Could you read this for me?

This is a common enough subject line on Playfriend emails. Usually it’s something small like a synopsis or a letter that needs to be checked for typos (or just that it makes sense). Fast, quick and easy. Sometimes we’ll send out a plea for someone to read a couple of chapters, but that’s not often, and it’s purely voluntary. Nothing is expected, and no one gets mad at you if you don’t have time to do it.

I also don’t mind—honestly—when folks email to ask me English teacher-type questions. I’ve explained dangling modifiers a thousand times, so what’s one more? It’s not like I have to go do research or anything. A couple of sentences, maybe a paragraph-- it’s five minutes, tops, out of my day, and I figure it’s good karma if nothing else. As a proud Grumpy Grammarian, it’s my duty to help make the world a more grammatical place.

Now, every newbie author learns soon enough not to email folks (especially published authors) out of the blue and ask them to read their WIP. It’s Rude. Tacky. Not Done. (Okay, so I did it once. But I’m very good friends with that author and only asked her to read a chapter because I’d gotten editor feedback that my characterization was spotty and she’s soooo good at characterization. But I told her I’d understand if she didn’t want to or couldn’t for some reason. I sent her a giftie afterwards, too.)

Interestingly enough, I’m already getting requests from people who ask me to read their stuff—and I’m only barely “published.” I’m not comfortable doing it (because I’m not sure I know all that much anyway) but it’s very uncomfortable to say no.

However, there’s recently been a rash of emails from people wanting me to read their research papers. I’ve hooked up with a lot of old friends from high school and college via Facebook, and it seems a lot of them are back in school for various reasons. Ack. Like I really want to read another paper on Iago’s motivations in Othello. I’m not even sure my comments could be much help—the grading of essays is just as subjective as the judging of manuscripts. Plus, with essays, I don’t know what the teacher has assigned, what they’ve talked about in class, or what the teacher is looking for. What I wanted my students to produce and what that teacher is looking for may be totally different things. Other than basics—organization, structure, grammar—or telling you that you’ve confused Iago and Roderigo in paragraph five, there’s not much I can really help with.

If I don’t help, though, I’m mean. If I do help, and the teacher gives it a bad grade anyway, I’m stupid. Can’t win for losing on that one.

Plus, these are folks I haven’t seen in 15+ years! Why are they asking me? They have zero proof, beyond my claims to degrees and teaching experience, that I have a clue as to what I’m doing. And honestly, if I’m not on your Christmas card list any more, I don’t think you should be sending me a 20-page research paper and asking me to “fix” it for you. I don’t care that you held my hair back while I puked after the Motley Crue concert in 1987. While very appreciated at the time, I think the window to collect on that debt closed a long time ago.

The Etiquette Hell site recommends “I’m afraid that won’t be possible” as a good response to unsolicited (or unreasonable) requests for time, energy or money. What do you think? While technically polite response, it seems to beg the question “Why not?”

I did like the response Karen from Will and Grace would use: “Oh I would, honey, but I don’t want to.” But that doesn’t seem quite right either.

So I’m open to suggestions…

PC

P.S. The Playground gives a big shout-out to Barbara Vey who is celebrating her birthday today.