Q. In the sentence “I thought more people would be interested in knowing what happened to XXX, but I see that his fate, his life, doesn’t seem to bring folks together the way the water did,” would you use “don’t” instead of “doesn’t”? Or does that comma after “his life” keep the verb singular? The author will not tolerate the insertion of “and” between “his life” and “his fate.”

Good for the author!

Admittedly, it can be hard when your editor works for a publisher. But often, even when you’ve hired an editor yourself, it can be hard to remember: the editor is supposed to make your life easier, not harder. Our job is to provide you with new ideas, new information that will help you create exactly what you want to create.

If I’m doing my job, responses to an edit I suggest (yes, suggest) will be like these:

• Thanks! I was having trouble describing that.
• I can see where my original was unclear, but this doesn’t quite work either. How about… ? and occasionally…
• That doesn’t work. I’m keeping it the way it was.

What I really love is how the writer and I almost always come to agreement on each change, because we’re both working toward the same goal: helping the writer’s ideas come through. I question them, they question me, and we both learn things.

If you have an editor who thinks their ideas are more important than yours, or doesn’t want you to challenge their edits, run!

In case you’re curious, here’s the answer the terrific Chicago editors gave.

A. “Doesn’t” is correct, and “and” would change the meaning of the sentence. “Life” here is a gloss on “fate,” a parenthetical explanation or extension of it, not an additional item. Your author is right—but you have left us hanging about the curiously unifying properties of this water.

Remember to always split infinitives.

Well, ok, not always. But often. Whenever it works.

We have this handed-down wisdom that says an infinitive, a verb of the “to form” — to walk, to amble, to mosey — must always be preserved intact. Rules like this cripple writing. Even the esteemed editors of the Chicago Manual of Style agree with me.

In this day and age, it seems, an injunction against splitting infinitives is one of those shibboleths whose only reason for survival is to give increased meaning to the lives of those who can both identify by name a discrete grammatical, syntactic, or orthographic entity and notice when that entity has been somehow besmirched. — Chicago Manual Q&A

Concern yourself first with clarity and a pleasing sound. We do need grammar rules, but only when they help us achieve those things. When they get in the way, they should be ignored.

It’s not really as scary as it looks. You can get an idea of the common-sense approach the Chicago people take by checking out their Q&A page.

Sure, there are more user-friendly options for writers, but for the professional editor, The Chicago Manual is indispensable. I use it to jog my memory, to solve sticky problems (like how to hyphenate “early twenty-first-century French furniture”) and to help with style decisions, along with The Associated Press Stylebook and others.