Mr.
Flintstone, Meet Mr. Jetson
By Michael Harling
When I first started writing, I used a typewriter-- a manual typewriter (you've
probably seen one in a museum). It was 1968; I was in the fifth grade and
finally starting to get serious about my writing.
The books I read on manuscript formatting back then were written in the 50s by
people who learned manuscript formatting in the 40s by reading books written in
the 30s. Surprisingly, this wasn't a problem; manuscript preparation hadn't
changed appreciably since the advent of the typewriter near the end of the
1800s. These were the days before proportional spaced fonts and laptop
computers; laser printers had not even been conceived of and Al Gore was years
away from inventing the Internet. (For you incredulous younger writers,
research, in those days, was conducted at a place called "the library" using
actual "reference books.")
Even so, I managed to bang out enough 12 point Courier in the prescribed manner
to eventually see my name in print. I enjoyed modest success over the ensuing
years, but never enough to promote my obsession beyond the rank of hobby. A few
years ago, however, I decided to begin treating my writing habit as a business
and the first step toward professionalism, I decided, would be a fresh look at
my long-standing methods.
I'm not adverse to change. Quite the contrary, as an IT professional I
understand that PCs theoretically possess the potential to enhance rather than
clutter our lives, and I was certain someone out there could help me understand
how to use a $1,200 multi-media system as something more than a glorified
typewriter. So, armed with this conviction, I began browsing writing websites.
The first thing I discovered was the fondness many web designers possess for
teeny, tiny fonts and garish backgrounds. Within 15 minutes, my eyes felt like
someone had buffed them with medium gauge sandpaper.
The next thing I discovered was that there is waaaaay too much information out
there. Each website linked to dozens of others and in no time I found myself
attempting fill my thimble-sized capacity for knowledge under a Niagara Falls of
data.
And the more I read, the more confused I became.
Formatting gurus still preach the gospel of one inch margins and double spacing,
but with e-mail replacing hard copies, what good is a well-formatted manuscript?
Hardly anyone accepts e-mail attachments, so the submissions have to be sent in
the body of the letter, and I have yet to find an e-mail program that cares if
your secondary page header includes your name and the page number.
And what about clips? You can't stuff a clip into an e-mail so, unless you have
electronic clips, you have no choice but to hope they will take your word for
it. ("I've been published in The New Yorker. You don't have to check, I'm
in there, honest.") With my luck, just about the time I amass a pack of
impressive online clips, editors will start to realize it is nearly as dangerous
to click on an unknown link as it is to open an unknown attachment. "Check out
my previously published articles at
www.youneed\/|@gra.com and www.enlargeyourwillie.net.)
In addition to this, years of habit practically forces me to begin every cover
letter with, "Please find enclosed . . ." This quaint politeness is dated at
best and, when put into an e-mail, comes across as ludicrous. "Enclosed?
Enclosed where? Inside my PC? I've opened up the drink holder but I don't see an
article in there."
"Please find inserted at the end of this e-mail" feels jarring and awkward but
no one seems to have come up with a suitable substitute beyond the admonition to
grab the editor by the throat and demand their attention with catchy openings
such as, "You've got a problem and I'm your solution." (To which I can only
imagine the editor responding, "No, the delete key is my solution.")
So how am I to format an electronic cover letter? Should I type "Encl:" three
lines down from my closing to let the editor know the article is there? And
should I add "CC: \mydocs\writing\stuffthatdoesntsucktoobadly\" so they'll
understand it isn't my only copy and they don't have to e-mail it back?
It's all very confusing and intimidating and I am confident that, despite e-mail
being in its infancy (although by now it should be getting acne and sprouting
facial hair), a protocol surely has been adopted by those in the know. And I am
equally confident that I'm shooting wide off whatever mark my correspondents are
expecting me to hit.
For example, I still put two spaces at the end of sentences, a holdover from the
days of non-proportional pica. According to my research, this practice is no
longer in vogue, and failure to break the habit is surely branding me as a rank
amateur. I also understand that words you want to appear in italics in the
published article should be, strangely enough, italicized in the manuscript,
instead of underlined.
The final straw is THE END, which I still signify with '-- 30 --' an old
newspaper throwback to the days of telegraphs.
During that long afternoon, the most useful thing I learned was that it is
better for your eyes, comprehension, and general mental health to print web
content out and read it as a document. It might seem like a waste of paper and a
duplication of effort but it is less of a strain and helps you retain
information more easily than reading from a computer screen.
Some times the old ways are best.
Michael Harling is an aspiring novelist
and freelance humorist whose work has appeared in a variety of newspapers and
magazines, including The National Lampoon, Writer's Digest, and the Journal of
Forensic Identification. Since becoming an accidental expatriate, he has turned
his attention to writing humorous essays about expatriate life and working on
his novel. Visit his website, Postcards From Across the Pond, at:
www.Lindenwald.com.
