Copyediting sample 25:
Kicking the dog’s bowl

An editor will often have to disambiguate—that is, clear up what a pronoun refers to (in this case, which noun the “it” refers to). An editor also needs to determine when a sentence or phrase is parenthetical within the larger context.

Skip this sample and advance to the next one in the series.

This sample is presented here with the author’s permission.

Original
Click to go to the markup.

Something prevented me from erasing the message immediately, without even listening to it; I won’t call it a premonition or divine intervention, I won’t stoop to vulgarity, but the fact stands that I still don’t know what it was. I had two choices then: 1) Stay home and grapple with all of the horrors intrinsic to messages from unknown callers or 2) Go to the party. After mechanically refilling dead Roscoe’s water bowl and then realizing my mistake and kicking it across the kitchen, I chose the latter, unwittingly granting myself a few hours yet to live my life before my daughter’s voice, my daughter’s words, would spill forth into my little world like pestilent vapors from history’s grave.

Markup
Click to go to the result.

Something prevented me from erasing the message immediately, without even listening to it; I won’t listening to it. I won’t call it a premonition or divine intervention, I won’t intervention (I won’t stoop to vulgarity, but vulgarity), but the fact stands that I still don’t know what it was. I had two choices then: 1) Stay then: (1) Stay home and grapple with all of the horrors intrinsic to messages from unknown callers or 2) Go to callers, or (2) go to the party. After mechanically refilling dead Roscoe’s water bowl and then realizing my mistake and kicking it kicking the bowl [the ambiguous referent for “it” (“my mistake,” which is closer to “kicking” than “water bowl” is?) can cause a momentary (admittedly absurd) misreading, thereby momentarily impeding reader comprehension] across the kitchen, I chose the latter, unwittingly granting myself a few hours yet to live my life before my daughter’s voice, my daughter’s words, would spill forth into my little world like pestilent vapors from history’s grave.

Result
Click to go to the next sample in the series.

Something prevented me from erasing the message immediately, without even listening to it. I won’t call it a premonition or divine intervention (I won’t stoop to vulgarity), but the fact stands that I still don’t know what it was. I had two choices then: (1) Stay home and grapple with all of the horrors intrinsic to messages from unknown callers, or (2) go to the party. After mechanically refilling dead Roscoe’s water bowl and then realizing my mistake and kicking the bowl across the kitchen, I chose the latter, unwittingly granting myself a few hours yet to live my life before my daughter’s voice, my daughter’s words, would spill forth into my little world like pestilent vapors from history’s grave.