In the beginning, there was a big orange book called The Chicago Manual of Style, a cubicle, and a newly minted copyeditor fresh from her previous career as a book maven. Our heroine struggled to learn the intricacies of setting references and read whole chapters from the big orange book. Some chapters she read twice.
When she found herself querying “Do Cats Have Lips?,” she knew she had arrived. Promoting gender equality in sewing books or questioning scientific jargon became just a day’s work. Why teach literature to inner-city kids when you can edit books about tatting doilies with dental floss?
When the lack of natural light caused her to wilt, she decided to go freelance. Now she edits from her kitchen table. Her that/which deduction is enormous.