WELCOME, WRITERS

If you've come to this blog, you're probably already a competent writer--or well on your way to becoming one. After all, the surest sign of a good writer is an eagerness to become an even better writer. Writing teachers are also welcome here.

This blog will offer advice on style, grammar, even such mundane matters as punctuation. Good writing is an art, yes, but it is also a craft, like quilting or carpentry or car repair. That means the ability to write is more than just an inborn talent; it is also a skill that can be learned.

Over the years, folks have paid me a lot of money for my writing and for my advice about writing. I've been a senior editor at the New York Times Magazine Group, and I've published hundreds of magazine articles myself.
I've taught writing at several universities—most recently Virginia Tech. Corporations like FedEx have hired me to teach their executives how to write better. (Note to teachers: Many of my blog posts originated as lesson plans. Feel free to use them in your own classes.)

Now retired from full-time work, I still teach writing seminars, for free, to worthy nonprofits.

Given all this, I suppose I'm qualified to offer some suggestions about the subject of writing. Much of what I say here has been said in other places--especially in fine books like Strunk and White's The Elements of Style and Donald Hall's Writing Well. You should read those books. Meanwhile, I hope you find some of the advice on this blog useful.

Monday, February 21, 2011

CLAUSE AND EFFECT: The subtleties of subordination, coordination, and reduction



Children don't subordinate much.

     This blog post deals with a subtle concept important to thoughtful and skilled writers. It is for fairly “advanced” writers, I suppose, although I’ve discovered that students as young as 14 get the concept pretty quickly.
     Consider the following passage (part of a longer story I'll share later):

This happened in June. We had an accident. We had a dog named Andy. He weighed 55 pounds. He was only 18 months old. He was a blue heeler. Blue heelers are sometimes called Australian cattle dogs. We liked Andy. He was too wild. He was too energetic. He needed lots of company. We worked all day. We weren’t home. We had to keep him tied up. We kept him in the yard. We don’t have a fenced yard. Andy was sometimes lonesome.

     This, more or less, is how young children talk or write, although perhaps they would pin the word “and” breathlessly to the beginning of each sentence.
     What’s the problem here? What makes the passage seem so immature? It’s not just that all the sentences are short and therefore lack sentence variety (although that is a problem). It’s not just that the rhythm of the writing is what most people would call “choppy” (although that, too, is a problem).
     No, there is a deeper failure here: The writer doesn’t seem able to distinguish between more important facts and less important ones. Each sentence in the passage contains one fact. Each fact, conversely, gets a whole sentence. In the passage, we are being whacked with identically emphasized facts, as if a fly swatter were smacking us at each period. “Choppy? Indeed. What’s being chopped up here is the thinking itself.
     The problem is that the writer has failed to apply the principles of subordination, coordination, and reduction.
     Here’s the basic principle: Good writers put their most important ideas in the main clauses of sentences; they put less important ideas in subordinate clauses or phrases, or even reduce them to just a word or two. To suggest that two ideas are of equal weight, the good writer puts them in equivalent grammatical forms (e.g., two independent clauses or two prepositional phrases).
      Look again at the passage about Andy the dog. Think for a moment: how should it be rewritten? I’ll wait. . . . (Teachers: This is a good time to have each of your students try his or her own rewrite.)


Blue heelers are great cattle dogs, but it's hard to subordinate them.

      Okay, I’ll admit it. That was a trick question. There is no one way the passage should be rewritten. How you rewrite it depends altogether on how much stress you want each idea to get. Here’s one possible rewrite:

In June our dog Andy caused an accident. A “blue heeler” or “Australian cattle dog,” Andy weighed 55 pounds and was only 18 months old. We liked Andy, but he was too wild, energetic, and sociable. Because we were away at work all day and our yard isn’t fenced, we kept Andy tied up in the yard. Andy was sometimes lonesome.

    In this rewritten version, the main clause of the first sentence is “Andy caused an accident.” The accident and Andy’s role as the cause gets the emphasis here. The date of the event and Andy’s name are “reduced” in the sentence to a brief prepositional phrase (“in June”) and a simple one-word appositive (“Andy”). Don’t worry if you don’t understand these technical grammatical terms. The point is, the facts of the date and name get less grammatical “weight” than what’s in the main clause. They no longer get a whole sentence each. The fact that Andy caused an accident is what this rewrite wants you to see as important.
      In the rewrite, the main clause of the second sentence is “Andy. . . weighed 55 pounds and was only 18 months old.” Here, obviously, Andy’s size and age are emphasized, while his breed is reduced to a brief appositive (“a ‘blue heeler’ or ‘Australian cattle dog’”). The third sentence has two main clauses: “We liked Andy” and “he was too wild, energetic, and sociable.” The fact that they are in “equal” independent clauses suggests that these two ideas somehow are meant to balance each other: our liking him balanced against his wild energy and need for attention. ("But" is a "coordinating" conjunction, joining equal-weight ideas.) In the rewrite, it takes the three adjectives—“wild,” “energetic” and “sociable”—to balance our liking; in the original version, they got three whole sentences—far outweighing our one sentence of liking Andy.
      In the rewrite, the fourth sentence has as its main clause “we kept Andy tied up.” Where he was tied up is now reduced to a short prepositional phrase (“in the yard”). Why he was tied up “because we were away at work all day and our yard isn’t fenced” is put into a subordinate clause, slightly less important than the fact that he was tied up. Note that “we were away” and “our yard isn’t fenced” are both equal subject-verb elements, implying that they were equally important in our decision to tie up Andy. The subordinate conjunction “because” of course serves another important purpose: It clarifies how the ideas in the different short sentences of the original are related; there’s cause-and-effect at work here. Good subordination, coordination, and reduction makes not just the relative importance of ideas clear, but also the relationships among ideas.
      The last sentence of the rewrite remains the same: “Andy was sometimes lonesome.” When you give an idea a sentence all its own like this—especially a short sentence—it acquires very strong emphasis. Obviously, in this version of the rewrite, Andy’s lonesomeness is going to be an important part of the story.
      Now try rewriting the original passage a different way, with different emphasis. For example, what if the first sentence was “It was June when the accident happened”? Notice how suddenly the time of the accident becomes emphasized. What if the next sentence were “Our 55-pound dog Andy was a blue heeler—an Australian shepherd dog.” Now his breed gets much more attention from your reader, and it will probably play a bigger role in the story.
      And so on.
      The reason children write and speak like the passage that began this post is that they lack the verbal skills to subordinate and reduce lesser ideas, coordinate equal ideas, and save their main ideas for main clauses. It’s a skill most of us take for granted and become remarkably good at as we grow older.
     I don’t wish to make you too self-conscious about your writing. Please don’t worry every sentence to death as you try to decide which ideas to subordinate, coordinate, or reduce. Generally you’ll do this pretty well by instinct. But, occasionally, you’ll read a paragraph you’ve written and think to yourself, “Something’s not right here. I’m not really making my point the way I want to.” That’s when you might try revising the way you subordinate or coordinate ideas to see what happens. Remember the concepts of subordination, coordination, and reduction; they are effective tools in the sophisticated writer’s workshop.
     For the full story of Andy and the accident, go to this link. The story is written entirely in “children’s” prose. Teachers: It can be a useful homework assignment to have your students rewrite the whole story and compare their rewrites.

The great nonfiction writer John McPhee.
(Note: The great nonfiction writer John McPhee writes long, beautifully organized and splendidly crafted books. I once saw his writing process described. I think it goes like this: he writes a single fact on a 3 X 5 notecard—just one fact per card. Then he writes another fact on another card, and so on. For a 500-page book, he might have 100,000 notecards. Then he arranges the notecards in the order he wants and begins composing sentences. I like to imagine him deciding which facts to subordinate, which to coordinate, which to reduce. It must be a fascinating process. Please read one of his books. Go here to find the list.)

Thursday, February 17, 2011

GRAMMAR MYTHS: Lies your English teacher told you

This book belongs in every writer's library.
    My life partner Gail once worked as director of marketing for a nonprofit organization in Memphis. One of the members of the organization's board of directors was a lawyer who had an Ivy League degree and prided himself on his knowledge of grammar. At one point Gail wrote a fund-raising letter for the organization and showed it to the lawyer for his approval. He said the letter was fine except for one thing: "You can't end a sentence with a preposition!" he cried, pointing to the offending words.
     Knowing my love of all things grammatical, Gail later showed me the sentence. It read something like this: "We know you care deeply about the organizations you donate your money to." I told her the sentence was perfectly all right. I explained that the "rule" that you mustn't end a sentence with a preposition was a myth. The rule arose in the 18th century, when writers of English fell in love (again) with Latin, a language which does not allow sentences to end with prepositions. Little old English teachers have been perpetuating the no-preposition-at-the-end myth ever since.
     To support my claim that it is perfectly all right to end a sentence with a preposition, I directed Gail to H.W. Fowler's Modern English Usage, the Bible for all things grammatical. (You could also consult any number of other grammar books and style guides.) Fowler was a cranky, opinionated fellow, sometimes a bit over-fussy but always well informed. His book is delightful. It contains an entire mini-essay explaining why it is, and always has been, perfectly fine to end sentences with prepositions. He notes that just about all great writers have done it; he gives examples. He calls this rule about prepositions "a superstition."
     Gail copied Fowler's mini-essay about prepositions and showed it to the lawyer. He fussed, fumed, and turned red. Finally, he said, "F**k Fowler! Do it my way!"
     So Gail did it the lawyer's way. Sometimes the organizational hierarchy trumps sensible grammar.

     There are a number of grammar myths that have been perpetuated by well-meaning but ill-informed English teachers. If writing instructors like me decide that we should teach grammar in our writing classes at all, we should be sure that we teach it correctly and that we don’t perpetuate those myths, some of which make us look like Latin-obsessed 18th-century fuddyduddies. Below are some examples of “rules” that are just plain wrong, according to the best authorities, like The Chicago Manual of Style, Fowler’s Modern English Usage, Modern American Usage (by Wilson Follett), and The American Heritage Dictionary usage panel. We owe it to ourselves to periodically delve into such texts, lest we become Mrs. Grundys. (Yes, an infinitive, poor thing, was split to make that last sentence.)


Winston Churchill had no problem ending a sentence with a preposition.

RULES THAT ARE WRONG

Every rule below in red is a myth, a lie, a superstition. You may break the rule without guilt.

Never begin a sentence with a conjunction like and or but. Wrong! All authorities accept the following: “I know my grammar inside out. But I never said I was perfect.”

Never end a sentence with a preposition. Wrong! “Who are you waiting for?”  is fine according to all authorities. (Note: Many authorities believe it would also be pretentious to use “whom” in that sentence, even in formal writing, although "whom" is technically correct.)
     Fowler gives this example: "That depends on what they are cut with." Try rewriting that sentence without ending it with a preposition, and see the knots you tie yourself into. 
     (Most of us have heard the following, perhaps apocryphal story, but it's always fun to repeat: Winston Churchill was a first-rate writer. At a party once, a woman said to him, "Sir Winston, you have written a fine book. But in several places you end sentences with a preposition. That is improper." Churchill paused a moment, and then said to the lady, "Madame, that rule is the kind of arrant nonsense up with which I will not put.")

Never use “that” to refer to people. Wrong! Nearly all authorities (e.g., Fowler, the American Heritage usage panel) declare the following sentence to be perfectly fine: “The man that loves Yeats is the man that she’ll love.” 


If Kirk can split an infinitive, so can you.
Never split infinitives or multi-part verbs. “To boldly go where no one has gone before” is all right for all of us, not just Captain Kirk. I am now going to move on (thereby putting the adverb "now" in the middle of the two-part verb "am going"—perfectly acceptable).

Never use hopefully like this: “Hopefully, it won’t rain tomorrow.” The debate on this is still raging. (Note: “is raging still” is a bit pompous. Split that verb!) The Chicago Manual says the above usage for hopefully is fine. The American Heritage usage panel still doesn’t like it, but the dictionary’s editors think it’s okay. They compare it to mercifully, as in “Mercifully, this grammar post ended before I became catatonic.”

Never begin a sentence with “however.”  Wrong! A good plurality of the American Heritage usage panel have no problem with beginning a sentence with “however.” However, some old fogies still don't like it.

Never use the phrase “the reason why.” Wrong! “The reason why I left is that he kept misusing the subjunctive voice” is okay with most authorities like The Chicago Manual of Style. (Note: “The reason . . .  is because” is still objectionable to most authorities.)

Never use like as a conjunction meaning as or as if. Actually, most authorities still prefer this rule. I put it here because even the very good, grammatically sound young writers at the magazines I’ve worked on find the sentence “He ran like he was being chased by a ghost” perfectly all right, and would find “as if” pompous there. So, although it's still a legitimate rule, we fuddyduddies need to be ready to give it up soon.


None of those ants were here when I started writing this post.
Never use a plural verb with the word none. Wrong! “None of those ants were here when I set the table” is just fine with all authorities.

Never use the word “between” with more than two nouns. Wrong! All authorities find the following sentence correct: “The exchanges between London, Athens, and Moscow are being kept confidential.”

Never use the first-person I. Obviously, this rule is impossible to follow if you’re writing anything about yourself, your experiences, or your point of view. Can you imagine a memoir without "I"? (Oh, and you is okay, too. In fact, some fine writers say you should try your best to use you whenever you can. "One," they say, sounds pretentious, as in "One ought never split an infinitive.") 
     Many high-school English teachers still insist that their students must never use "I." I'm guessing that this command comes from an honest impulse: the teachers have simply seen that students often use "I" and its variations unnecessarily. Examples: "In my opinion, Moby Dick is a great novel" and "I believe the final act of King Lear is a pageant of despair." Teachers, tell your students that if their byline is on the paper, "in my opinion" and "I believe" are simply unnecessary. However, if a student is writing about what he or she did last summer, "I" cannot be avoided.

Never use since to mean causation. Wrong! Nearly all authorities say the following sentence is fine: “Since I’m pregnant, I’d better not drink champagne tonight.”

Never put a comma before a final adverb clause. This rule actually appears in the  grammar handbook that we once used in our comp classes at Virginia Tech, but, as an absolute, it’s not correct. Note the difference in meaning between these two sentences:

            He didn’t get married because he likes good cooking.
            He didn’t get married, because he likes good cooking.

Each is correct, but in one case the guy is still single, and his girlfriend is a lousy cook!

Again, ignore all the rules in red. They're just plain wrong.

Now let us go forth and, abjuring silly rules, rid the world of comma splices, as Ahab sought to rid the world of white whales.

Moby Dick is a myth, just like the rule about never using "I" in a paper.




Wednesday, February 16, 2011

A GRAMMAR/PUNCTUATION BRUSH-UP TEST

A quiz! A quiz!
Okay, if you can stand it, here's a long post devoted primarily to classic grammar and punctuation errors.

What follows are 65 sentences or pairs of sentences. There is at least one error in each example. In my classes, I use these to review basic grammar, punctuation, and even a few style concepts with my students. See if you can find and fix all the errors. In most cases, the mistakes are obvious, but the fixes are not always so obvious. At the end, I'll show you the corrected sentences and explain the corrections briefly. I'll have to use a few technical grammar terms that I won't have room to explain in detail. Perhaps you'll start to understand them better from the examples. (Remember: Examples are the best teachers.)

If you get 80% of these correct, you're good at grammar and punctuation. If you get 90% correct, you're probably an English teacher. If you get 100% correct, want to argue with me about some of the answers, and caught four typos, you're probably a copy editor—and a person after my own heart.

CAN YOU FIND AND FIX THE ERRORS?
1. We’ve landed a probe on Mars. Although, we still haven’t made it to Venus.
2. When you gaze wistfully at the stars you’re seeing only flaming balls of gas.
3. New York is fun. When you go there however you shouldn’t take the taxis.
4. Franklin who you met last night is really a secret agent.
5. Virginia Tech is usually a football powerhouse however its usually just average in basketball.
6. Virginia Tech is superior academically however and that’s what really matters.
7. The wind was blowing like a hurricane but the pine tree just bent without breaking.
8. Harry, swimming in champagne, which his girlfriend sent him because it was his birthday.
9. Pineapple is my favorite fruit nevertheless I never buy it at the grocery store.
I wonder if LaBron can slam-dunk grammar.









10. Michael Jordan is retired. Whereas, LeBron James has just begun his career.
11. Jessica swam the length of the pool, and then layed in the sun for an hour.
12. Johan who rarely slept stayed up watching Leno and then he played video games.
13. Whatever you decide to do; don’t major in English.
14. You can skip meals be sure to take your vitamins however otherwise you’ll get sick.
15. Coach Jones locked himself in the bathroom, Virginia Tech had lost to West Virginia.
16. When the next day came Romeo sent flowers for Juliet had said she loved him.
17. Tourists either go to the Statue of Liberty, or to the Empire State Building.
18. Tourists go to the Statue of Liberty or they go to the Empire State Building.
19. Swallowing detergent, the man who had the strong stomach, which growled loudly.
20. Tripping on the sidewalk, his knee hit him in the chin.
21. By expressing yourself clearly, high grades will be yours.
22. The woman I loved hopelessly looked for her false teeth.
23. To make his mother happy, the underwear should be washed by John.
24. A responsibility is when your expected to do something.
25. You may kiss whomever attracts you.

Hamlet had a pretty good editor.









26. Molly thought about her dog being sick while reciting Hamlet’s soliloquy.
27. However she didn’t miss a word.
28. Suicide is where you kill yourself.
29. I never drink beer before noon I just don’t think it would be civilized.
30. Thinking about cheerleader’s, concentration on pass routes is difficult to maintain.
31. Josephine flirts with Alphonse everyday; but she refuses to go out with him.
32. Who you marry is of no concern to me.
33. By eating fast, twice as much food can be consumed.
34. Killed by hunters, full tribal honors were given to the elephant.
35. Ruth saw the cows eating while in her living room.
36. The drunk I saw clearly needed a shave.
37. The boss gave my colleagues and I big bonuses this year.
38. To kiss is better than hugging.
39. A double-fault is where you mess up twice.
40. Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet, is my favorite.
41. Jimmy Moore who is my best friend beats me at tennis every time.
42. My grandfather who is retired plays golf everyday.
43. In my house keeping the kitchen clean is an every day chore.
44. Herbert sold his car, moreover he sold his bicycle.
The ring goes to the grammar expert.









45. Jane is seeing Lord of the Rings and Dick sees Master and Commander.
46. Expecting the worst we turned on the radio.
47. These are your orders; buy popcorn rent a movie and come back home.
48. Joe said he was going to do three things today, mow the yard, wash the car and nap.
49. We would have been rich if I would have just played my usual lottery numbers.
50. The main cure for hangovers are aspirin and tomato juice.
51. My father Terry Weathers founded the Little League in my home town.
52. Its too late for you and I to go home.
53. The book is her’s and it’s cover is torn.
54. You’re suppose to put endings on words.
55. I laid too long out in the sun yesterday.
56. I have layed the book on your desk for you to read.
57. All the students were laying on the drill field because it was such a beautiful day.
58. Haven’t you been laying there long enough.
59. Have you ever laid outdoors under the stars at night?
60. But I lay the paper on your desk two hours ago!
61. We use to forget to put endings on words but now we always remember.
62. Three scientist and two artist were all trying to talk at once.
This stack of pancakes are too big to eat? No!
















63. That stack of blueberry buttermilk pancakes are too big for me to eat.
64. I put the memory module in the computer but it didn’t appear to be working.
65. The big fat man sat on the soft fluffy dog in the white snow.

HERE ARE THE CORRECTIONS AND EXPLANATIONS

1. We’ve landed a probe on Mars, although we still haven’t made it to Venus.
"Although" is a subordinating conjunction. The clause it begins cannot stand alone. There is no need for a comma after "although." A comma precedes the "although" clause because (technically) it is nonrestrictive.
2. When you gaze wistfully at the stars, you’re seeing only flaming balls of gas.
Follow an introductory adverb clause with a comma. In this case, the comma also helps prevent the reader from thinking "the stars you're seeing" is one phrase on first reading.
3. New York is fun. When you go there, however, you shouldn’t take the taxis.
"However" is a conjunctive adverb. It interrupts the second sentence and therefore needs commas around it. (If you put a semicolon before it, you don't yet understand how "however" works. Think of it like an adverb, not a conjunction.)
4. Franklin, whom you met last night, is really a secret agent.
"Whom" is the direct object of "you met." (Use "who" for subjects or predicate nominatives; use "whom" for objects.) The clause "whom you met last night" is nonrestrictive, so it needs commas around it.
5. Virginia Tech is usually a football powerhouse; however, it's usually just average in basketball.
You have two independent clauses (equal to complete sentences) here. You need at least a semicolon between them. A period would also work. When "however" introduces an independent clause, it is commonly followed by a comma, like other adverbs at the beginning of a sentence."It's" is a contraction, so it needs the apostrophe.
6. Virginia Tech is superior academically, however, and that’s what really matters.
You have two independent clauses joined by a coordinating conjunction ("and"). All you need between them is a comma. "However" is simply an interrupting adverb, so all it needs is commas around it.
7. The wind was blowing like a hurricane, but the pine tree just bent without breaking.
When you have two independent clauses joined by a coordinating conjunction ("but"), put a comma before the conjunction. The common coordinating conjunctions are "for," "and," "nor," "but," "or," "yet," and "so." Some people remember them by the mnemonic "FANBOYS."
8. Harry was swimming in champagne, which his girlfriend sent him because it was his birthday.
Without the word "was," this was a sentence fragment, not a complete sentence, because it lacked a complete verb. You could also say, "Harry swam in champagne. . . "
9. Pineapple is my favorite fruit; nevertheless, I never buy it at the grocery store.
You have two independent clauses, so you need at least a semicolon between them. A period would also work. Note that "nevertheless," like "however," is not a conjunction. It is an adverb.
10. Michael Jordan is retired, whereas LeBron James has just begun his career.
"Whereas" is a subordinating conjunction. The clause it introduces is a "subordinate" clause and cannot stand alone as a sentence.
11. Jessica swam the length of the pool and then lay in the sun for an hour.
The past tense of "lie" is "lay." The part of the sentence that follows "and" is not an independent clause, because it doesn't have its own subject. Therefore, you shouldn't put a comma before "and."
12. Johan, who rarely slept, stayed up watching Leno, and then he played video games.
Set off a nonrestrictive clause ("who rarely slept") with commas, and put a comma before a coordinating conjunction ("and") that introduces an independent clause.
13. Whatever you decide to do, don’t major in English.
The first clause ("whatever you decide to do") is not an independent clause, so it cannot be separated from the main clause ("don't major in English") by a semicolon. A comma suffices.
14. You can skip meals. Be sure to take your vitamins, however; otherwise, you’ll get sick.
 There are three independent clauses here. You need periods or semicolons between them. Don't let words like "however" and "otherwise" fool you. Put them in the clause they belong to, usually (not always) set off by commas.
15. Coach Jones locked himself in the bathroom; Virginia Tech had lost to West Virginia.
Either a period or a semicolon goes between two independent clauses. The semicolon suggests a cause-effect relationship between the two clauses. That's probably what is meant here.
16. When the next day came, Romeo sent flowers, for Juliet had said she loved him.
Put a comma after an introductory adverb clause, and a comma before a coordinating conjunction ("for") that introduces an independent clause.
17. Tourists go either to the Statue of Liberty or to the Empire State Building.
In an "either-or" construction, what follows the "either" must be grammatically the same as (or "parallel to") what follows the "or." In this case, it's best to put the either before the "to" phrase, just as the "or" precedes a "to" phrase. No comma is needed.
18. Tourists go to the Statue of Liberty, or they go to the Empire State Building.
Here you have two independent clauses joined by a coordinating conjunction ("or"). Put a comma before the coordinating conjunction.
19. Swallowing detergent, the man who had the strong stomach, which growled loudly, smiled at his wife.
The original sentence had a subject but no verb. Add a verb to make it a complete sentence instead of a sentence fragment.
20. Tripping on the sidewalk, he hit himself on the chin with his knee. OR When he tripped on the sidewalk, his knee hit his chin.
Be sure the participial phrase ("tripping on the sidewalk") is placed next to the word it modifies. Otherwise, you have a misrelated or misplaced modifier.  (His knee didn't trip.) The second option here gets the job done more concisely.
21. By expressing yourself clearly, you can get high grades.
This is similar to the previous example. High grades didn't express yourself clearly, so the original sentence is wrong. The phrase "by expressing yourself clearly" needs to be next to whoever is doing the expressing.
22. The woman I hopelessly loved looked for her false teeth. OR The woman I loved looked hopelessly for her false teeth.
In the original sentence, it was unclear whether the word "hopelessly" referred to how you loved the woman or to how she looked for her false teeth. Place the adverb unambiguously.
23. To make his mother happy, John should wash the underwear.
The infinitive phrase ("to make his mother happy") needs to be next to the person who will be making his mother happy. The correction also gets rid of an unnecessary passive-voice verb.
24. You have a responsibility when you're expected to do something. OR A responsibility is the obligation to do something.
A responsibility is not a point in time, so the "when" clause in the original sentence is inappropriate. Either correction is fine. "You're" is the proper contraction of "you are."
25. You may kiss whoever attracts you.
In its own clause ("whoever attracts you"), the word "whoever" is the subject; hence, the subject form "whoever" is correct. Note: the object of the verb "kiss" is the whole clause "whoever attracts you." The key to who/whom and whoever/whomever is what the word does in its own clause. Don't feel bad if you got this one wrong. New York Times writers get it wrong half the time these days.
26. While reciting Hamlet’s soliloquy, Molly thought about her dog being sick .
In the original sentence, the modifying phrase was misplaced, making it sound as if the dog was reciting. Move the modifying phrase next to the person actually doing the reciting.
27. However, she didn’t miss a word.
Simply separate "however" from the clause it belongs to by a comma.
28. Suicide is killing yourself.
"Suicide" is not a place, so the "where" clause was inappropriate in the original. (Note: Suicide is also not a "when," so you shouldn't say, "Suicide is when you kill yourself.")
29. I never drink beer before noon; I just don’t think it would be civilized.
Separate independent clauses with a period, a semicolon, or a comma-plus-coordinating conjunction. Here a semicolon best suggests that there is a cause-effect connection between the two clauses.
30. Thinking about cheerleaders, players have difficulty concentrating on pass routes.
No need for an apostrophe in the simple plural "cheerleaders." And in the original, there is no one in the sentence to be modified by the participial phrase "thinking about cheerleaders." That's known as a dangling modifier. Rewrite the sentence so that the person(s) thinking about cheerleaders follows the phrase directly. (NOTE: It would also be wrong to write "Thinking about cheerleaders, it is difficult to concentrate on pass routes." Can you see why?)
31. Josephine flirts with Alphonse every day, but she refuses to go out with him.
"Every day" is two words when used as an adverb, just like "every week" or "every month." It is one word when used as an adjective: "everyday chores." When a coordinating conjunction like "but" joins two independent clauses, only a comma needs to precede it.
32. Whom you marry is of no concern to me.
"Whom" is the direct object of the verb in its own clause: "marry." (Can you identify the subject of the main clause of the sentence? That's right, it's the whole clause "Whom you marry.")
33. By eating fast, a person (or "one" or "you") can consume twice as much food.
The original sentence contained another dangling modifier. "By eating fast" needs to be placed next to whoever is eating fast, so you have to add that person to the sentence.
34. Killed by hunters, the elephant received full tribal honors.
The original contained a misrelated or "misplaced" modifier. The "honors" weren't killed by hunters; the elephant was. Rewrite the sentence to make that clear. The correction also gets rid of a weak passive-voice verb.
35. While in her living room, Ruth saw the cows eating.
In the original, the "while" clause was misplaced, making it seem that the cows were eating in the living room. Move the clause to clarify the meaning. Even if the cows were eating in the living room, I'd rewrite the sentence; otherwise, your reader will think you just made a mistake.
36. I saw clearly that the drunk needed a shave. OR Clearly, the drunk that I saw needed a shave.
This is like sentence #22. Did you see the drunk clearly? Or did he clearly need a shave? Place the adverb unambiguously. (If you're wondering, the ambiguous placement of the adverb is technically called a "squinting" construction.)
37. The boss gave my colleagues and me big bonuses this year.
The word "I/me" is the indirect object of the sentence, so it needs to be in the objective case: "me." (Personal note: Until her death at age 93, my mother would rise from her chair and shout, "Me!" when a TV announcer made this mistake.)
38. To kiss is better than to hug. OR Kissing is better than hugging.
Use parallel structure when you can, so the two things being compared or equated have the same grammatical form.
39. A double-fault is the act of messing up twice.
A double-fault is not a place ("where") or a time ("when"). If you don't like the imprecise "messing up," say "missing two serves in a row."
40. Shakespeare’s play Hamlet is my favorite.
Shakespeare wrote more than one play, so the appositive "Hamlet" is needed to narrow down which play. That means it is a restrictive appositive. Restrictive phrases, clauses, and appositives should not be set off by commas. The names of plays are italicized, unless you work for The New Yorker, which puts them in quotation marks.
41. Jimmy Moore, who is my best friend, beats me at tennis every time.
"Who is my best friend" is a nonrestrictive clause. It simply adds extra information to the sentence. It is not needed to narrow down which Jimmy Moore. As a nonrestrictive clause, it should be set off by commas.
42. My grandfather who is retired plays golf every day.
"Every day" is two words here. Do you put commas around "who is retired"? It depends: Do you have only one grandfather? Then yes, put commas around the clause, because it is nonrestrictive. If you have more than one grandfather and the clause is used to narrow down which grandfather, then no, don't use commas, because the clause is restrictive. (Note: The comma tells the reader something about how many grandfathers you have! That's why I always say, "Punctuation is information.")
43. In my house, keeping the kitchen clean is an everyday chore.
Put a comma after introductory adverb phrases and clauses (and because, here, the reader could at first think you mean "housekeeping" if you leave the comma out). When used as an adjective, "everyday" is one word.
44. Herbert sold his car; moreover, he sold his bicycle.
"Moreover" is a conjunctive adverb, like "however," "nevertheless," "otherwise," "therefore" and a few others. Here you have two independent clauses (an independent clause has a subject and a verb and could stand as a complete sentence). When you have two independent clauses, you need a period, semicolon, or comma-plus-conjunction between them—a conjunctive adverb isn't enough. A comma normally (not always) separates a conjunctive adverb from its clause.
45. Jane is seeing Lord of the Rings, and Dick is seeing Master and Commander.
Use parallel structure to describe equal or balanced actions. Put a comma before the coordinating conjunction that introduces an independent clause. Italicize the titles of movies, unless you work for The New Yorker.
46. Expecting the worst, we turned on the radio.
Put a comma after introductory participial phrases.
47. These are your orders: buy popcorn, rent a movie, and come back home.
Use a colon to introduce a list after a completed clause. Put commas between the items in a series. The comma before the final item in a series is optional and depends on the style guide of the publication you're writing for.
48. Joe said he was going to do three things today: mow the yard, wash the car and nap.
Again, use a colon to introduce a list after a completed clause. 
49. We would have been rich if I had just played my usual lottery numbers.
In the "if" clause in sentences like this, use the simple verb "had." "If" plus "would have" is more or less redundant, since both suggest a situation that doesn't in fact exist ("a condition contrary to fact" as the grammar books like to put it).
50. The main cure for hangovers is aspirin and tomato juice.
You're talking about only one cure—aspirin-plus-tomato juice together—so the verb needs to be singular. If you mean that aspirin and tomato juice are two separate cures, you need to write "the main cures."
51. My father Terry Weathers founded the Little League in my hometown.
Assuming you have only one father, the appositive "Terry Weathers" is nonrestrictive and so needs to be set off with commas. In recent dictionaries, "hometown" is one word, although I still prefer it as two.
52. It's too late for you and me to go home.
"It's" is a contraction and requires the apostrophe. The subject ("me") of an infinitive ("to go home") in English is in the objective case, so change "I" to "me." This rule may not make sense, but that's the way it is. Most grammar is logical. This is not. English-born speakers will have no trouble with this (none would say, "It's too late for I to go home"), but it's confusing for foreign-born speakers.
53. The book is hers, and its cover is torn.
Possessives of the pronouns "its" and "hers" (and "theirs" and "ours") do not have apostrophes.  Put a comma before a coordinating conjunction that introduces an independent clause. (If the clauses are very short, as here, the comma may be omitted.)
54. You’re supposed to put endings on words.
In this sentence and others like it, "supposed" has a "d" on the end.
55. I lay too long out in the sun yesterday.
The past tense of "lie" is "lay."
56. I have laid the book on your desk for you to read.
The past participle of "lay" is "laid." Write "has laid" or "have laid" when referring to placing things.
57. All the students were lying on the drill field because it was such a beautiful day.
The participial form of "lie" is "lying." The original sentence suggests that the students were laying eggs.
58. Haven’t you been lying there long enough?
Again, the participial form of "lie" is "lying." This is a question, so end it with a question mark.
59. Have you ever lain outdoors under the stars at night?
The past participle of "lie" is "lain." Write "has lain" or "have lain" when referring to reclining. I once had a student who refused to believe the word "lain" existed. I promised him it did.
60. But I laid the paper on your desk two hours ago!
The past tense of "lay" is "laid." The only way to remember "lie/lay" verbs is to memorize their principal parts, the way I had to in the eighth grade: LIE-LAY-LYING-LAIN, LAY-LAID-LAYING-LAID. Repeat those phrases over and over until you have them memorized.
61. We used to forget to put endings on words, but now we always remember.
Like "supposed to," "used to" has a "d" at the end of "used." (It's past tense, that's why.) Put a comma before a coordinating conjunction that introduces an independent clause.
62. Three scientists and two artists were all trying to talk at once.
"Scientists" and "artists" are plural here, so remember the "s" at the end. Leaving the "s" off is a common mistake in the South, where the final "s" is not always pronounced.
63. That stack of blueberry buttermilk pancakes is too big for me to eat.
"Stack" is singular and the subject, so the verb needs to be singular.
64. I put the memory module in the computer, but the module didn’t appear to be working.
Put a comma before a coordinating conjunction ("but") that introduces an independent clause.The "it" in the original sentence was ambiguous: did it refer to the module or to the computer?
65. The fat man sat on the fluffy dog in the snow.
This is a style example to end with, just for fun. The original sentence has redundancies. If you say "fat," you probably don't need to say "big." If you say "fluffy," you don't need "soft." If you say "snow," your reader will automatically picture "white." (If the snow is not white, then it's time to declare the color.)

I almost always forget something in these sentences. If you catch a typo, see a mistake I failed to correct, or want to argue a point, please leave a comment. Thanks.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

THE FIFTH RULE OF GOOD WRITING: BUILD WITH HARD FACTS


Only facts can tell your reader which Hepburn's beauty you're describing: Katharine's or Audrey's.
  


   I have written previously on this blog about the first four of my Five Rules of Good Writing:
  1. Be as specific as you can usefully be, and provide specific examples for general statements.
  2. Use concrete language when you can, and provide concrete illustrations of abstract ideas.
  3. Use language precisely, and don’t warp the meaning of words.
  4. Most of the time, choose active-voice verbs over passive-voice verbs.
     Today I write about Rule Number Five:

     Make hard facts the backbone of your writing.

     Consider the following:

     “Genevieve was tall, beautiful, and popular. She had a devastating effect on men.”

      This is not bad writing. It’s clear and grammatical. The problem is, it doesn’t contain any persuasive information. All it contains are vague, unsubstantiated claims. At best, these are “soft” facts. For example, what, exactly, do you mean by “tall”? What’s tall to my 5-foot-0 friend Wanda may not be tall to my 6-foot-3 friend Weston. Likewise, “beautiful.” Is she Katharine Hepburn beautiful or Audrey Hepburn beautiful? Maybe Marilyn Monroe beautiful? Or Venus Williams beautiful? And what, precisely, is a “devastating effect,” anyway? Phrases like that are too vague to be of much use. They also lack authority. As I said, they’re just claims. Any good reader, like a good judge, expects you to prove your claims. Hard facts do that.
     The following paragraph gives factual substance to those claims about Genevieve:

      “Genevieve was 5-10, with violet eyes, lightly freckled skin, and shimmering auburn hair that hung to her shoulders. She had been voted homecoming queen twice and class president three times, and her classmates named her ‘Most Likely to Break Your Heart’ in the high school yearbook. When she strode through the door, every man stopped what he was doing, his mouth hanging open as he watched her out the next door. Her exit was often followed by an audible masculine sigh.”
     
     Every sentence here has the power of hard fact. A hard fact, as opposed to a “soft” claim, is objectively verifiable: Either Genevieve is 5-10 or she’s not. Either she has freckles or she doesn’t. Either she was voted homecoming queen twice or not. And so on. Certainly the sentence about every man stopping what he was doing when she walked in is an exaggeration, but, written assertively, it has the prose force of objective fact. This is a persuasive—indeed memorable—description of the lovely Genevieve.
     True, the factual version requires more words, but it has informative and persuasive words, and that’s the real definition of “concise” writing. 

Good writers harvest fresh facts.
     Please notice that to write a good “hard fact” paragraph also requires the writer to have researched and observed in order to harvest those facts. A good writer can’t be lazy in digging up the facts.
     It also needs to be said that a mere list of dry data—“Genevieve is 5-10, 130 pounds, blue eyes, light complexion, goes by the nickname ‘Baby Face’”—can sound like a police report. That’s probably not what you’re shooting for. Well-chosen, well-observed, fresh facts are one of the marks of a good writer. 

     The good description of Genevieve is an example of the kind of writing you might find in a novel, short story, or magazine profile, but the same rule of hard facts also applies to the world of corporate writing and politics. Writers in those worlds often hide behind piles of soft facts. For example:

“Our department has yet to meet the challenge of our expectations. Our bottom-line planning has proved to be something other than effective, and personnel issues have made our future progress problematic. We shall look to improve our near-term results.”

      This, of course, is an example of the weasely, imprecise writing you often find in the corporate world when someone is actually trying to hide the facts rather than reveal them. There’s nothing to hold on to in the paragraph. Even a more direct and precise statement—“Our department has planned poorly, failed to meet its goals, and will try to do better”—requires hard facts to explain itself. Here’s a more meaningful paragraph on the same subject:

“Our department came in $38,000 under budget in the quarter ending December, 2010. Although our 2009-2010 planning report projected us to increase sales at least 15 percent in the first half of 2010, in fact our sales were down 5 percent. Beyond that, we have lost 30 percent of our staff since July 2010, and a recent employee survey indicates that the average employee in our department works 48 hours per week and has just 64 square feet of personal office space. Our goal for fiscal year 2011-2012 is to increase sales from $300,000 per quarter to $350,000 per quarter, to add an extra floor to our department office space, and to increase our staff size from 10 to 12 people.”

      Not everyone will read all those facts—your CEO may just read a one-sentence summary at the end—but without the facts available, your writing lacks substance and authority.
     As for politics? Well, read the quote from George Orwell at the top of the right-hand column of this blog. Without facts, political writing is pure wind.

Without hard facts, your writing is pure wind.