A Comma Is a Pesky Critter

In editing, some things are easy. I could correct the improper use of lie versus lay in my sleep, for example. Easy. Other things are less easy, less clear, sometimes downright puzzling. Some things can leave me feeling like I don’t know this English business so good as I thunk I do.

Consider the comma. In form it’s a period with a cute little tail. In function, a comma can be the difference between a sentence making sense and well not (and, well, not). Just how important are these cute little comma critters? The 15th edition of The Chicago Manual of Style devotes one page to the period, almost two pages to the colon, and just over eleven pages to the comma. Eleven pages to explain comma usage, and some of us still have questions!

Chicago advises, “Effective use of the comma involves good judgment, with ease of reading the end in view” (6.18). Sounds easy enough, and often it is easy. Some sentences like this one cry out for commas (i.e., Some sentences, like this one, cry out…). But “ease of reading” implies you already know what the sentence is supposed to say; alas, for editors, this is often not the case.

There are basically three kinds of writers: those who love commas and use them liberally; those who have some sort of aversion to commas and use them rarely, if at all; and those who use commas correctly. I call it “The Goldilocks Syndrome.”

Too many:

As she slept, in the comfy bed, three, big, brown bears came in, and the biggest one, the old, and grumpy, father, said…

Too few:

As she slept in the comfy bed three big brown bears came in and the biggest one the old and grumpy father said…

Just right:

As she slept in the comfy bed, three big brown bears came in, and the biggest one, the old and grumpy father, said…

It’s usually my job to make things just right. And trust me, it’s not always this easy. But I won’t bore you anymore with my personal comma issues. After all how many examples of bad, comma placement can I expect you to read, in one day? I’ll keep using my best judgment, trying to get people’s pesky little commas just right. Call me Goldilocks.