It’s true. You’ll find many a tool that can support you as you write and refine your text. They vary in scope and sophistication, from autocorrect on your phone to a dedicated AI-driven app like Grammarly or Hemingway. But each one offers a fast and fairly fuss-free way to complete basic checks and catch typos when your mind and fingers aren’t in sync.
I’m not here to say that you shouldn’t use these types of editing tools. I use some of them myself. Rather, my advice is that you don’t let them lull you into a false sense of security and that you consider how they differ from a human editor.
We tend to think of software as pretty infallible. All that binary code hidden in the background breaks actions down into simple Yes or No decisions, making them repeatable and the outcomes predictable. Click a button and it will respond the same way a thousand times over. Plug 2 plus 2 into a calculator, and the answer will always be 4.
But we have to recognise the complexity bound up in writing and editing. They are processes that rely on critical thinking, analysis, nuance and discernment. Developers are giving it a red-hot go, but can you really code those skills into being?
I don’t doubt that computers will eventually have something akin to a human consciousness (one reason some of us are painstakingly polite to Alexa and Siri). Until then, we all need to take care.
A false sense of security
Here are 2 small examples (of many) from my working life that show what can happen when you give software too much responsibility.
“This chapter descotes” – when human error and software collide
A friend of mine in the UK – also an editor – was reading a parenting book when she came across the word “descotes”. She did a double-take, but she didn’t dwell on the mistake.
Until it appeared again, this time as “descoting”.
It took a bit of puzzling for my friend to work out what had gone awry. The book, originally published in the US, had been updated for the UK market. To bring the language into line with British usage, some unfortunate soul had done a global “find and replace” on important words in the manuscript. So all instances of “crib” had become “cot” ... including that pesky one in “describe”. Nobody noticed and the new edition sailed off to print without a proofread.
Ever since I heard this story, I’ve been alert to the risks of relying on quick automated fixes. Software won’t always consider the flow-on effects of a change and it won’t protect you from human error. Giving it too much autonomy can lead to costly and embarrassing oversights.
“The three-armed guards” – when English grammar is distilled into binary rules
More recently, I was editing in a well-known word processing program. Its grammar checker wasn’t happy with the phrase “the three armed guards”, so (with an ounce of trepidation) I looked at what it suggested instead:
“the three-armed guards”
One tiny dash and suddenly each guard had an extra limb they neither needed nor deserved. I rejected the suggestion, but it did remind me of the gnarled and knotty reality of English. While I definitely didn’t want any three-armed guards, in another situation I probably would want the eight-legged octopuses.
Our language has many "rules", oft unspoken, and almost as many exceptions (see my post on adjectives and reduplicatives for a couple of interesting examples). Words and punctuation marks can easily change their position and function in a sentence, usually bringing a slight but important shift in meaning. Distilling this variation into a binary system is a fraught undertaking, and it means that software can be helpful to a fault. Had I not understood hyphens, I might have welcomed that fault into the text.
A human editor’s judgement
I realise these errors are an editor’s version of the autocorrect fails you might chuckle at on social media. They would be distracting in print but, in all honesty, they’re unlikely to throw a reader into complete disarray. You might just get away with them as a writer.
What you won’t get away with is writing that lacks clarity and focus, because readers ultimately need to understand what you’re saying. This is where the human editor leaves software trailing in the dust.
Some of the more advanced apps can help by pointing out jargon, waffle or passive verbs. They do this with varying degrees of success, although never much panache. They won't pay attention to rhythm and flow, for example.
But beyond clarity of wording, what about clarity of thought?
Will they tell you when you haven’t explained an idea properly, or when the bridge you’ve built between 2 different ideas is a little wobbly? Will they tell you when your message is hidden in your closing paragraph, rather than celebrated in your opening one? Will they check the accuracy of your facts and the continuity of your narrative?
These are just a few of the things editors look out for, especially when we do developmental or structural editing. We know your readers’ expectations, your writing objectives and your publishing medium. That means we can judge when content should be emphasised, expanded, reworked or just delicately trimmed.
Critical thinking, analysis, nuance and discernment are our superpowers. So by all means, give Google Docs or Grammarly the first crack at your text. But then give us a call.
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