Only use “times” — or if you must, “x” — when indicating increases, never when indicating a decrease.

Let’s pick on Wired first. From this cover story:

Most of the software we use today has its origins in the pre-Internet era, when storage was at a premium, machines ran thousands of times slower, and applications were sold in shrink-wrapped boxes for hundreds of dollars.

Anyone in high tech is used to seeing performance increases illustrated by a number and an “x”: it means that the current version of the part in question (and here’s another familiar techy term) is “orders of magnitude” faster than a previous version.

Faster … remember that. We’ll come back to it.

The author of the Wired article wanted to emphasize, even exaggerate (nothing wrong with that) the difference between ye ole computers of the 1960s and 70s and today. But “times” is throwing everything off, because times means to multiply. You can’t multiply and get a product that’s less than what you started off with. But that’s exactly what the author is asking you to do, because it’s “times slower.”

Since when is anything times slower?

AP’s directive on using decreasing adverbs is to use “fewer” for individual items, “less” for bulk or quantity. Yet this still doesn’t really help the author of the Wired article. If I had edited this story, I would’ve rephrased “thousands of times slower” to something rather innocuous but still accurate, like “much slower,” “orders of magnitude slower” or “at a fraction of the speed of today’s processors.”

Unfortunately, attempting to actually quantify “thousands of times slower” as a fraction would still read awkwardly. Imagine this construction: “… machines ran one-one-thousandth times slower.” Ugh.

You might be able to get away with using percent, since we’re all familiar with percent used to indicate a decreased price in a sale. But by the time you get up into the thousands, as in the quantity cited in the example, and then add in the “slower” adverb, that’s just as awful: “… machines ran 1,000 percent slower …”? No thanks.

Now this one, from a blog:

A study by Larva Labs (the developers of the excellent Slidescreen app) estimates that Apple has paid out 50 times more money to developers than Google has.

(I should note that the author edited this: it originally read 50x.)

My big quibble here is why the author didn’t just offer up the quantity, since he was talking about money. Let’s say Google developers make $1,000 and Apple developers make $50,000. Now isn’t that impressive? And isn’t the disparity between the two payouts still remarkable?

Perhaps the author was manipulating the amounts to make his point. It’s possible that Apple has paid out a gazillion dollars to a gazillion developers, whereas Google has paid out a gazillion dollars to 10 developers. That makes Google far more generous, but the statement proffered by the blogger would still be accurate: Apple would have paid out 50 times more money to developers than Google.

Don’t get tripped up by “times” – avoid this expression unless the most impressive way to describe the increase (not decrease) would be to explain it as a multiple.

So what’d they do? Without coming out and saying so in so many words, they admitted that they’ve been just a tad out of touch lo these many years, and that “website” is indeed the correct spelling — lowercase “w,” one word — to refer to the virtual place where you are reading this right now.

This recap says it better than I could, and of course I am in favor of the decision. I have to admit it will actually take some conscious effort on my part to type “website” and not feel like I’m in the wrong.

But I’m still pissed, and here’s why. Because instead of acknowledging a stubborn streak as far-reaching as the ash cloud of the Eyjafjallajökull volcano, AP actually said (with a straight face? I wasn’t there, so I can’t say) that this change reflects their sensitivity to reader and user feedback. From the Poynter article:

Today’s two style-related announcements show the importance of user feedback, said Colleen Newvine, head of market research for the AP and product manager for the Stylebook.

“Although style listings are not an ‘American Idol’ popularity vote, it is important to us to listen to our readers and our users.”

As someone who has submitted multiple questions to AP’s Ask the Editor forum (no longer viewable without a subscription to the AP Online Stylebook), it’s been my experience that the answers AP gave me were frustratingly obtuse and indicated not just a lack of reading comprehension but the opposite of what I would call “listening to our readers and our users.”

The number of years it took to change their mind about “Web site” only proves my point. Just browse through Ask the Editor (if you can) and you’ll see repeated queries about how website should appear, both from those innocent to the answer and those looking for a fight. But AP’s answers to these questions don’t make pertinent points about why Web site is (to their sensibilities) correct. The standard replies are either “AP uses Web site (two words)” or “AP style is Web site.” Thanks so much for the illumination.

Yes, I’m happy for “website.” But I’d still like more information about AP editors’ thought processes on this and any other hot style topic.

Naturally, I can’t get it to come up now, so I’ll have to use my amazing powers of recall. The ad was asking me to consider upgrading to the professional edition, “Now Available on the App Store.”

How awkward does this sound to you? Because it sounds really awkward to me.

However much your iPhone experience may resemble a virtual reality, you do not literally go into Web sites on Safari or into applications like the new one from Starbucks: you view them. Perhaps that’s why the copywriter recoiled at the idea of browsing “in” the App Store.

But English is English is English, and if the software or Web site is called a “store,” you have no choice but to go into it, because suddenly the reader is envisioning themselves on the roof of a TJ Maxx. And nobody wants that.

People go onto Web sites, yes, but they into applications, and unless they’re roofers or superheroes, they most certainly go into stores. That’s just the way it is. Don’t go trying to mix it up.

Upstyle is the traditional way of capitalizing most words (sans articles and prepositions) in a title; downstyle means to cap only the first word and proper nouns.

The problem is that the Associated Press doesn’t quite want to define what constitutes a title, so instead they’ve established different rules for “composition titles” (upstyle) and “headlines” (downstyle).

So what’s the problem? The muddled way in which AP answers questions about it in its “Ask the Editor” column.

For example (bold is mine):

Q: Subheads follow AP headline style, capitalizing only the first word and proper nouns, correct? If so, are they punctuated (unlike the main headline), ending in a period? – from Key Largo, Florida on Mon, Jan 07, 2008

A: Headlines on AP wire stories capitalize the first word and proper nouns. Subheads — which are rare — would follow the same style. Headlines for AP stories online use both “up” and “down” style. In “up” style, virtually all words are capitalized. In “down” style, the first word and proper nouns are capitalized. Headlines are punctuated as needed. Commas, semicolons, apostrophes and single-quotes for quotation marks are frequent, but no periods at the end.

Let me parse this out. “Headlines for AP stories online use both up and down style” means that anything goes. This is a rather odd decision from an organization that attempts to set rules.

Here’s another one:

Q: If AP style for headings is to capitalize only the first word and proper nouns, then why are the headings on the home page of www.apstylebook.com handled differently? “John Doe’s Stylebook and Notes,” “Popular Topics,” “Ask the Editor,” “Site Settings and Account Management” are all capitalized in what I consider to be the more traditional, academic style. Please clarify, as our web team – from Seattle, WA on Thu, Apr 12, 2007

A: The style you refer to is primarily for headlines in newspaper copy. There’s more leeway with shorter “headers” such as you describe.

Interpretation: AP does have an inner monologue guiding the use of upstyle and downstyle. Unfortunately, their only clue to this monologue is that the header has to be “shorter.” Shorter than what exactly?

And one more:

Q: We are trying to decide how to handle capitalization of headings on our school district Web site. You state that, “AP style for headlines (and subheads) is to capitalize only the first word and proper nouns.” However, on your home page, the headings “Search,” “Linda Robertson’s Stylebook and Notes,” “Popular Topics,” “Ask the Editor,” and “Site Settings and Account Management” are all – from Redmond, WA on Fri, Jul 20, 2007

A: The headline style applies to the text format for AP news stories. Web site headlines and labels have other typographical requirements.

And just what are these other typographical requirements? That’s hard to say, since Ask the Editor answers are almost always briefer than a tweet.

Wait! I have to include this one, since I’m the one who asked it:

Q: An initial-capped subhead in a paper reads, “What Will it Mean in the End?” Given AP capitalization rules about principal words, shouldn’t words essential to the thought in the head (like “it”) also be capitalized? – from Dallas, TX on Fri, Jul 13, 2007

A: AP capitalizes only the first word and proper nouns of a headline. Others are of course free to follow their own style on headlines.

So here’s their deal. You can use upstyle or downstyle for headlines, especially if the headline is shorter, falls into an “other typographical requirements” category, or if you just feel like doing whatever you like.

Strangely enough, if I’ve promised a client that I will edit according to AP style, doing whatever I like doesn’t quite feel right, especially with something as prominent as the header.

So here’s what I do. I downstyle most headlines, depending on what it is. If it’s a brochure, downstyle. If it’s a white paper and clearly a “composition,” I’ll think about keeping it upstyle, since that is almost always how it will come in.

Whichever style I use, I match the subheadings to the headlines for consistency.

I downstyle labels in graphics and tables, unless I am not actually making the changes. If a designer is executing my proofreading marks and a table is particularly text-heavy and upstyle, the risk of introducing more errors — certainly errors of consistency — is too great a risk.

Yet all of this leaves me unsettled. I suggest that AP abandon the idea of downstyle completely; it’s not what most people learned growing up, and these bizarre “if .. then” rules are quite difficult to follow. Upstyle FTW!

Anywho … as your talking-head-in-residence, you may find yourself in a situation where you aren’t sure whether to use “may” or “can,” as in the following examples:

“Other operations may be remotely monitored and adjusted manually.”

“With this online tool, you will not receive a paper check stub. Instead, you may access a secure online tool.”

To me, these sentences — from a white paper and a benefits newsletter, respectively — reveal a timidness on the part of the author (something I seem to have a low tolerance for, given my call for authors to step out from behind the passive voice in an earlier post). “May” traditionally indicates that you are seeking permission, while “can” indicates capability or possibility. In these  sentences, the context clearly indicates the conveyance of possibility, not pleading.

Read the sentences again and then question them using “may”: “May I remotely monitor and manually adjust other operations?” “May I access a secure online tool?” I don’t know — may you?

In these instances, no, you may not –  but you certainly can.

Unfortunately, some sentences aren’t quite so easy. What about this one?

“Medical nutrition therapy addresses situations in which a change in eating habits may significantly improve your health.”

Although it’s true that a change in eating habits “may” — as in might, or perhaps — improve your health, it’s also true that a change in eating habits “can” — as in could possibly — improve your health.

All things being equal in this situation, it’s time to turn to the author’s intent. Is the communication attempting to persuade readers of the benefits of medical nutrition therapy? Then it’s probably wise to use “can.”

Alternately, does the overall tone seem more guarded? Is medical nutrition therapy but one of many solutions discussed? In that case, you’re probably fine leaving it as “may.”

Still, I wouldn’t be blogging about this if I wasn’t spending quite a bit of time canning “may” and inserting “can,” because even in a sentence that clearly implies possibility, “can” doesn’t sound egregiously wrong. Let’s take this sentence:

“College seniors facing an unsure job market may look to graduate school as a way to wait out the recession.”

And replace “may” with “can”:

“College seniors facing an unsure job market can look to graduate school as a way to wait out the recession.”

They both read fine to me. In other words, you can’t go wrong with “can.”

I exaggerate: I remember all but four days. What matters most is that I survived — not only with all of my extremities, but with my editor’s sensibilities and sensitivities intact. I’m back to blogging, tweeting, and bristling when I see an apostrophe used to indicate a plural.

If I’m editing for a client who prefers AP style or Chicago style, I’ll be consistent to the point of compulsion. But for my own personal blog posts, I find myself picking and choosing, sometimes respecting authority and sometimes not.

Take Website/Web site/website, for example. AP and Chicago both prefer “Web site.” If I’m reading between the lines correctly, AP seems to be holding fast almost out of spite. Here’s a typical answer from their Ask the Editor (ahem) Web site: “AP uses Web site as two words. We decided early on that Web site was a component or part of the World Wide Web, not a compound noun based on it.”

Chicago’s position, on the other hand, seems a teensy bit more flexible, while making things a bit murky with the whole intended-audience question. If it’s “formal writing,” they say, use “Web site,” and if it’s “informal” or “friendly” writing, “website” is acceptable.

I personally prefer website; I think that by now, people think of it and speak it as a single word. I’m also typically pro-lowercase; wiping out rampant and unnecessary capitalization is one of my causes.

Still, I cannot stop myself from writing Web site in my blog. Perhaps I sympathize with AP’s flag staking here when the troops are so obviously advancing. Yes, they’re being obstinate, but I suppose I admire their principles … except when it comes to the serial comma.

Here’s where I draw the line. (A little curvy line with a dot at the top.)  I simply don’t understand why AP seems to want to grant so much power to the word “and” when just a little comma could clear up any possible ambiguity. I suspect the rule goes back to when printing presses had to set type; column spaces were fixed and the comma fell victim to character cutbacks.

So that’s why I’m not quite 100 percent faithful to AP in my blog — just in case it was keeping you up at night.

If you google “evolution of language on Twitter,” you’ll find some great posts that describe the social science at work within Twitter. They imply that Twitter is one giant grooming site where the gift of language allows Homo sapiens to broadcast from a distance, increasing the likelihood of attracting mates while preserving survival by leaving the rest of our bodies free for self-defense.

That’s a pretty deep analysis for a deceptively simple Web site.

Although the sociological aspects are intriguing, I’m naturally more interested in Twitter’s impact on the English language and how it’s design contraints have placed a value (almost in terms of currency) on words.

The Twitter community is the Twitterverse. Posts are tweets. Twitter friends are tweeps. Face-to-face meetings with your tweeps, organized by tweets, are tweetups.

So many new words evolved from the word Twitter that someone created a twittonary.

I jumped on the “tw-” bandwagon too, choosing tweditor as my user name.

Twisting existing words for Twitter can get rather silly, of course, and not every tword will survive. But many of the basic terms will, if only because Twitter’s sheer novelty demanded a novel vocabulary.

Twitterers are also repurposing existing words. Take via, for example. This word spun off from RT, or  “re-tweet,” which is similar to the “FW:” in an e-mail subject line. I’ve been impressed by the degree to which Twitterers properly attribute original sources using RT.

Quite recently, someone suggested that the Twitterverse adopt “via” to indicate the editing of another’s tweet, since RT usually means that the tweet was pasted verbatim. And this entire discussion took place within Twitter, essentially crowdsourcing the decision to use “via.”

It’s startling to watch this happen in real time.

The other amazing thing about Twitter is that it’s the strictest editor going. Everyone on Twitter must limit their tweets to 140 characters. This sounds reasonable in theory, but it’s quite difficult in practice. There you are, typing away; before you know it, you’re in the negative character zone. How can you compress your thought? Get to the point faster? Use shorter words?

Twitter’s character limits necessitate descriptive language and headline-like summaries. Of course, it’s possible to continue a thought in additional tweets, but this occurs rarely. Even for editors skilled in “omit[ting] needless words” (per Strunk and White), tweets offer a challenging but exhilerating exercise.

This inevitable distillation of thought can only be good for us all. As Twitter signs up more users every day (the company’s YoY growth from February 2008 to February 2009 was 1,382 percent), the quantity of tweets will only increase. If nothing else, the 140-character limit suggests that you trend toward quality. (I personally won’t follow people whose tweets are boring; see this video for a hilarious parody of Twitter’s mundane side.)

Despite being in favor of tweetspeak, I am concerned that conjunctions will go on the endangered species list, sacrificed for the sake of succinctness. I also don’t want to see the “text-ification” of tweets: ppl instead of people, u instead of you, 2 instead of too.

I just hope that the majority of users will value workhorse words that, while taking up valuable space with their too-long character counts, will preserve readability across Twitter’s vast audience. In a way, it’s a survival mechanism too. Twitter needs language conventions — there’s too much conversational crosspollination, and the speed at which the conversation moves demands instantenous comprehension.

Special approvals are required for the release of information to be presented in public forums, such as conferences or published in trade journals and the like, so that appropriate consideration may be given to whether information may be patentable and … intellectual property may be properly protected.

Wow.

This is the Atlantis of passive sentences, the meaning obscured beneath an ocean of “are”s, “to”s, “may”s, and “be”s.

Plus, it’s not really easy to fix, unless you know who’s:

1. Requiring special approvals.

2. Presenting the information in public forums.

3. Giving appropriate consideration.

4. Patenting the information.

5. Properly protecting the intellectual property.

Let’s say that the answer to No. 2 is an employee (who is also the audience for this message) and that the answer to Nos. 1, 3, 4, and 5 is a law firm called Dewey, Cheatum & Howe (get it?). If I assigned responsibility for the actions described in the sentence, it would sound something like this:

If you’ll be speaking in a public forum such as a conference or publishing an article in a trade journal, Dewey, Cheatum & Howe requires that you obtain special approval before releasing the information. Our lawyers must consider whether your intellectual property needs a patent or other protective measures.

I did take a bit of liberty with this (and could go even further with the first person plural “we” instead of “our lawyers”), but I hope you’ll agree that it’s more clear.

I’m curious to see other attempts to active-ate the sentence. How would you fix it?

Still, it reminded me of my favorite punctuation-related idea (besides National Punctuation Day or anything on Etsy featuring punctuation). I’d love to attempt this improv/Whose Line is it Anyway?-esque party idea. Who’s with me?

A Punctuation Party

A “writer” station at the door writes boldly on every party goer’s white T-Shirt a punctuation symbol. The person, no matter what his or her punctuation symbol, must act as it would in a sentence. For example, a person with…
-An exclamation point would be incredulous! At all times! Chug!
-A period would tell it how it is. Clear statements, no room for confusion. Period.
-With three periods would ramble on and trail off in every possible conversational activity. It would be their job to go on and on and on by telling fake stories, making noises, mumbling …
-A question mark would formulate everything in a questionable way? Both questions, but also questionable comments? Pick up lines?
-For those that the “writer” at the door deems capable, he or she should emblazon a colon, semicolon, or hyphen onto the unlucky partygoer. And don’t forget about the possibilities of Spanish symbols!

I’m sorry I can’t give credit or link to the URL where I found this, even after much googling. I know I found it on Sept. 25, 2008. If you can track down the site, please send it to me. Apologies to the creator(s) (whose work I did not edit so that it would be easier to find).