Whatcha gonna do, 1 space or 2?

How many spaces after a period, one or two?

I’ve been asked to referee disputes on the subject, been urged to publicize the “right” answer, and been chastised for recommending the “wrong” answer. Lawyers tend to feel strongly about spaces, so I hesitate to weigh in. Let me start by acknowledging there are arguments on both sides.

If you put two spaces after periods, you have several arguments on your side. There’s the long tradition: that’s the way we’ve always done it (at least since the invention of the typewriter). You also have your own training to back you up: that’s the way we were taught (and still are, as I learned when my seventh grader took typing last year, or what is now called “keyboarding”). You might rely on widespread practice: that’s what everyone does (or at least the lawyers you know). Or you might say one space looks bad: it makes the document seem crowded.

If you put one space after periods, you have arguments on your side, too. One space is what the pros do: professionally published texts, like books, magazines, and newspapers mostly use one space after periods. For example, Austin Lawyer uses one space. You could point out that two-space practice is a vestige of the typewriter, with its mono-spaced fonts, and no one uses typewriters or mono-spaced fonts like Courier anymore (at least they shouldn’t). Or you might argue that one space is becoming the modern, standard practice (which it is, although it isn’t catching on quickly in law practice).

With arguments on both sides, I’ve found it difficult to persuade anyone on this issue. I tell my students that while in law school, choose a preference and be consistent with it. Then, in practice, conform to the expectations of your employer.

My own preference? I’m a one-space guy, and here’s why.

First, two-space practice really is a vestige of the typewriter, and I want my word-processed documents to look neat, modern, and professional. I don’t find a one-space document crowded; rather, I find a two-space document “gappy.” What are all those little cavities of white space?

Second, one-space practice really is the trend for professional writing. Search the topic on the Web if you doubt it. It’s just that lawyers are behind. The truth is that in professional writing, we are in the middle of a long, slow transition from two spaces to one space, and it really isn’t worth fighting it.

Third, those who know—the experts—prefer one space:

“One space is the custom of professional typographers and consensus view of typography authorities.” Matthew Butterick, Typography for Lawyers 42 (2010).

“Like most publishers, Chicago advises leaving a single character space, not two spaces, between sentences . . . .” Chicago Manual of Style 60 (15th ed. 2010).

“[T]he single space between sentences is enough to visually separate them, and two spaces creates a disturbing gap. . . . Yes, this is a difficult habit to break, but it must be done.” Robin Williams, The PC Is Not a Typewriter 13–14 (1992).

Fourth, clean-up is easy. As you know, there are plenty of places in abbreviations and citations where you want one space after a period, not two. Making sure you have one space there but two spaces after sentences is a headache, isn’t it? I use one space after sentences, so here’s all I need to do: as part of a final edit, run a search for two spaces and replace them with one. Done.

It’s still too early say two spaces is wrong for law practice since it’s so common in legal writing. But the battle for two spaces is being lost—one space at a time.

Beck Center created

As a result of a generous gift, the University of Texas School of Law’s legal-writing program is now the David J. Beck Center for Legal Research, Writing, and Appellate Advocacy. (David Beck is a well known lawyer and alumnus.) I will become the Director of the Beck Center.

The Center’s primary focus is the required, first-year course in legal research and writing—now entering the third year of an expanded curriculum made possible in part by Mr. Beck’s gift. The Center also includes several other courses: a new course on legal writing for foreign LLM students, upper-division courses (Transactional Drafting, Writing for Litigation, and Advanced Legal Writing), two judicial-clerkship-preparation courses, and the Law School Writing Center. In addition, the Beck Center coordinates interscholastic moot court, and my colleague Gretchen Sween will become Director of Interscholastic Moot Court.

Who deserves credit for the changes?

During the last 10 years, we’ve had some positive changes in the legal-writing program here at Texas. We’ve had some problems, too, but let’s not go into that.

I may have given the impression that I deserve credit for the changes. I don’t. I was just here when they happened. Let me be specific by listing the major changes and then the party responsible:

Pass-fail to graded—former director

Increase in faculty from 4 to 6—Wayne

Increase in faculty from 6 to 8—faculty committee, former associate dean, donor

Increase in faculty from 8 to 9—dean

Change in role of TQs (teaching assistants)—former dean

Increase in credits from 2 to 4—faculty committee, former associate dean

Salary increase—former dean

Three-year contracts—former dean

Summer research stipends—dean, clinical director

What is a TQ?

With the recent changes to our legal-writing program, I’ve had a few queries about the role of teaching assistants in our program, mostly from folks who know we used to place heavy reliance on TAs.

Teaching assistants in the legal writing program here at Texas have an unusual name: Teaching Quizmasters or “TQs” as we call them. The name derives from a role assigned to select upper-class students to support faculty by giving quizzes to first-year students (I believe this began in the early 1900s). When Roy Mersky first started a research-and-writing program here (I believe this was in the 1970s), he revived the name.

For many years, TQs WERE the legal-writing  program; there were no writing lecturers. Even once a handful of faculty came on board, the TQs still did most of the instruction (in small groups) and most of the commenting on papers. TQs also served as de facto mentors and social directors for their assigned students. That was the situation when I began teaching at Texas in 1992: I supervised 16 TQs and had 240 students.

There’s an interesting, unusual, and sometimes painful story behind all this, and I should probably write it down someday . . . but for now, I’ll simply and happily note that yes, the TQs still exist. This last year I had 3 TQs and 46 students. But the TQ role has changed.

They no longer do classroom instruction (faculty do all that) or serve as social directors (there’s a separate group of students for that now). Today, TQs are traditional, academic teaching assistants who check research exercises, meet with students to talk about writing, and support the full-time faculty. For example, about a month ago I had my TQs sit with me in panels to hear oral arguments. A very good experience.

The TQ name is well known among UT Law alumni and is rightfully accorded a measure of respect among our graduates. In fact, 4 of our current writing lecturers were TQs. Two of my TQs this year were on law review, and both are seeking (and are likely to get) federal clerkships.