Fragment (consider revising)

I’m not very intimidating. I’m slightly underweight, bespectacled, and have a red beard which generally induces furtive giggles rather than horrified screams. But there is one sphere of my life in which people seem to be daunted by my presence, so much so that they cower before me and beg forgiveness.

Earlier this year I started an editing course at Uni, and I’ve noticed that people have become increasingly self-conscious of the things they send to me via email, text or Facebook. I’ll often receive a message and then have it followed up by apologies for bad grammar, spelling or questionable word usage.

I suppose people think that because I’m considering a career in editing that I’m ‘always on’, seeking any and all syntactical errors in order to flex my editorial muscles. It’s like when people are scared to talk to psychologists because they assume they’re constantly analysing everything they say.

I don’t mind this newfound power. I like to imagine people in front of their keyboards, trembling as they type, hoping that they don’t mess up this most important of messages. They must think that I’m sitting, eyes closed, waiting for the message tone of their ill-fated communiqué. As soon as I hear it, my eyes fling open, I brandish my (digital) red pen like a sword and annihilate their feeble attempt at the written word. Like a warrior in a B-grade gladiator movie, I yell maniacally as I cut swathes through shoddily constructed sentences. ‘Passive voice! Pronoun without antecedent! COMMA SPLIIIIIICE!’

My secret shame, which isn’t really a secret at all once you’ve received a few replies from me, is that I’m guilty of being as sloppy as anybody when it comes to constructing messages. I’m a big believer in the formula that, when it comes to online communication, the hierarchy goes something like clarity > speed > grammatical correctness. There are instances when proper grammar is necessary (even beautiful), but the majority of text messages and emails don’t fall into this category, especially if time is of the essence. If I need to meet you under the big tree in two minutes, I’ll happily bash out something like ‘meat big tree 2 min’ and assume that, despite the horrific nature of that sentence, you’ll know what I mean.

Ninety per cent of the time I don’t even notice other people’s errors until they send a follow up email two seconds later, apologising for their use of ‘toward’ when they think perhaps it should have been ‘towards’, and then implore me not to think that they’re an idiot. But once a person has drawn my attention to their poor grammar or spelling, I can’t help but judge them for it, in spite of all my own shortcomings. I’m as petty as they come in that regard, and as soon as I think I’ve got an advantage over you, I’ll exploit it. Your best bet is to proofread your messages very carefully before you send them to me, and pray that I don’t notice all your misplaced clauses, lest I lower my estimation of you.