1114. This week, we look at the history and purpose of indents, from medieval manuscripts to modern word processors, and the difference between a first-line indent and a hanging indent. Then, we look at the fascinating, multi-layered story behind the word "Formica," and its connection to both a plastic substitute for mica and the Latin word for "ant."
1114. This week, we look at the history and purpose of indents, from medieval manuscripts to modern word processors, and the difference between a first-line indent and a hanging indent. Then, we look at the fascinating, multi-layered story behind the word "Formica," and its connection to both a plastic substitute for mica and the Latin word for "ant."
The indent segment was written by Jim Norrena, MFA, who has been writing, editing, and leading grammar and proofreading workshops for more than thirty-five years. He founded TypoSuction.com, an independent editorial service, and is a member of Bay Area Editors’ Forum. He also serves on the board of Professional Publishers Network. You can find him at LinkedIn.
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Grammar Girl here. I’m Mignon Fogarty, your friendly guide to the English language. Today, we're going to talk about why we have indents in documents and when and how to use them. And then I have an interesting correction and extension about where we get the word "Formica."
By Jim Norrena
To indent or not to indent? That is the question. (And it’s a question even Shakespeare probably struggled with.)
It’s easy to take these harmless little blank spaces that frequently appear at the beginning of a paragraph for granted. Yet surprisingly, indentation has a rich history, offers plenty of functionality, and depicts changing aesthetics.
So why is it that we only sometimes use indents? Is there an indentation rule? If so, what is it?
The answer is both yes and no. It depends on your industry style guide. Trade book publishing follows The Chicago Manual of Style, so it generally uses indents. The Modern Language Association, American Medical Association, and American Psychological Association also recommend indenting.
On the other hand, journalism, which uses Associated Press style, doesn't use indents.
The publication type also determines indentation. In addition to books and newspapers, magazines, journals, ebooks (yes, they're different), websites and blogs, podcasts, and more all have specific guidelines.
So although indenting itself isn't a "right" or "wrong" thing, you’ll need to follow your company’s style guide — at least that is while you’re on the clock!
Technically speaking, an indent is a paragraph setting. And the goal of any manuscript is to have the first line of each paragraph consistently spaced throughout.
In Microsoft Word, you can customize the size of your first-line indentation by going to Paragraph settings. Look for “First line indent” under “Special.” That's where you can adjust the indent size.
(In most word processing programs, you can also set the first-line indent by sliding the text ruler marker to whatever point you want.)
Then, each time you hit Return (or Enter), the preset—or designated—amount of space is added to the beginning of the new paragraph’s first line. Back when everyone wrote on typewriters, we used the tab key to make an indent at the beginning of paragraphs. People sometimes also typed five spaces, but either way, the indent amounted to half an inch.
Today, we use indents, not tabs. But watch out: Because the half-inch standard setting is the same for both tabs and indents; they can easily be mistaken for one another. Using a customized first-line paragraph indent setting solves this problem because then the indent and tab can have different sizes.
Manuscript formatting, including indentation, is a specialized skill. If you or your editor are using professional typesetting software, all the indents will be consistent after you make your initial choice. And then if necessary, the software can modify the indentation in a manuscript in one fell swoop.
According to etymonline.com, it wasn’t until the 1670s that the more modern printing sense of the word “indent” appeared.
But the practice of indentation goes back to medieval manuscripts. Specialized scribes, called rubricators, routinely added letters and symbols to mark paragraph breaks. The letters were fancy, red-inked, and hand-drawn. The symbols, or glyphs, are called pilcrows. Today we call such elements “drop-caps.”
Once the printing process began to outpace the rubricators’ ability to add the pilcrows, the markers were often omitted. This resulted in blank spaces appearing in the manuscript. (1)
And this is how indents became a thing. Who would have imagined what’s essentially just a blank space would have such far-reaching history!
For more about print elements and their histories, listen to episode 1096. It features an exciting interview with Keith Houston, author of Face with Tears of Joy: A Natural History of Emoji.
That’s right. There are three main types of indentation: first-line; hanging; and block. (Right- and left-indents also exist, but are considered more like cousins.)
A first-line indent means the first line of a new paragraph is indented, but none of the following lines. Every time you hit Enter, a new paragraph results with the first line indented. This is the most common type of indent. (And you may have never noticed this before, but you don’t actually indent the first paragraph of a new book chapter or section. By definition, an indent serves to indicate a new paragraph. The first paragraph is presumed to be obviously new.)
Next are hanging indents. Here, the first line of a new paragraph is not indented, but rather all subsequent lines are. This may seem odd, but hanging indents come in handy in situations such as bibliographies.
And finally, we have the block indent, which has left and right indents for all lines of text. Its purpose, as its name implies, is to block off certain text to distinguish it. The Chicago Manual of Style recommends block indentation for quotes that are five lines or longer. Harvard University style recommends forty words or greater.
So, the half-inch-indent rule is dated. Hard stop. Doing so tells the reader, “Hey, I think I’m on a typewriter.” Today, it’s good practice to manually reduce the length of your first-line indentation setting so it’s less jarring than an old-fashioned tab. Don't dismiss tabs completely though; we still use the tab key to bounce from field to field when filling out forms online..
To understand how the half-inch rule became standard, we need to first look at mono- and proportional-spaced characters. With monospaced characters, which is what a typewriter uses, each character has the same width. An “i” is given the same space as a “w,” which doesn’t seem quite fair.
Most contemporary computer fonts are proportional-spaced. A character’s horizontal spacing is now proportional to its width. For example, an “i” is proportionally spaced smaller than a “w.” The result is an “i” and a “w” now fit closer together, much more naturally.
Proportional spaced type is more readable and easier to skim. Overall comprehension improves. And it certainly looks more professional. (2)
Monospaced type lends itself to awkwardly spaced sentences. For this reason, we needed longer indents to offset new paragraphs better, and somebody somewhere came up with half an inch. One thing’s for certain: We all agreed to do it that way for decades!
Today, typesetters use proportional indents that complement the text’s appearance, so a bigger font will have a bigger indent and a smaller font will have a smaller indent.
The primary reason we indent paragraphs is to make them easier to read. Since indented paragraphs are easy to recognize, it's easier for us to anticipate changes in subject matter. Readers find it easier to skim, too, since indents serve as reference points along the left margin that make the structure easier to follow than a solid block of continuous text. (3)
Not everyone agrees, of course.
Paragraph spacing, mentioned earlier, is the space between paragraphs, and it serves the same purpose as indenting. Adding a second return between paragraphs makes each paragraph stand out too. (On typewriters, the same effect was only possible using two carriage returns.) Just like indenting, prominent breaks between paragraphs can help indicate a topical shift, and skimming is also noticeably easier.
Since old habits are hard to break, it’s still common for people to use two returns to add spacing between paragraphs. Fortunately, on a computer, though, you can customize spacing that’s smaller, creating better readability. Designers prefer it, and generally speaking, readers also seem to like it better.
But because both indents and paragraph spacing say to the reader, “Hey, I'm a new paragraph,” it’s essential not to use both. Choose one and stick with it.
Interestingly, paragraph spacing is actually preferred over indents when writing online. This is mostly because we read and digest online content differently from print content. The general argument is that indenting online text can be disruptive to the flow of content. And this could potentially compromise reading comprehension.
Aesthetics come into play, too. Indents can appear “old-fashioned” or even too formal. People generally seem to think paragraph spacing looks cleaner.
Also, you can get technical hiccups with indents when content shifts to smartphones and tablets. This is especially true if the indents were initially formatted incorrectly, for example by using spaces instead of a true indent.
Indentation can be like a verbal tick, like saying “um” or “well” before making a point. It’s not needed. And with a noticeable downward trend in using some punctuation, indentation, too, is sadly becoming a dying tradition.
But it’s a dying tradition that still has plenty of value.
If you intend to submit your book manuscript to a publisher, you’ll need to use indentation since this is the publishing standard. Using indents and tabs correctly will have professionals thinking, “Hey, this author knows their stuff,” and that’s exactly what you want.
The keyboard tab, on the other hand, adds a literal invisible character to each paragraph. The single-spacing techniq ue will add five characters. Either way, to make a universal change to the indentation, every single paragraph will need to be changed! This is time-consuming and costly.
Also, using tabs to indent can vary from one word processing program to another, leading to improper formatting. And tabbing may lead to unwanted results when presented across multiple devices.
By using first-line indentation, your document or manuscript will have consistent indentation throughout. Consistency lends your work a professional appearance.
Why not increase your likelihood of making a good first impression, or at least lessen your likelihood of making a poor one? When it comes to submitting your manuscript, every little bit helps.
Here’s the takeaway:
Indenting is a style choice that can have significant advantages—so long as you remember indents and tabs are not interchangeable. Using tabs or individual spaces for indents is a thing of the past. Accurate paragraph indenting can improve print and online readability. Proper indenting can improve workflow. And a better workflow helps you make a stronger professional impression.
Once you’re comfortable using indents correctly, you can go ahead and pull out all the stops!
That segment was written by Jim Norrena, MFA, who has been writing, editing, and leading grammar and proofreading workshops for more than thirty-five years. He founded TypoSuction.com, an independent editorial service, and is a member of Bay Area Editors’ Forum. He also serves on the board of Professional Publishers Network. You can find him at LinkedIn.
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by Mignon Fogarty
A Grammarpaloozian named David sent me an interesting correction about something Martha Barnette and I discussed in our interview back in July. We were talking about "formication" (with an M) – that creepy-crawly feeling of ants on your skin.
That name comes from the Latin word "formica," which means “ant.” "Formication" is often described as a tactile hallucination — a sensation that doesn't have a physical cause. And "Formica" is a genus of ant, given its name by Carl Linnaeus in 1758. But a fun detail is that the first citation for the genus name in the Oxford English Dictionary is in an 1865 quote by David Livingstone, the legendary explorer of "Dr. Livingstone, I presume" fame.
So anyway, when Martha mentioned that Formica countertops got their name from the words "for" and "mica," I had this lightbulb moment and said, "Oh my gosh, it's just 'for mica!'" and then we moved on. But David pointed out that we missed some really cool parts of the story!
So first, yes, Formica DOES come from a contraction of the words "for" and "mica." We got that part right! But this is where it gets interesting – Formica was an industrial product long before it was used in countertops.
The original Formica was a less expensive substitute for the material called mica that was used as an electrical insulator, and the name really was almost a joke in that the material really was just a substitute "for mica." It was originally developed by Herbert A. Faber and Daniel J. O'Conor at Westinghouse and was made by laminating sheets of Kraft paper and liquid Bakelite. (And if you're wondering what Bakelite is, it was one of the first synthetic plastics. Very revolutionary for the time!)
But Westinghouse wasn't as excited about Formica as Faber and O'Conor thought it should be, so they left and started their own company in 1913, the Formica Insulation Company, which led to patent-related legal problems. But fortunately for hip kitchens, diners, and more, our scrappy inventors prevailed.
So the countertop material we all know and maybe have in our kitchens came later. The company played around with different materials, and in 1938, they came up with a formulation using a melamine-formaldehyde resin that was resistant to cigarette burns, which made it especially good for products used by the public such as tabletops, desks, and dinette sets; and it showed up in cafes, nightclubs, and railway cars — even on the luxury ocean liner the Queen Mary.
The company largely took a break from consumer products during WWII and got back to its roots, making insulating products for the military, like airplane propeller parts; but after the war, it went back to the laminate products we think of today when we hear the name Formica.
BUT our language story doesn't end there because David also pointed out that the word "formaldehyde" is also related to our creepy crawly ants.
Formaldehyde gets its name from formic acid, which is the chemical that causes the burning feeling you get from some ant bites. And the "formic" part of "formic acid" comes from – you guessed it – "formica," the Latin word for "ant."
So to recap, the Latin word for "ant" — "formica" — gives us the name of a genus of ants, the word "formication" (the feeling of ants crawling on our skin), and the word "formaldehyde," which we find in the melamine-formaldehyde resin in Formica, which gets its name from "formic acid," which is the chemical that makes some ant bites burn.
"Formica," the brand of electrical insulation and later countertops, tables, and more that felt oh so modern in the 1950s, '60s, and '70s, is spelled just like the Latin word for "ant," but actually is a play on words because the original material was a substitute for the product known as mica.
Wow! Who knew there was so much to learn about Formica? David knew. That's who! So thanks again for the message, and thanks for supporting the show through your Grammarpalooza subscription.
If you want to become a supporter, visit quickanddirtytips.com/bonus to learn more.
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Finally, I have a familect story from Rachel.
Hi, Mignon. This is a familect that originated in the 1970s in the San Francisco Bay Area. It was the 1970s, and my great uncle Edgar had recently passed away. My dad and his brother were driving somewhere and realized their car was almost out of gasoline. The fuel gauge showed their car was on E, empty. I don't know if it was my dad or my uncle, but someone exclaimed, "Hey, we gotta pull over for gas. We're on Edgar!" My now 74-year-old dad continues to use this phrase today when running low on gas. I didn't realize until I was an adult that this wasn't just him making up a silly word that started with E. He was making a loving but dark call back to a family member who is no longer with us.
Thank you, Rachel! That's both a sweet and funny story about remembering your great uncle. Thanks so much for the call.
If you want to share the story of your familect, a word or phrase that you only use with your friends or family, leave a message on the voicemail line at 83-321-4-GIRL or leave a voice message on WhatsApp. Be sure to call from a nice, quiet place, and if you want that number or link later, you can always find them in the show notes.
Grammar Girl is a Quick and Dirty Tips podcast. Thanks to Dan Feierabend in audio; Morgan Christianson in advertising; Nat Hoopes in marketing; Rebekah Sebastian in marketing; and Holly Hutchings, director of podcasts who loves to ride 4-wheelers.
And I'm Mignon Fogarty, better known as Grammar Girl and author of the tip a day book, "The Grammar Daily." That's all. Thanks for listening.