Some days I use a serial comma, and some days I don't. Sometimes I spell a number out, and other times I use a numeral. My standards are tremendously flexible. What I do depends on which style guide I'm following for a particular project.

Style guides (also known as style manuals or stylebooks) are collected standards for writing and formatting. They have information about punctuation, spelling, usage, citations, and document design. Authors and editors use style guides to make sure everything written and released is consistent.

The style guide you choose may depend upon your client or field of study. Below are some examples of the most common style guides, along with hyperlinks to find out more. Several of these publications offer online subscriptions.

Academic writers of papers and articles have several options, depending on their discipline. They may use the MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers or the MLA Style Manual and Guide to Scholarly Publishing. Social and behavioral scientists may follow the Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association (commonly known as the APA Style Manual). Medical writers often consult the AMA Manual of Style.

If you're writing news articles, releases, newsletters, or online content, you may use the Associated Press Stylebook and Briefing on Media Law (often called AP Style).

Government agencies often, but not always, follow the U.S. Government Printing Office Style Manual (commonly referred to as GPO).

Many business writers and book authors choose The Chicago Manual of Style. The classic Elements of Style, by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White, is a popular choice for many writers. It's also just fun to read.

If you're not constrained by a client or field of study and can choose a style guide for yourself, then browse through the shelves at a bookstore or sample some online. (Many universities offer online guidance that are distillations of popular style guides.) Ask yourself some questions: Is the guide applicable to the kind of writing you do? Is it organized in a reader-friendly way? Can you find the information you need?

Style guides give you a place to start by answering common questions about punctuation, spelling, usage, citations, and document design. They help you to make sure that every piece of writing that goes out the door is consistent and meets standards of quality.

I have a confession to make. I skim most descriptions of settings in both fiction and nonfiction. I know -- I'm a terrible reader. I want to zoom straight to the action or dialogue.

As an editor, however, I can't just skip the scene-setting; I have to read each and every word. So I've pondered what makes descriptions of place compelling and effective. What makes them too good to pass up? Writers of both fiction and nonfiction tend to make three common errors in setting the scene:

• Rambling, lengthy descriptions
• Commonplace descriptions
• No sense of place

The first problem can be solved by asking yourself a few questions: Why are you describing this place? Is it important in what happens next? Does the setting illuminate something about the protagonist's or subject's character? Does the setting contribute to an understanding of theme? Your description of place should do one of those. Knowing your purpose will help determine how many words to spend on it and what details to include.

I call the second problem the "Fodor Dependency," which refers to a description that sounds as if it came from a guidebook. It's a postcard that matches everyone's visual expectations and contains no surprises. Again, asking yourself questions can help avoid this problem. What's special about the place? What makes it unique? For example, the high desert air in Arizona carries a scent after the monsoon rains that I've never encountered anywhere else. And that brings me to my next point: don't rely on your eyes alone. Use all your senses. How does the place sound? What does it smell like or taste like? What does the air feel like on your skin? You may not include all this information, but the exercise allows you to discover striking sensory details to create a compelling description.

The third problem, no sense of place, is at the opposite end of the spectrum. The description is either so skimpy or mundane that the story feels like it could take place anywhere. While this problem is perhaps most noticeable in fiction, it applies to nonfiction as well. Even reports and newsletter articles can almost always benefit from a strong sense of place. Defining the purpose of the description and finding what's unique about a setting can solve this problem too.

Using these three strategies -- exploring why you're writing the description, defining what's unique, and locating the sensory details -- will all help you to create a compelling sense of place.

Living room, seaplane, T-shirt.

What do these words have in common? They are all compound words, specially designed to make me crazy while editing.

Compound words are two or more words joined together to create one word with a new meaning. Often they are noun or noun-adjective combinations. Compound words fall into one of three categories:

• Open, which are two words with a space between them, such as "ice cream," "post office," and "living room";
• Closed, with no space between the words, such as "childlike," "backyard," and "houseboat"; and
• Hyphenated, where two words are joined by a hyphen, such as "get-together," "walk-through," and "once-over."  

Like this winter's weather, compound words are unpredictable and changeable. No simple, easy-to-remember rules govern them. They can morph over time or even between dictionaries from open to hyphenated to closed.

For example, "teacup" is a closed compound word according to Webster's Dictionary, but the closely related "tea bag" is open. And "teacup" becomes "tea-cup" in the Oxford English Dictionary and at Dictionary.com (based on the Random House Dictionary).

How can writers and editors handle these maddening words? One option is to just memorize lists of the most common compound words. If that seems daunting, then try my strategy. On your first pass through a document, circle all the compound words. Find an authoritative dictionary (I like Webster's) and look each one up. I keep a running list of spelling decisions to make sure I'm consistent. If the compound word isn't in Webster's, then I play it safe and spell it as two words.

Whether you're trying to spell "stopwatch" or "stop sign," using this strategy should help you manage the unpredictable, changeable nature of compound words.