Part of my day job as a newspaper editor is to, well, edit. To review copy for spelling, style and content. And sometimes make long stories short. The same holds true for my other job as a mystery novelist.

It’s a mostly rewarding task. More so when I need only a polishing cloth to make language shine. Less so when a wrecking ball is required to demolish huge chunks of text and rebuild them word by word like brick walls.

The process has turned me into something of a fussbudget, though. Actually, make that curmudgeon aggravated by the least transgression. WHAT? You used further instead of farther? Are you out of your mind? Criminy. What a dolt.

At the beginning of my journalistic career, I expressed my frustrations using the pencil with which I edited typewritten copy. My weapon of choice was a Mirado Black Warrior loaded with No. 2 lead. Not to brag, but I was a young gun who wielded it with deadly proficiency. These days, I pound away at my keyboard to correct mistakes. And grumble loudly enough the nice woman who works next door to the newspaper office probably wonders about my emotional stability. I don’t blame her.

Let me be honest. I appreciate technology and the efficiency it’s brought to newspaper journalism and book publishing. I don’t want to go back to writing with a typewriter and editing with a pencil any more than I’d want to dip a quill into an inkwell. The good old days were anything but.

I remain exasperated, however, by what I contend is another consequence of technology. Despite the very software intended to prevent them, mistakes appear more frequently in the written word. The need for speed has supplanted respect for the language of Shakespeare. Does somebody, anybody, know the differences among their, there and they’re? How about its and it’s? Capitalization has become a popularity contest. If a word looks or sounds important, by all means go ahead and capitalize it.

The problem is nearly ubiquitous in informal communications, especially text messages, but has spread like a virus to infect more formal channels.

Although I’m confident enough to lament the mistakes I detect in spelling and style, I’m less assured about punctuation marks. That’s because even experts must agree to disagree about punctuation marks.

Take the Oxford comma, for example. No. Really. Take it. Please. There are those who love the Oxford comma. I loathe it.

I feel the same way about semicolons. Abraham Lincoln considered the semicolon a “useful little chap.” I side with Kurt Vonnegut and his lesson on writing: “Do not use semicolons. … All they do is show you’ve been to college.”

Don’t even get me started on exclamation points. Perhaps F. Scott Fitzgerald put it best: “An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke.”

The risk, of course, of writing about editing is a mistake will appear in the very blog I’ve edited. That’s not to mention the sentences I tend to leave incomplete. Entirely on purpose. For all those eagle-eyed readers out there, I welcome you to swoop right in and let me know what you spotted.

In the meantime, I’ll just keep on editing. That’s part of my jobs.

I’d like to believe I bring some skills to the conversations and other interactions in which I engage. If not skills, then at least experience.

As a newspaper journalist, I’ve spent 42 of my nearly 63 years on the planet getting paid to talk to people and listen — really listen — to what they tell me. That’s a lot of practice. While it hasn’t necessarily made me a perfect conversationalist, I’d assert it’s made me better one.

It’s also made me something of an anachronism in an age when people are more connected by technology than ever before, yet struggle to connect personally. It’s perplexing, because I can’t think of a more crucial ability, one that applies to nearly every aspect of life. While many factors go into success, never underestimate the importance of relationships.

I don’t claim to offer any expertise. I’m willing to lay a bet, though, some of what I’ve learned in my career applies to interactions. The next time you’re involved in an interaction — a business meeting, family gathering or just lunch with friends — engage like a journalist.

Here are four tips — call them talking points — to consider:

Be prepared. I never go into an interview without first conducting as much background research as time allows. And then planning not only the questions I’ll pose, but also their order. Think about what you want to talk about. If you need to ask for something, contemplate the reasons why. Even with a script of sorts, I don’t necessarily stick to it. Remain flexible enough to steer in a different direction and discover where that takes you. I conclude interviews by asking if there’s a question I DIDN’T pose. This affords an opportunity to bring up other and perhaps even more important information.

Ask the right questions. I’m interested in finding out not only the who, what, when and where, but also the how and especially the why. Ask people what motivates them and chances are good you’ll gain insights that prove valuable in developing deeper relationships.

Demonstrate your interest. This might be easier for me than others because I really am interested in the people I interview. They’ve got news I want to gather. That attribute extends beyond sources, though. Everyone is a subject matter expert on something. They’ve got fascinating information they’d love to relate if only someone would ask them. You might discover a shared passion that could serve as the beginning of beautiful friendship. 

Above all, listen. Intently and purposefully. My work as a journalist has trained me to listen to what people tell me — not the next opportunity to interject my thoughts. Listen not only to what others say, but also the ways in which they say it. Are they animated, reticent or something in between? Watch, too. Not all communication is verbal. I make it a point to turn off my phone before an interview so I’m not interrupted. Turn off your phone and then listen as if you’d have to subsequently write a story about the conversation.

There are differences between journalism and life, of course. Not every encounter should turn into an interview. But there are also similarities in the opportunities journalism and life afford to glean information and, more important still, establish rapport and build trust.

Want to connect? Really connect? Engage like a journalist.

I’m usually resolved at this time of year to do something. Get fit. Read more. Or better still, find that literary agent who shares my passion to tell my stories.

Don’t get me wrong. I plan to query agents in 2021. More fervently, if anything.

Otherwise, I’ve decided on a different approach. Rather than compile a list of goals I aspire to achieve, I’m going to strive instead to avoid those things I shouldn’t do.

So here are my New Year’s resolutions of different sort. My list of don’ts. I’m sharing in case others might find it useful. But I’m not so much preaching as confessing. These are things I expect to work on in the year ahead. Clearly, I’ve got a lot work to do.

Don’t whine. I mention this first because I’m most often guilty of the offense. Yet, who am I to complain in a world full of people who face more challenging difficulties? Especially in the midst of a pandemic. Moreover, I’ve finally come to the realization it makes more sense to just go ahead and try to fix problems than harp about fixing them.

Don’t try to impress. The people who impress me most are those who try the least to do so. They’re so good at what they do, it’s self-evident. No aggrandizement required. What’s more, they’re far too smart to believe they’re smarter than anyone else. That sounds paradoxical, but it’s not. Intelligent people know they can learn something from nearly every situation and nearly every person they encounter.

Don’t live in the past. This applies equally to failures and successes. Learn from mistakes, but don’t dwell on them. See them as the opportunities they are to improve and try, try again. Forgive not only yourself, but also others. When someone makes a mistake, respond with understanding rather than blame. What goes around really does come around. The next time you need help, who do you think is more likely to come to your rescue? The same goes for triumphs. While it’s easy to rest on laurels, don’t. The true measure of success isn’t one or two wins, however remarkable, but excellence sustained over time.

Don’t wait. It’s tempting to put off those tasks we deem important, yet not so important they require our immediate attention. It can wait a day. Right? But then another day passes. Then another. It’s far worse to defer our dreams. Whether it’s a short jaunt or long journey, the most important thing is to take that first step toward a desired destination. Just get started.

Don’t let fear hold you back. I’ve saved what I consider the best advice for last. Not only because it’s important at a time when it’s understandable to be fearful, but also because I’m particularly susceptible to this foible. The obstacles we build up in our minds are far more daunting than what we’re likely to actually experience. What we perceive as mountains really are more often molehills. The best way to overcome fears? Confront them and see them for what they usually are — unfounded.

Every new year — every new day, for that matter — affords another opportunity to try something different. More important, to make a difference.

What will you do, or not do, in 2021 to make a difference?

I’m haunted by the ghosts of Christmas. It’s an experience that’s delightful, not frightful. One of fond memories, grateful appreciation and optimistic expectation.

At the risk of plagiarizing even more, I imagine I’m like Ebenezer Scrooge, the protagonist of the famous Charles Dickens novella. Not the miserly recluse, mind you, but the benevolent extrovert made so by the spirits of the season.

Maybe I’m either hopelessly naive or naively hopeful, but I believe Christmas affects most people that way. They’re more giving, more sociable and more cheerful. We all could all use more of that, couldn’t we? Especially as an antidote to a ravaging pandemic and rancorous politics.

Even a brief stroll down memory lane evokes vivid recollections of Christmases past. 

I was 5, snuggled into bed on Christmas Eve and too excited to sleep. Suddenly, there was loud thump on the roof above my bedroom as if a heavy object landed there. A sleigh perhaps? I squeezed shut eyes as big as saucers, fearful even a furtive glimpse of Santa outside my window would send him away before he completed his delivery. While I’ll concede the possibility it wasn’t Santa, I remain convinced otherwise.

Childhood Christmas mornings brought joyous discoveries. I was as amazed as I was thrilled. It was … magic.

As a parent, I discovered even more thrilling moments in watching my two sons tear into gift-wrapped packages. 

I was spoiled. My children were too. But it wasn’t so much the material things I received or my sons received that made the experiences indelible. I can’t remember now some of the things I believed back then I needed so badly. Rather, they were moments when dreams came true. You never forget those.

Christmases present bring still more gifts. Chief among them cherished relationships with family and friends and time spent together.

If there’s a silver lining to the cloud of a pandemic, it’s that my two sons and remarkable daughter-in-law work remotely and have done so from my home. The result: an unprecedented opportunity to spend time with them. We’ve hiked, played disc golf and savored wine. I couldn’t ask for a better gift than that.

Who knows what Christmases yet to come will bring. I’m optimistic, though, even happier holidays await.

Presented with the grim possibilities of his future, Scrooge changed his ways to embody the spirit of Christmas. It’s a cautionary tale. Never underestimate the influence of Christmas or, for that matter, the power of a do-over.

In the meantime, I’ll steal a few more words from Dickens.

God bless us, every one.

As both a newspaper journalist and mystery novelist, I fight to write tight. I endeavor to reach a conclusion without using too many words to get there. I prefer lean, muscular prose to corpulent bloviation. 

Compared to some authors, though, I’m a profligate who squanders words the way a drunken sailor spends money.

Consider, for example, Theodor Geisel. Better known as Dr. Seuss, Geisel wrote and illustrated some 60 children’s books that sold a total of more than 600 million copies. More impressive, he did so with few tools at his disposal.

Challenged to write a compelling book using a short list of words deemed important for first-graders to recognize, Dr. Seuss produced “The Cat in the Hat.” He used only 236 different words. He was just warming up.

Bennett Cerf, co-founder of the Random House publishing firm, bet Dr. Seuss $50 he couldn’t write an entertaining children’s book using just 50 distinct words. The result was “Green Eggs and Ham.” Cerf never paid up, but the book sold more than 200 million copies.

I’m envious of those kinds of numbers, small and big. I share one thing in common with Dr. Seuss, though: I realize the benefits of limits. 

Newspaper journalists have only so many column inches on pages for their stories. Novelists enjoy more room to write, but also face limits that vary with genre. Novelists who use 150,000 words to build brave new worlds in science fiction might have to make do with half that for even the steamiest romances. Newspaper websites and electronic books afford additional space. But other limits remain, among them the time of readers. 

Less really can be more, however. Journalists present the most important information first. Novelists tell succinct stories. It’s a refining process — one beginning with a large quantity of raw material, but ending with a smaller amount of something pure and valuable.

No one will ever match Dr. Seuss for his ability to turn a few words and poetic meter into such endearing tales. Least of all me. I could not write it in a box. I could not write it with a fox.

But I’ll continue my fight to write it tight.