The Comma Commissar: Chronicles of the Red Pen Revolutionary

Estimated reading time: 4 minutes

The Details

So, gather round, folks, for the juicy tale of the late, great editorial maestro, William Whitworth. If you’re as clueless as an intern on their first coffee run in the labyrinth of magazine publishing, allow me to illuminate you with the torch of Whitworth’s legacy. The man was a legend, an editor with the Midas touch for turning journalistic straw into literary gold.

He had a stint at The New Yorker that would make any resume blush with inferiority, transforming the publication into what some might call a veritable treasure trove of narrative journalism. The piece in question from our beloved newspaper of the elite gives us a posthumous pat on the back to good ol’ Will for his eagle eyes and his commitment to keeping writers from embarrassing themselves publicly, a noble cause if there ever was one.

The Breakdown

  • The Man Who Could Smell Fear in Punctuation
    Whitworth could sniff out an extra comma from a mile away. The article recalls how he kept writers straight, ensuring that not a single semicolon was out of place. Rumor has it, he once edited a rogue ellipsis that was trying to sneak its way into a three-dot monologue.
  • The Ghostwriter’s Patron Saint
    The unsung hero of many of your favorite pieces, Whitworth was the behind-the-scenes puppet master, pulling the strings of verbose writers. He knew just how to trim the fat, leaving only the leanest, meanest prose to print.
  • The “Less is More” Evangelist
    Ever read something so gripping that you forgot to breathe? Thank Whitworth for that. This article lavishes praise on him for cutting down florid prose until it was as concise as a tweet – which in his day, would be some black magic wizardry.
  • The Purveyor of the ‘Oh, Really?’ Moments
    William had a knack for making journalists look smarter by nixing their clichés and face-palm-worthy gaffes, saving numerous literary reputations from the brink of disaster.
  • The Terminator of Editorial Nightmares
    Ever wake up in a cold sweat, worried you used “there” instead of “their”? Whitworth probably never slept, given his dedication to preventing such apocalyptic errors.

The Counter

  • The Tyrant of the Tracked Changes
    Sure, he was detail-oriented, but let’s face it – he must’ve caused some serious writer ego bruising with his relentless red pen. There’s a fine line between a grammar god and a punctuation dictator.
  • The Slasher of Purple Prose
    Purple prose needs love too! Our article forgets that some people out there actually enjoy getting lost in the flowery fields of verbose verbosity, elegantly tripping over embellishments like a graceful gazelle.
  • The Serial Comma Killer
    SERIAL comma? Sounds like a grammatical crime thriller! Maybe Whitworth was a little too cutthroat with our friend the Oxford comma. Can a little punctuation really cause such chaos?
  • The Grinch Who Stole Wordiness
    It’s said that verbosity is next to godliness—or is that cleanliness? Either way, the article seems to forget that sometimes a good ramble really warms the heart and fills the page.
  • The Buzzkill of Banter
    If Whitworth had his way, every writer’s personality would be trimmed out. The man probably saw humor as just another fat slice to be trimmed from the meat of the matter.

The Hot Take

Now, if you believe the silver tongues at The New Yorker, this Whitworth character was like the editorial superhero journalists needed but never knew they wanted. We should clone him, they imply, to save our future generations from the perils of passive voice and the pandemic of punctuation ignorance.

But here’s my scorching hot take: let’s just unleash an army of grammar bots on social media comments. With their algorithms fueled by Whitworth’s spirit, they’d annihilate typo terrorists and bring about world peace— or, at least, peace of mind for anyone who’s ever cringed at “your” when it should be “you’re.” A simple fix, powered by the soul of a man who probably never LOL’d in his life.

Source: Remembering William Whitworth’s Editorial Eye

Sabrina Bryan, from Tempe to D.C., has made a splash as a writer with a knack for turning political sandstorms into compelling narratives. In three short years, she's traded desert heat for political heat, using her prickly determination to write stories with the tenacity of a cactus. Her sharp wit finds the humor in bureaucracy, proving that even in the dry world of politics, she can uncover tales as invigorating as an Arizona monsoon.

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