Thomas M. Reid

So, like for many people, 2009 was a lean one for me regarding income. As a freelancer, I’m never “out of work” (much in the same way that I’m never really “on vacation” or “staying home sick”), but the contracts were few and far between last year. That’s why, when 2010 rolled around and I got approached for, not one, but two different substantial contract prospects, I got a little bit giddy. Turns out, the financial offerings only partially contributed to my good mood.

For one of these gigs, I’ve actually been asked to come into the client’s offices to do some of the work, as there needs to be a lot of back-and-forth on design and art issues before the real work can commence. So I’m an integral part of a team. I haven’t been in that position but one other time since I left Wizards of the Coast back in 2001, and that one other time was for three brief months several years ago, when I took an ill-fated job with a local company as a writer (perhaps more on that in another post). Other than those three months, I have worked from home, in my home office, surrounded by no one but my kids.

I have to say, it’s been feeling pretty darned good to actually “head into the office” the last few days. I even got a key card. It’s weird, the kinds of things that’ll make your day. Does this mean that I’m ready to give up the freelance lifestyle and return to the workforce full time? Maybe; don’t know. The circumstances would have to be just right. But if the right offer does come along, it might just be the refreshing change I’m enjoying on a temporary basis right now.

So, since my last post, a very interesting turn of events occurred in my life that caused me to reevaluate my feelings a little bit about how adamant I ought to be regarding “the rules.”

I had to spend the night in the hospital.

Let me say up front that it turned out to be nothing major, and I am fine. But severe chest pains led me to call 911, which resulted in a visit to the ER, which ended with an overnight stay for observation. It turned out to be what I had initially thought — that is, acute acid reflux — but you just don’t fool around with chest pains. The great big silver lining to all of it was that I now know, without a doubt, that my heart is healthy, my cholesterol and sodium levels are generally good, and that hospital RNs are some of the greatest, most under-appreciated people in the world, but I get much better sleep in my own damned bed.

Now, some of my GI condition is genetic; my grandfather dealt with acid reflux and had to incline his bed, and I’m guessing I inherited his lousy esophageal sphincter. Some of it is careless diet, with a little bit too much to eat, with a little too much spice to it, and a little too much soda to boot. I’ve learned to fix those problems with satisfying success; I’ve got my bed inclined, too, and I’ve learned to consume smaller, less spicy portions, not so late at night, and to drink fewer Cokes (at least, I was doing well until the holidays). The other contributor to acid reflux and GERD is, of course, stress. And that’s where we get into uncharted waters. 2009 was a crappy year for a lot of us financially, and I certainly felt my share of frustrations. As a result, the holidays — and their accompanying material trappings — were slimmer and more stressful than usual. To be honest, I’m not that surprised that this hit me.

So, with plenty of time to think while under observation, I concluded pretty quickly that I needed an attitude adjustment, and one of the things at the top of my list was pretty simple; I realized I just couldn’t afford to care as much about whether a decade ends on ’9′ or ’0′ anymore. (Turns out, most people see it differently depending on whether you’re talking about “the 1980s” or “the 21st century” anyway. Go figure.) It was actually kind of nice, understanding this. A serene calm settled on me, and I vowed right then and there that I would get over it. Yep, you call it whichever way you want it; new decade, end of old one, it’s all good in my book.

In the spirit of my new, less-anal self, I present to you an article on five grammar myths that could stand to be debunked. Each one is backed by evidence that dates back quite a ways in usage, several centuries in some cases. All of them are worth contemplating. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to split some infinitives and end some sentences with prepositions.

A professional acquaintance and former coworker of mine recently Tweeted that he found it difficult to believe how hard some people want to argue over whether 2009 was the end of a decade or not and suggested that the pedants get over it. This gave me pause because of the parenthetical comment I included in my previous post. Was he talking about me? (I doubt it; even though he knows me on a professional level, my blog is too new and it’s unlikely that he has seen it yet.) Even if he wasn’t, could I be lumped into that category?

A pedant is defined on dictionary.com as 1) a person who makes an excessive or inappropriate display of learning; 2) a person who overemphasizes rules or minor details; 3) a person who adheres rigidly to book knowledge without regard to common sense; and 4) Obsolete. a schoolmaster.

Wow. I definitely could qualify for all four of these definitions, if you really wanted to stretch things and consider my role as “teacher” to my three kids. I do often make a display of my learning. But is it excessive or inappropriate? I do emphasize rules and minor details. Is it too much? I do adhere rigidly to book knowledge. Has it been at the expense of my common sense? Last night, as I went to bed, I didn’t know, but I was very troubled by the suggestion. Is my insistence that people get things right a little too anal? I needed to think on this and figure out why I was so bothered by my friend’s assertion.

Here’s the thing: I know I emphasize rules and minor details. As an editor, it’s part of my job, how I make a living. It’s what I do. Do I need to do it all the time, even when just out and about? Probably not. It’s not necessary to point out every flaw in the written word we see in ads, signage, and emails. It’s not going to change anything, and you could argue the case that I am only engaging in an excessive or inappropriate display of my learning (though I would argue that it is a useful educational tool for practicing spelling and grammar with my children). So yes, I suppose I am a pedant.

“Well, crap,” I thought as I lay in bed last night. Who wants to be labeled in such a negative way? Especially when I can’t, if I’m honest with myself, refute it? I suppose the only thing to do is to stop being so . . . well, pedantic . . . about things. Just go with the flow, let it wash over me like water off a duck’s back and all that. But I didn’t want to. I was pissed. And I  wanted to understand why.

The conclusion I finally came to is that I’m proud of my knowledge. I’m proud that I understand the intricacies of the English language, or the fact that, when we count the years in a decade, we start with 1 and end with 10. This learning is what defines me, gives me power, establishes my worth in society. You might see that as egotistical, and you’re probably right, but consider: during my formative years, in public school, the greatest, most positive feedback I could get was from my teachers. Why? Because I got the answers right. I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, and people took notice and congratulated me. So when I’m being a bit pedantic, I’m actually just reinforcing that sense of self-worth. I’m saying, “Hey, world, check me out. I know my shit. Aren’t you proud of me?”

And yeah, not everyone is going to react well to such brazen snobbery. I get that. It’s the age-old incongruity of social values: we heap praise and adoration on all the wrong people. Peyton Manning can heave a football forty yards with uncanny accuracy, and we tell him he’s our hero and throw money at him. Jason Statham blows some stuff up and drives really fast on the big screen and we fall all over ourselves proclaiming his coolness. Al Gore makes a passing comment about his involvement in technological advances and we deride him for nerdiness and accuse him of claiming to invent the Internet. The jock is loved, the class clown worshiped, the teacher’s pet scorned. It’s not new, I’m not disillusioned that it’s going to change any time soon, and it’s not what’s bothering me.

What’s bothering me is where it came from this time around. I expect society at large — the faceless, nameless masses whom I don’t know — to behave in such a manner. In the same way we have no qualms against honking at or shooting the bird at the random driver who cuts us off on the highway, I understand that strangers will not react well to being told they’ve got their facts wrong, or they can’t properly use their mother tongue. No one likes to be made to feel stupid, regardless of the accuracy of the appellation.

But I don’t expect to get accused of pedanthood by someone I considered “on my side.” The person who Tweeted this works in the same industry I do; he’s intelligent, assiduous, and seems to care a great deal about quality and integrity. I would not have expected him to dismiss the debate over this issue so quickly. I’m sure he had no intention of insulting me personally. But it feels like a betrayal. It feels like someone I thought I had common cause with stabbed me in the back. That’s pretty stupid, isn’t it? Feeling that way over a debate about how we think of decades is a bit . . . small-minded.

I guess. But it bothers me that people who “ought to know better” seem so willing to dismiss stuff like this as “no big deal.” It’s not the way we think of decades that truly bothers me; it’s the blasé attitude we have about it all. When did it become OK to let errors get off scot-free? When did it stop mattering whether we were right or wrong about something that can be fact-checked easily? How come usage is allowed to trump accuracy? When did the group of us who actually care about such things shrink so much?

And therein lies the real crux of this whole post: Am I a pedant because I cling tenaciously to outdated, old-fashioned ideals? Have I surrendered my common sense in favor of trying to be right and making sure the world knows it, even when the world doesn’t care, or worse yet, dismisses me as trivial? If so, then my self-worth is about to take a hell of a beating.