What Is Personal?

The definition of what is personal, and therefore private, has changed with time.

It used to be that your body was personal and private. At various times in history, you dared not show your neck or ankle or bellybutton to anyone and seeing someone else’s in public was scandalous. There was shame in revealing the personal, at least to the wrong person and at the wrong time. To reveal the personal was a reflection on you and your obviously low standards.

Now it is information that is personal and private. Your birth date, your social security number, and your medical records are personal. Your hobbies, interests and recreational activities are personal. Your preferences can be personal. Do you prefer mustard or mayonnaise? That’s personal.

If someone else reveals or accesses your personal information, that’s frowned upon and even dangerous. Otherwise, there seems to be no shame in revealing your personal information these days. People share all kinds of things about themselves, especially on the internet, perhaps in order to “connect” with other people (see Unconnected post, Aug. 28).

People share so much personal information that society has fallen into an informational ennui. You Tweet: Having dinner, but these peppers are giving me terrible gas! No one cares, except maybe your gastroenterologist. No one is even scandalized about the public sharing of such personal information, although someone might yell, “TMI!”

So, if it’s not too personal, please share: What do you consider personal? What is OK to share and what should you keep to yourself?

An Occupational Hazard of Writers

The Disclaimer: This isn’t so much a disclaimer as a credit. The following was inspired by a conversation with new friend and fellow ex-teacher Robert Hageman. Thanks, Rob!

One of the biggest occupational hazards of being a writer and editor is that everyone thinks they can do the job as well as, if not better than, you can. (Hey, that’s funny -- that was one of my occupational hazards as a teacher, too.) Their reasoning is fine on the surface: I speak the language.

But if truly everyone could do it, there wouldn’t be writing and editing jobs, in which a person’s main duties are writing and editing (I know there are some of those jobs out there, I just know it!). Also, no self-respecting university would actually offer a bachelor’s degree in writing, like I have. It would be like getting a degree in breathing. (If you actually have such a degree, please let me know!)

I’ve also heard the idea that because a person went to college, he can write. And the more he went to college, the better he can write. Well, I went to college too (and majored in writing, remember?). And I know that in college, especially in graduate school, you learn to write in an “academic” way – long, rambling, passive voice that you’re milking for all its worth so you can fill the minimum number of pages required. That’s called bs-ing, not writing.

Being a professional writer and editor also has side effects. I read at least half the day, with a serious “work” concentration. Now, when I read recreationally in the evening, I don’t care to apply the same vigor to the task as I have at work. As a result, I can’t get through a Henry James novel. I read Turn of the Screw last year and was confused by the end of it. Did something happen? Was there a plot?

Despite the risks, I still enjoy the journey into language that one takes as a writer and editor and I will still pursue a full-time career in it. I probably won’t pursue another James novel, though.

I Made a Mistake

In a recent job interview, I had to fess up to an infamous error I made while at my last job.

I was editing an edition of a research journal. The editing and proofreading had been a long process, and it was down to the finishing touches. Suddenly, word came that the journal was going to be handed out at a conference and it needed to go to print now. The graphic designer was preparing the standard cover design and I asked him to be sure to put the volume number on the cover before he sent it to the printer.

The next thing I knew, we got an outraged call from said conference with the news that the cover said “Volumer.”

Now I’ve got to tell you that I have mixed feelings about this error. On the one hand, it was a while back and everyone makes mistakes and it’s not the end of the world. On the other, how embarrassing! What a way to look bad – big and bold and on the cover! It is a pretty big blow to my professional ego – how could I possibly let that kind of thing happen?

I take responsibility here – I did not check the cover before it went to the printer. For all future editions of the journal, and indeed, for all other future projects, I checked everything closely, especially covers, regardless of the looming deadline.

My colleagues were gracious and played it down. They shared similar stories about their own mistakes. For months afterward, we joked about adding an extra “r” on the ends of words. Someone suggested we blow up a copy of the cover, frame it and hang it on the wall. For this lighthearted pain sharing, I am grateful.

There is a lesson here, or perhaps a few. I like to think of it this way:

·         Learn from your mistakes but don’t dwell on the past.

·         Own up but don’t be too hard on yourself.

·         Strive for perfection but don’t be disappointed if you don’t get there (because you won’t).

What’s your philosophy on making mistakes?