Kate L. Turabian's A Manual for Writers of Term Papers, Theses, and Dissertations

There are four general uses for notes: to cite the individual sources of the information from the text, to make cross-references, to make personal comments, and to make acknowledgments. Footnotes should be placed in numerical order at the bottom of the page below a separator; endnotes are placed at the end of the paper.

The first, full reference of a book should include (if available), in this order:

    Author(s)'s name(s)
    Title and subtitle
    Name of editor, translator, etc.
    Number or name of edition (if not the first)
    Name of series with volume number
    Facts of publication (place, publishing agency, date)
    Page number(s) of the citation

Each element of a note reference is separated by commas (facts of publication are separated by parentheses). For example*:

1. Edward Chiera, They Wrote on Clay, ed. George G. Cameron (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1938), 42.
2. Blaise Pascal, Pensees and the Provincial Letters, Modern Library ed. (New York: Random House, 1941), 418.

A reference to an introduction (or anything of the like) by an author other than the author of the book begins with the author of the specific part.

1. Arthur Danhurst, introduction to Calculating the Incalculable, by Samuel Ifferson (Minneapolis: Naughtington Press, 1994), 2-4.

When a reference is followed by another reference to the same work with no intervening references, “Ibid.” may take the place of the as much of the second (or subsequent) reference that is identical. However, Ibid may never take the place of the author’s name or the title.

The first, full reference to an article in a periodical must include (in this order):

    Title of article
    Title of periodical
    Volume or issue number (or both)
    Publication date
    Page number(s)

1. Cartright C. Bellworthy, “Reform of Congressional Remuneration,” Political Review 7, no. 6 (1990): 89, 93-94.

Magazines are identified by date rather than by volume numbers.

1. Anne B. Fisher, “Ford is Back on the Track,” Fortune, 23 December 1985, 18.

The name and date of the newspaper are sufficient for the reference unless the newspaper is made up of several sections that are individually paginated. In this case, section number/letter, page number, and edition letter are given.

1. Tyler Marshall, “200th Birthday of Grimms Celebrated,” Los Angeles Times, 15 March 1985, sec 1A, p. 3.

The style for plays follows the style for books, except that act, scene, and line numbers are given when necessary.

1. Jean Anouilh, Antigone, ed. Raymond Laubreaux, Classiques de la civilisation francaise, ed. Yves Brunswick and Paul Givestier (Paris: Editions de la Table Ronde, 1946; Didier, 1964), lines 1678-79, p. 87.

Short Poems:
For short poems, the title is placed in quotation marks; if the poem is taken from a collection, the title of the collection is italicized or underlined. Note that it may be necessary to obtain permission when quoting the full poem.

Unpublished Material:
The best way to demonstrate the citations of unpublished material, which is a very inclusive category, is to provide examples.

1. Thomas Jefferson, Blank pass for a ship, 1801-1809, DS by Jefferson as president, Special Collections, Joseph Regenstein Library, University of Chicago, Chicago.
2. Garnett Duncan, Louisville, Kentucky, to Joel Tanner Hart, Florence Italy, ALS, 12 June 1961, Durrett Collection, Special Collections, Joseph Regenstein Library, University of Chicago, Chicago.
3. Abraham Lincoln, “Gettysburgh Adress” [final draft], AD [photostat], 19 November 1863, Special Collections, Joseph Regenstein Library, University of Chicago, Chicago; original in Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
4. Sandra Landis Gogel, “A Grammar of Old Hebrew” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1985), 46-50.
5. Thomas Foxcroft, “A Seasonal Memento for New Year’s Day” (sermon preached at the Old Church lecture in Boston on 1 January 1746-47), Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University, New Haven.

Electronic Documents:
The same basic information needed for any publication is needed for electronic documents, either CD-ROMs (and the like) or on-line sources: author and title, name and description of the source cited, type of source, city of publication (if any), publisher or vendor (or both), date of publication or access, and identifying pathway needed for access to the material.

1. Richard D. Lanham, The Electronic Word: Democracy, Technology, and the Arts [diskette] (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993).
2. William J. Mitchell, City of Bits: Space, Place, and the Infobahn [book on-line] (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1995, accessed 29 September 1995); available from http://www.mitpress.mit.edu:80/City_of_Bits/Pulling_Glass/index.html; Internet.

Musical Scores and Compositions:

1. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Sonatas and Fantasies for the Piano, prepared from the autographs and earliest printed sources by Nathan Broder, rev. ed. (Bryn Mawr, Pa.: Theodore Presser, 1960), 42.
2. Ludwig van Beethoven, Symphony no. 5 in c minor.

Works of Art:
If the work of art is presented in a book, the note is given in the style of the book reference. If not, give the artist’s name, title, medium and support, date, and the name of the institution with location.

1. Pablo Picasso, Crouching Woman, oil drawing on plywood, 1946, Musee Picasso, Antibes.
2. Lorado, Taft, Fountain of Time, steel-reinforced hollow-cast concrete, 1922, Washington Park, west end of Midway Plaisance, Chicago.

Cross References:
When referring to material in another part of the paper, simply refer to the page or note number (or both), in parentheses in the text or in notes. The words “above” and “below” are also used (in law references, “supra” and “infra” are often used instead); the word “see” is often used in the sense of “compare.”

*All examples are taken directly from the text to ensure accuracy.


by timothy hoover

“I’m taking my toys and going home.”

Paul looked at these words on the small square of paper and laughed softly to himself. He put his initials beneath them: PR. He set the note down and walked from the desk across the cool wood floor to the open window. The street lights rolled a soft yellow glow across the ceiling, covering the walls with sharp angled shadows. Leaning out he stared for a moment at the six inch concrete ledge right below the window. It was gray and spotted with pigeon shit. He could smell kerosene in the breeze. He let his gaze move to the street

It was four am. The street was quiet and empty except for a taxi that slid by in its own yellow light. The street was six floors below and the taxi made no noise that he could hear. It was like watching bad TV with the sound turned off. The low rumbling of a far off train was faint in his ear. Paul turned and sat on the sill of the open window and lit a cigarette from the pack laying beside him. He turned and watched his wife sleeping in the bed a few feet away. She slept close to the far edge and seemed to cling to the bed. Like in a panic. She had all the blankets wrapped tight around her. Paul thought his side of the bed looked very empty. Like snow before the footprints.

That’s typical, he thought. There she is taking what is mine to keep herself warm while here I am getting ready to lean back. That’s how I’ll do it, he thought. I’ll lean back. Like a diver plunging off a boat, heavy air tanks pulling back, flippers overhead. I’ll just plunge backwards into whatever comes next. He thought about the note again and smiled. That would really piss her off. That would be so stupidly flippant in the last moment. She would want a long and dramatic note about a life of pain and how none of it was her fault and despite her support he could not go on. She wanted a note that outlined careful and clear reasons. Reasons that she was not a part of. He would not give her that. He would not let her excuse herself from this event. She would read the note and feel anger and guilt. He hoped it would never leave her.

He remembered for a moment a conversation they had the night before. She said to him that if he were to beg for a job with the enthusiasm with which he was begging for sex perhaps he would have not been unemployed so long. And perhaps, if he had not been without a job for so long, they could have afforded to go on the ski trip with her friends. He didn’t like her friends, or skiing for that matter, but that had hurt. He came here for her. First she wanted school. Now she had a job and was moving up. After seven months he was sure that there were few Ad people in the city of Chicago who had not seen a copy of his resume. He’d left a good job to come here. He knew how much she wanted school. His business was tougher now than five years ago. Despite all his efforts he had gotten only a few call backs in the past months. No offers. She kept this in his mind. He continued smoking, lighting one off the other as he got down to the filter.

Lung cancer was not a concern for someone in his position. He liked his position. There on the window sill in his boxer shorts. He would watch the early morning sky as he fell. A cigarette in his mouth all the way down. And she would find the note. But what if the note wasn’t just right? He didn’t really have any toys, symbolic or otherwise. What if her pure, stupid confusion derailed the anger and guilt he was looking for? He got up and went to the desk. Taking the note he had written he folded it neatly into four corners and dropped it into the waste basket beside the desk. He looked around the small apartment and ran both hands through his graying hair, cigarette clenched in his teeth. Then he smiled. He picked up the pen and wrote

“Here, by the grace of God, go I.”

She would hate that. Really hate it. He signed his initials and went back to the window to sit down.

He sat for a long time not thinking anything in particular and listening to the growing sounds in the street below. It was almost six o’clock and delivery trucks and early morning commuters were moving in the street below. Soon his wife’s alarm would go off and a routine would play out. Like every morning for the past few months he would get up after she went into the bathroom and throw the note away. Then, before she was finished in the shower, he would be wrapped in blankets still warm from her body. He would sleep, or pretend to, until she left. His days were the same. He would leave the apartment around noon and spend the afternoon following up on job prospects and reading the paper on the bus. He would usually ride around for an extra hour or two. He wanted to be sure she got home first. When he walked in, his ass sore and eyes tired, from reading on the bus, she would inquire about his day. No matter what had been accomplished that day, an interview, a new lead, it would not be enough. She would not say it outright. She would ask questions.

”Did you call back so and so?”


And then she would nod. There was so much in that nod. Judge and jury with no hope of retrial. There would be little conversation that evening and then, after she had gone to sleep, he would begin his ritual of writing notes.

The alarm went off. He lit another cigarette and watched her stir awake. She pushed herself up and sat on the edge of the bed without looking at him. Her hair was stuck to her face, running parallel to the lines left by the sheets. She stood up and pulling on her robe and stepped in front of him.

“I have an early meeting today. I’d appreciate it if you could drive me to work.”

Her tone was cool and without appreciation.

“And could you pick up around here today? I live here too you know.”

She turned and walked into the bathroom. She let the door snap shut behind her and he noticed that it was a few seconds before he could see the bright florescent light shining under the door. He sat without reaction and finished his cigarette. When he was done he went to the desk and threw the note away. Then he slowly put on the suit that hung on the back of the chair at the desk. He selected a tie from his closet. One that he had not worn in a while. One that she found particularly offensive. He sat back at the window sill and smoked while she walked around getting ready for work. They did not talk. When she was ready she picked up her purse and looked at him.

As they left the apartment Paul paused. His wife grew impatient.

“What is it.” She asked.

“I forgot to close the window,” he answered, “it’ll just take a second.”

She paced darkly back and forth in the hall way outside the door. She hated to wait for him. As she grew more and more angry, a crowd gathered on the street below.

I am completely obsessed with notetaking.

Even now, as I write my first node in years (coming out of a hiatus), I have everNote open side-by-side with the writeup window. It contains every single note I've taken in the last five years, through three software switches, nine lost paper notebooks, three computers, and a hard drive crash. My notes have always been critically important to me, so I always had a backup.

Every stray thought I have that I might want to access later gets a note. Every important email at work gets dropped in the notefile. When I park my bicycle somewhere out of the ordinary, I take a picture, then send it to my notes. I'm so reliant on my notes, I have an unlimited wireless data plan for my phone so I can search all of my notes at any time.

I am addicted to my notes. I get nervous and uncertain when I do not have some way to access them. I bought a $200 pen that records everything I write just so I can easily upload it to my notes later. (It's much clearer than my scanner.) It honestly feels like any other addiction: I feel shaky and sick when I don't have that safety net of being able to write something down, a constant panic that I'm going to forget something. I become very aware of information drifting out of my head, desperate to not forget anything. Of course, my concerns are a bit silly, as I often go straight to the note I need rather than having to run a search to find eveyrthing; I've obviously remembered the full information and content of the note, I just need the comfort that it's as I wrote it.

I am an information junkie. Data is my drug. I want to have access to everything I ever knew, whenever I might need it. But that brings its own problems. I overload very easily, getting confused and panicked in my futile effort to remember everything. So my notes are my crutch: my spare brain so I can dump those ideas out before they dissolve on their own.

I spent years of my life nervous and panicking that I'd forget something. It was a constant anxiety, a fear because I'd never know what I'd need to know, so I tried to remember everything. So I got a PDA, and started taking notes there, but it had no way to search through them; I'd frantically rummage through hundreds of Pocket Word documents to find the right one. I switched to paper notebooks, which were about equivalent. Then, in college, I finally started taking a computer with me to class, and gave Microsoft OneNote a try, and it was the start of fixing everything- and then I switched to everNote 2, preferring its infinite tape. (It's a much better organization layout for me.) But I found myself wanting the free layout options in OneNote, so I switched back. And then Evernote 3 came out, stabilized, and the temptation of having my notes everywhere was too great, and all my notes are now there.

My notes are my drug, but they are a cure. The anxiety is quenched.

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