With the discoveries in the past several weeks that two recently published memoirs were fakes, there’s been an increased focus in the news on fact-checking, something that magazines do routinely but that appears to be largely absent in book publishing. (See “Gang Memoir, Turning Page, Is Pure Fiction” in the New York Times and “Best-Selling Holocaust Tale Untrue, Author Admits” in the Washington Post.)

Since the 1950s National Geographic has had a rigorous research, or fact-checking, process, with a staff of researchers dedicated to the magazine’s publishing the most accurate, truthful information possible. This is not because we don’t trust our writers and photographers. We do trust them; they are among the world’s best reporters and journalists. But everyone can make a mistake, hear something incorrectly, be misled by a published source (perhaps a book that hasn’t been fact-checked?), or have an editor inadvertently introduce an error.

So our researchers diligently verify all that we publish. Not just the basic facts of names, dates, statistics, and superlatives (should we really say that Antarctica, not the Sahara, is the largest desert on Earth?), but also details of complex scientific research, subtle nuances of language (is it truly “cannibalism” if a nudibranch eats a member of a species other than its own?), identification of places, people, and objects in our photographs. (The next time I write about research, I’ll take a more humorous slant and tell you some of the amazing and amusing statements researchers have tackled.)

Though we sometimes verify a quote by reading it back to the author’s source, more often than not we will send it in writing to the source, often including the surrounding text in order to show the context. We do not change a quote for editorial reasons—in fact, we publish quotes despite sources’ objections if we have sound backup—but we do correct factual errors and delete problematic material.

Because of the depth and thoroughness of our research, there’s usually a learning curve—or should I call it an acceptance curve—for first-time writers at the magazine as they get used to our research. Most come around on subsequent assignments to a full appreciation of the support they get from our staff. After all, our writers and photographers are experienced journalists who care as much about getting the facts right as do the researchers.

Yes, there’s sometimes tension—perhaps when a researcher looks at a statement too literally or an author lets his or her writing style veer toward hyperbole. Yet this is the kind of creative tension that results in a top-quality story. The interaction between researchers and writers today is the most positive I’ve known in many years.

My entire career has been in research at National Geographic, which I’m happy to say continues to value stringent research, even in these days of declining circulation and staff cuts. It’s hard for me to imagine how those memoir book editors could have been hoodwinked. But what concerns me even more is what the public thinks. Does the ordinary person care at all about truth and honesty and accuracy? Are readers disturbed by fabricated memoirs? Or is there such a pervasive cynicism about the press, accompanied by an acceptance of embellishment for the sake of entertainment—or maybe education—that none of this matters? I sincerely hope not, but I wonder.

What do you readers think?

A recent article about semicolons, published in the New York Times, caught my attention, so I wrote a column for our internal news site about the demise of the semicolon and about how we are using fewer in the pages of National Geographic today than we once did. Wow! Did I ever get a strong response from colleagues.

A writer who usually praises my writings on grammar and word usage said, “Fie on anyone who would propose the demise of the semicolon; heresy of the highest order. Writers ought to have all the tools of punctuation at their disposal.” 

An editor wrote: “Frankly, I like semicolons; they let you know there is more to come; they link the logical sequence of set-up, then resolution.”

Notice how cleverly these two correspondents punctuated their thoughts.

Another editor told me she recently asked an author to decrease the number of semicolons in a story because they were slowing down the pace and were too cumbersome. (Ah, at least one person on my side.)

A third editor opined that she is a devotee of the semicolon and finds it elegant, something that she’d have a hard time giving up.

A member of our Detroit advertising office offered this: “My favorite example of incorrect semicolon usage is found within this sentence, however; I have no doubt you'll identify it easily.”

And a marketer in our book division observes: “I was just reading your article on semicolons, and I realized that I use semicolons most often when I'm joining two independent clauses separated by a conjunctive adverb.  Would that qualify as archaic these days?  And if so, would you recommend using a period instead?”

(After reading this last comment, I wondered how many conjunctive adverbs most of us could list. In answer to his question, yes, a period would work, and in some cases a comma would too.)

I’m sorry to have caused angst in some of my colleagues. My advice to everyone is that if you like semicolons and are using them correctly, then, please, continue to use them. As an editor, I would be reluctant to actually remove a semicolon as long as it suits the style of the writing.

On the other hand, having been given permission to do this by William Strunk and E. B. White (page 12 of the illustrated Elements of Style), I may allow someone with a breezy, chatty style to substitute commas for semicolons: He came, he saw, he conquered.

And for those of you scratching your heads over conjunctive adverbs, here’s a list taken from the third edition of Words Into Type: so, therefore, hence, however, nevertheless, moreover, accordingly, besides, also, thus, then, still, otherwise.