Formatting For ebooks and Print - Part 1: The Ellipsis

One of the biggest gripes readers have about self-published writers, aside from typos, which is gripe number one, is that their ebooks and print books look unprofessional. This post is the first of several I plan on writing about formatting books for distribution.

I have a background in typography, as a hobby. Years ago I studied typography as if it was my profession, even though it wasn’t. I bought a couple dozen good books on the subject and own about three thousand typefaces. (Could you guess I have a compulsive personality?) I had the best-looking business brochures.

Now that I’m (finally) ready to offer THE MIGHTY T as a print book, I’m hoping all those hours spent pouring over typography how-to books will come in handy.

Today I’d like to talk about the ellipsis, as it’s commonly used in today’s printed fiction. In case you don’t know, an ellipsis is used when a character doesn’t finish his or her sentence, either because they still thinking about what they’d like to say, can’t remember a word, or they drift off on purpose to allow the person or persons they’re speaking to finish the sentence for them.

For example, from THE MIGHTY T, Chapter 1:

“Shut up!” he shouted at them. “You’re gonna fuh . . . fuh . . . fuh . . . screw this up!”

In this example, Danny, the crazy sniper, is trying to say the F-word, but can’t.

Here’s another example:

“We were planning on taking the kids to Mulligans later,” Bensen said. “Drive them around the go-cart course and let ’em whack each other with golf clubs, but we can do that next Saturday . . .” He trailed off, letting Grant make the call.

Here Bensen “trails off” to allow Grant to make the decision as to whether they’ll return to the dam that night, or tomorrow. Grant picks tomorrow because it’s not urgent-urgent, and his friend already had an evening planned with his family.

I imagine that “trailing off” may not necessarily be verbal, but rather may be body language or a certain expression. Instead of explaining all that, you can add an ellipsis, followed by a few words of explanation if the reason for the ellipsis isn’t obvious to the reader.

I use the ellipsis quite a bit in dialogue because most people I hang around with don’t speak in full and correct sentences. We get distracted and don’t finish our thoughts; we open our mouths before we know what we’re going to say, necessitating a hasty retreat when we realize we might say something we’ll regret; we stutter; and we “trail off” as Bensen did. I think it adds realism to dialogue.

Typographically speaking, when printing an ellipsis you should use the ellipsis character, which is not just three periods in a row but rather the ASCII character produced by holding down the Alt key while typing 1 3 3 on the numeric keypad. (On the PC; Mac users will have to figure it out.) This produces this character:

…

Notice that it’s slightly different from typing three periods in a row:

...

The spacing is different. (In printed text, the ASCII ellipsis is wider than three periods typed in succession. It may not look the same on your computer monitor.)

After considerable study, most modern works of fiction are not typeset using the typographical ellipsis because it would look awkward on the printed page or ebook reader. Instead of the ellipsis character, typesetters now use this:

. . .

A space followed by a period, followed by a space, followed by a period, followed by a space, followed by a period—three spaces before three periods. After the last period you add another space if there are more words before the closing quotes, or any punctuation, even the closing quotes, other than a period. (See my examples if this isn’t clear.) Typographically, if the ellipsis ends the sentence you should add a final period. I just don’t see it being done, though, so I leave it off.

Why are modern novels set like this when it’s typographically incorrect? Because it improves the spacing on the printed or electronic page, especially on the printed page as all modern novels are set with justified text, not ragged-right.

“Justified” text means the last letter of the last word of each line in a paragraph lines up on the right, like how this paragraph is set. Page setting software has to add space between words to make the line stretch. Setting ellipses with a space before the ellipsis, and spaces in between each period, allows the software to stretch the ellipsis, making the line more visually appealing to the eye. 

I have several reading apps on my iPad;  most allow me to view the text with either ragged-right or justified paragraphs. Writing the ellipses as I suggest improves the appearance of ragged-right paragraphs, though perhaps not as much as with justified paragraphs.


I hope you’ve found this information helpful. Obviously, it’s better if you can afford to pay someone to format your manuscripts for you, but if you have to do it yourself, you might as well do it right.

Cops: The Feds Vs. Locals

“People,” Johansen said to the group, after she and Grant walked into the room. “This is the detective from Modesto I told you about, Grant Starr. Detective Starr, will you tell us what you know about the unsubs?”

Grant spent the next ten minutes telling a gaggle of agents and officers from local, state, and federal law enforcement agencies what he knew about Samuel Raimes, III, which wasn’t a lot, and what he suspected. 

“So,” someone in a fed shirt said, “you don’t have any evidence. Your case against this guy is all circumstantial.”

“No, we have some evidence,” Grant said. “Not on Raimes, but we have solid evidence on the woman, Mindy. We have her fingerprints and she was ID’ed by a witness. We think she was here this morning and killed the two dam operators. They were knifed, which is her MO.

“We also got some prints off a steel shed they put up in La Grange. One of them came back army, a guy who was discharged after getting caught with drugs. His and another set of prints were found on evidence at the house of the MID guy who got killed the same night the TID guy got killed. So we have that, too.”

“But against the guy, Raimes, you got nothing,” the fed said.

“Well, hell,” Grant said, a little pissed off at the fed. “At least I got something. What’d you bring to the party?”

“I just got here.”

“Well, until you have something, I suggest you shut the fuck up.”

“Hey…” The guy stood, and Grant took a step his way.

The noise level in the room ratcheted up: feds sat up and thrust their shoulders back, making their chairs creak; locals snickered and pivoted to look at the fed, who was ten inches shorter than Grant.

Johansen stood and said, “Guys, a pissing match isn’t going to help us find the unsubs.” Grant and the fed continued their stare-down. “This is a national tragedy, the worst thing since 9/11. Let’s try and keep our heads here.” She placed a hand on Grant’s chest, not pushing, touching.

This scene from THE MIGHTY T takes place at the New Don Pedro Dam in La Grange, California. The terrorist who calls himself John Lightfoot had just successfully attacked the O'Shaunessy Dam at Hetch Hetchy, causing a near-catastrophic flood. The feds have moved in and taken over the investigation.

Detectives Grant Starr and Ralph Bensen were at Don Pedro when the flood hit. Grant needed to call his chief but Don Pedro has no cell coverage, forcing him to ask to use a landline in a building Homeland Security has taken for their headquarters. He tries desperately to avoid Area Supervisor Barbara Johansen, knowing if she sees him he'll likely get sucked into Fed World and lose half the day.

Grant finds a phone and makes his call. He and Bensen are about to enjoy some free fed snacks, coffee and pastries, when Grant hears Johansen's voice calling him from somewhere down the hall. She asks him to brief a gaggle of cops and he gets sucked into Fed World, as he feared he would.

I'm not a cop, nor has anyone in my family, to my knowledge, ever been in law enforcement. What I know about how well federal cops get along with local cops I learned from TV and novels—so take this as fiction if you like. I imagine the locals don't like it when the feds march in and take over investigations; it's gotta be a pride thing.

I took advantage of this real, or imagined, animosity to create some conflict in my story. Stories without conflict are dull. I was pulling for Grant, of course; he shoulda punched the weasel fed in the nose!

Peach-Mango Salsa

Peach Salsa: Not mine, but very similar.

I've been a salsa nut since I worked at a Mexican restaurant in 1981. It was a cloth-napkin kind of place the owner called a "Mexican Fiestaraunt." I was part of the crew that opened the restaurant, the owner's second. Initially, he said we could eat anything on the menu. That changed when he learned we were eating all the crab enchiladas and mud pies. I also learned to love liver and onions while working there.

To say I'm a salsa nut isn't exactly correct. I'm an addict. Seriously, chips and salsa are to me what I would imagine crack cocaine is to a drug addict. I could chip-out until my stomach bursts.

I didn't start making my own salsa until college. I saw the recipe for a salsa made by a local restaurant in an issue of Bon Appétit, tried it, liked it, and I've been making my own since.

Every Mexican restaurant has their own recipe, I'm sure. Some are better than others and some restaurants are inconsistent; it's hot one day and mild the following week. Almost all are a variation of a blended product with fresh cilantro and green onions added after the blending. Very few serve "pico de gallo"-style salsa, which is fresh, chunky, and definitely not blended. It's also called salsa cruda.

The recipe I'm sharing today is a pico de gallo salsa. I make others based on fire-roasted tomatoes or tomatillos, but they're blended into a sauce as opposed to being left chunky like this recipe. They're all good, though.

Peach-Mango Salsa

Ingredients:

1 large peach
1 medium mango.
Fresh garden tomatoes.
1 small onion, red, yellow, or white
Garlic to taste
Chili peppers, fresh and dried
Cilantro
Lemon or lime juice, if desired
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

Cut the onion in half or thirds, depending on its size, and brush each side with olive oil. Roast the peppers and onions on the grill, the peppers until they're black, the onions as much as you like. No grill? I saw Alton Brown, on the Food Channel, roast peppers over a gas range using one of those metal steamer gadgets you usually put in a sauce pan when steaming veggies. You can also broil them in the oven. Set the peppers aside until cool; they should be very soft. Clean them under running water until you've removed all the charred skin. Slice them down the middle and remove the seeds and membranes. Dice the cooked pepper flesh and onion and place in a bowl.

I like dried arbol chilis so I added three or four. Break off the stem and cut them open with kitchen shears. Clean out the seeds and membranes as best you can and cut them into small pieces with the shears, letting the pieces fall into the bowl. If you try and chop them with a knife they'll shoot all over the counter. You don't need to rehydrate them beforehand as they'll rehydrate in the salsa, soaking up the tomato and fruit juices. I've used dried chipoltles, passillos, and aji peppers before.

Dice the peach and mango and add to the bowl. Dice as many tomatoes as you'd like. I used far less than I usually do this time because there was a lot of peach and mango. I use a garlic press when making salsa because it's easy and gives you more garlic flavor. You can chop or dice the garlic if you like. Chop and add the cilantro and season with salt and pepper, or any other spice you like. Add lemon or lime juice if you want. I didn't this time. Sometimes I put a little olive oil in to help meld the flavors.

Stir well and taste with a chip. Adjust the seasonings, add more tomato or cilantro if needed. Set in fridge for at least thirty minutes to let the dried peppers rehydrate. It's best after a few hours or the next day.

Notes:

The peach and mango should be ripe but not too soft, especially the peach. Mango holds its shape well in a salsa but if the peach is too soft it'll fall apart. I used a white peach and red mango in this recipe, but most peaches and mangoes will work fine.

The fresh peppers were one passilla, one jalapeño, and two sweet peppers. I got the jalapeño and sweet peppers at a farmers' market, the passilla came from the grocery store. Grocery store peppers have been "dummied down" to suit a gringo's taste; they rarely have any spice anymore. Farmers' market peppers are the real deal.

I had planned on adding a fresh serrano pepper but the jalapeño was so hot it wasn't needed. After cleaning the roasted peppers I taste them to see how spicy they are so I can guess at how many dried or fresh ones I might want to add. This jalapeño was as hot as a habanero pepper. Our 16-year-old daughter was watching me make the salsa so I gave her a bit of the pepper to try, before I knew how hot it was. Her tongue immediately came out and her eyeballs almost popped out of her head. I handled the pepper with my bare hands; my fingers were still tingling this morning.

The reason for adding different types of peppers—roasted, fresh, and dried—is to, as Alton Brown says, create different layers of spice. It works great.

I like my salsa spicier than anyone I know, but if I make it that spicy I have to eat the whole bowl myself and bear the glares of my family. So I compromise: I try to make it hot enough to make everyone else stop eating after three or four minutes. If they can eat the stuff for fifteen minutes, it's too mild! I'm afraid I'll be eating most of this batch. When I tried it this morning, it was pretty spicy. All from one very hot jalañeno. Go figure.

This salsa is also good with a diced avocado. You could use also green onions if you like, but I like the smoky flavor of the grilled onion better.

Give it a try, salsa lovers!