I like commas, perhaps a little too much. I like the way they give me more control over readers’ pacing, forcing them mentally to pause when I want them to pause and go when I want them to go. I like how they can break a sentence into discrete chunks while showing how those chunks relate to one another.
But, like I said, I might like them a little too much.
The Chicago Manual of Style gives editors a decent amount of guidance on the proper use of commas, but sometimes it offers open-ended guidelines instead of strictures. Take section 6.36, for example:
An introductory adverbial phrase is often set off by a comma but need not be unless misreading is likely. Shorter adverbial phrases are less likely to merit a comma than longer ones.
CMoS leaves it to the editor to define shorter and longer adverbial phrases. And we editors do, basing our definition on the number of words in the phrase. Or the number of characters. Or syllables. Or the physical length of the phrase on the page or screen. Or how close it is to lunchtime.
Some of us make the choice once and then do our best to maintain the consistency of that choice throughout a project. Others (and I count myself among this group) judge each instance as it comes.
The point is, though, that it is a choice. It’s that “editorial discretion” we love so much.
I’m probably in the minority in that I prefer the comma in almost all cases of introductory adverbial phrases, even in the case of a single introductory adverb.
In 1975, Gerald Ford became the first president to wear bell bottoms in the White House.*
I think that sentence is just fine, and some editors agree with me. Others are bothered by the comma because the adverbial phrase is only two “words” comprising only seven characters (with the space). The comma is unnecessary.
But unnecessary isn’t the same as wrong.
Although there are plenty of cases in which a comma is strictly prescribed or proscribed, there are plenty of other instances that are left to the editor’s or writer’s choice. How do we make that choice? A house style guide may help, or it may be just as open-ended as CMoS. Other considerations are the audience’s expectations, the mood of the piece, its rhythm and pace, and, of course, the author’s wishes.
Sometimes we editors like to think that how we edit a sentence is the right way, and every other way is wrong. But it’s not always so black and white. And if editors have a hard time remembering this, it’s even worse for those whose work we edit. If there’s a question of grammar or usage, non-editors often expect us to have a straightforward if-this-then-that answer that points out the One True Way.
At times like these, it can help to remind them — and ourselves — that editing is as much an art as a science.
*Probably not true. I hear Nixon thought wide-legged pants were pretty groovy.
This article was originally posted on the Copyediting website, Feb. 3, 2016.
