Don't Get Burned: E-Mail Etiquette

April 13, 2007 — -- Daily, nearly half of all Americans use e-mail and 53 million use instant messaging. Along the way, there are sure to be some social missteps.

In their new book, "Send," David Shipley, the deputy editorial page editor and op-ed page editor of The New York Times, and Will Schwalbe, the editor in chief of Hyperion Books, offer a style guide to electronic communications, from e-mail to text-messaging, and a way around some of those gaffes. Their two most important lessons? Think before you send and forgive and forget when other e-mailers make a mistake. Here is an excerpt.

Bad things can happen on email. Consider Michael Brown, the director of the Federal Emergency Management Agency, who committed the following thoughts to email during the very worst days of Hurricane Katrina.

From: Michael Brown
To: FEMA Staff
August 29, 2005

Are you proud of me? Can I quit now? Can I go home?

From: Michael Brown
To: FEMA Staff
August 29, 2005

If you'll look at my lovely FEMA attire you'll really vomit. I am a fashion god.

From: Michael Brown
To: FEMA Staff
August 30, 2005

I'm not answering that question, but do have a question. Do you know of anyone who dog-sits?

Or consider us.

Once upon a time, we were trying to figure out when we needed to get a draft of this book to our editor, whom we'll call Marty. (After all, that's his name.) No problem, right? We were (reputedly) literate professionals -- Will, the editor in chief of a publishing house, and David, the editor of The New York Times Op-Ed page -- setting a basic timetable. It wasn't contentious. It wasn't emotional. It wasn't even all that complicated.

Here's how it started:

Marty sent us an email -- Subject line: "One for the book?" -- about an angry email he had written and regretted sending.

Why was Marty sending us this note?

David took the email at face value, assuming that Marty had simply wanted to pass along an anecdote for us to include. Will, however, suspected that this was Marty's gentle way of eliciting a status report.

If David was right, the correct response would be simply to thank Marty for his contribution and leave it at that. If Will was right, the proper reply would be to email Marty a detailed memo, giving him a date by which to expect the manuscript.

David answered promptly, following his instincts. (He copied Will.)

Subject: One for the book?
To: Marty
From: Shipley
Cc: Schwalbe

Dear Marty:
Thanks for the anecdote.
This will fit right in.
All best,
David

Will started to formulate a progress report, but then, before he had finished it...

Marty sent another email. In this one, he wrote how helpful it would be to have a portion of the manuscript to show his colleagues at an upcoming meeting.

OK, this time we both agreed his note was a pretty unmistakable request for us to send him part of the book. The problem: we weren't quite ready. So we needed to figure out whether getting him part of the book was "helpful" or "essential." David thought the former; Will thought the latter. Regardless of who was right, the ball was now in our court. So what did we do? We began to panic and behave like lunatics.

First, we did the worst possible thing: nothing. Days went by. Perhaps the email would just go away. Then we wrote a convoluted response -- one that reflected our eagerness to buy ourselves as much time as possible to finish the manuscript but that was also meant to reassure our editor.