of the word before you use it.

That’s an important point I hoped I emphasized in that penultimate paragraph.

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