Bloody Well Write

Ah, grammar! Were it not for grammar — and good grammar, at that — the world would surely be a heaping, chaotic mess. For without grammar, how would we humans ever be able to order a cup o’ joe properly (especially the double-double light dolce iced latte variety) or be able to sue each other with such flourish? How would we know if we were being asked about which meal we would like to order, and if we would like fries with it? And how, for Pete’s sake, would we be able to communicate our every want, need and desire to those who may be able to provide it, were it not for good grammar etiquette?

Good grammar is the very foundation of our society, is it not? It helped our forefathers put down in black and white just how they wanted the United States of America to operate. And lawmakers and politicians ever since — with a few potatoe-flinging exceptions — have been trying to uphold the same kind of respect for the language.

Go ahead — you know you want to (photo: http://www.flickr.com/photos/adactio/3368018014)

Granted, the very nature of language is a morphing art form. The intelligentsia of yesteryear have given way to the whiz kids of the now. What was once imperturbable and phlegmatic is now cool; what used to be favored (or favoured) and marvelous is now hot, rad or boss.

And that change is, indeed, rad — even though the process of change sometimes raises several eyebrows.

So go ahead and celebrate grammar:

• Bake an ampersand cake or (for the baking-challenged) ellipsis cookies.
• Introduce the kiddos to “Schoolhouse Rock” and don’t feel self-conscious as you belt out the songs.
• Send grammar tidbits around the office via interoffice e-mail.
• Take a pad of sticky notes to dinner tonight, as it’s highly probable that your menu will have at least one grammar issue, and leave behind a sticky note that calls out the offending mistake — much more respectable than writing all over the menu with a red Sharpie®.
• Send a National Grammar Day E-card.
• Profess your undying love of the AP Stylebook guidelines.

Visit any of the myriad of sites online that celebrate language today and every day. Here are the sites of three grammar gurus (my faves) to whet your whistle:

Quick and Dirty Tips™ — Mignon Fogarty (Grammar Girl™ and the host of this year’s NGD)

The Society for the Promotion of Good Grammar (SPOGG) — Martha Brockenbrough (founder of NGD).

The Slot — Bill Walsh (chief of the night desk — Washington Post)

And on that note (isn’t it fantastic that good grammar includes beginning sentences with conjunctions?), I bid you a happy NGD to you and yours.

Happy trails!

SAK

A hyphen is that short, little bugger that joins two or more words to form an adjective and, at the very same time, makes middle schoolers’ heads spin. Really, it is nothing more than a clarifier, making the very complicated English language a little less complicated for the reader. At least, that’s its intent. The writer, though, may have something else to say about it. Ahem.

Since the hyphen is trying to simplify our lives, let’s give it a chance by trying to understand where it’s coming from. (Yes, yes, “from where it is coming” is the oh-so-proper way to write but, really, who talks that way anymore? Ending in a preposition is completely acceptable for all but the highest of highbrows. Onward and upward.)

The hyphen is used to form various compound words. If in doubt about adding a hyphen to two words, look for ambiguity that may lurk: Bob will speak to small businessmen sounds as if the businessmen are either vertically challenged or small-boned; the sentence probably should read like this: Bob will speak to small-business men. If adding a hyphen would clear up a misunderstanding, the hyphen probably belongs between the two words.

The problem with this second sentence is that women are presumably not going to be in or allowed at this meeting, which raises other ethical and moral questions. If you are 100 percent sure that no women will be in the audience, leave it as is; but if women will be present, you can change it to Bob will speak to small-business men and women or Bob will speak to small-business owners. Problem solved.

Many combinations that are hyphenated before a noun are not hyphenated when they occur after a noun: A full-time employee gets an assigned parking space. He works full time.

You can also use a hyphen to avoid duplicated vowels and triple consonants: anti-intellectual, shell-like. These are tricky, though, because the AP Stylebook does not always follow Merriam-Webster’s recommended spelling.

For example, AP uses a hyphen in pre-emptive, but Merriam-Webster does not: preemptive. What’s a writer to do? I’d say to use your best judgment. My best judgment says to follow AP, except that AP is sometimes the last style guide to make a change, which leads me to ultimately recommend following Merriam-Webster’s spelling. As an added incentive, the AP Stylebook states,  “… follow Webster’s New World, hyphenating if not listed there.”  I use Merriam-Webster Online; preemptive is there, so that’s what I use.

Hyphens also help to break up a word that must be carried over to the next line due to space restrictions, such as in the short columns of a magazine article. But if you don’t have to use them, don’t, for the simple fact that they tend to clunk up the readability of the piece.

How often should you use hyphens? As often as necessary to make the copy clear and interesting. All those hyphenated words acting as adjectives can spice up your writing, that’s true. But just as too many spices can gunk up the flavor of homemade soup, so can too many hyphenated words make your copy tank. You want your writing to be interesting and engaging, not a just a display of how cleverly you can write.

That being said, I’m a fan of hyphens. Not an over-the-top, need-to-be-medicated kind of fan, but a fan nonetheless. I like to choose clarification over ambiguity. I dig creative, unexpected writing. And the inner designer in me likes the visual aspect of the joined words — sort of breaks up the flow of letters on the page (like my other good friend, the em dash — love the em dash, maybe a little too much).

It’s time to address one of my grammar pet peeves: hyphen usage with -ly words. There are very few instances when a word ending in -ly actually needs a hyphen. Examples:

• A word ending in -ly (such as family) in which the ending -ly is not a suffix added on to make the root word an adverb or adjective: A family-friendly restaurant is correct. (Family is a root word that happens to end in -ly, so it is OK to have a hyphen follow it.)
•  The case of multiple hyphenated words, no matter if there is an -ly word included or not: Sid penned a not-so-creatively-written poem.

Other uses for the hyphen include numerals, such as to separate figures:
• Odds: The odds were 5-3.
• Ratios: The ratio was 10-to-1. It was a 10-1 ratio.
• Scores: KU won 88-64.
• Vote tabulations: The House voted 230-205.

Another rule to consider is suspensive hyphenation. It connects two words or numbers to a noun without losing the reader: He expected to have a 10- to 15-year career in pro wrestling.

Finally, there is e-mail. Yes, with a hyphen. That one, unless the stars realign and the earth swallows up logic and spits it back out as the New Word, probably ain’t gonna change. You see, e-mail stands for electronic mail. That e is a placeholder for a full word. As Bill Walsh of The Washington Post so eloquently put it in his book “Lapsing Into a Comma” (Page 16, if you’re curious):

“No initial-based term in the history of the English language has ever evolved to form a solid word — a few are split and the rest are hyphenated. Look at A-frame, B-movie, …H-bomb, I-beam, … X-ray, Y-chromosome, Z particle and scores of other such compounds.”

Take that, email.

Happy trails!

SAK

Addition to above entry

This post is a terrific example of why I try to choose words carefully. In discussing e-mail versus email, I wrote:

Finally, there is e-mail. Yes, with a hyphen. That one, unless the stars realign and the earth swallows up logic and spits it back out as the New Word, probably ain’t gonna change.

Note the word probably. Good thing, that word. Because in March 2011, the AP Stylebook decided to change the spelling to email, without the hyphen. Really shocking thing, that change, but it just goes to show:

• Nothing but death is certain (yeah, I’m not putting taxes in that equation).
• Public pressure counts for something.

Happy trails!

SAK

A name is a person’s identity. Screw it up in copy and you’ll earn the ire of said person and any of said person’s true friends. Let’s cover the basics so that you can save yourself some angst and make the person (or animal or company) you’re writing about a happy camper:

• Use the person’s first and last name (and middle if he or she requests it) on first reference. Use the last name only on subsequent mentions.

• When referencing two people with the same last name (say you’re interviewing a married couple — Bob and Bobbie Bobbins), use first and last names on every mention to avoid confusion.

• When referring to young people (i.e., under 18), use their first name on subsequent mentions as long as the story or copy is not ultraserious (i.e., if they didn’t just commit a serious crime).

NOTE: The AP Stylebook has a rule about using first names for those under 15 and last names for those 18 and older; if the child is 16 or 17, AP says to use the surname unless it’s a light-hearted story. Why do 16- and 17-year-olds get this separation? I don’t get it. Maybe because if they commit a serious crime, they are more likely to be tried as an adult since they are so close to being 18. I don’t write for a newspaper, so I think that the “under or over 18” distinction is plenty good enough for other types of writing that don’t deal with this sort of issue. Anyway, I’d be a little leery of using a little kid’s real name (especially the first name) very often — especially if there is a picture attached. There are nutzos out there and anything we can do to make the realization of their intentions more difficult is a good thing.

• Do not add a space between two initials, such as J.R. Ewing (not J. R. Ewing) and B.B. King. Why? Because typesetting can unwittingly cause one initial to stay on the tail end of a line and the other initial to land at the beginning of the next line — and that would look like poop.

• Team names and band names (take this one with a grain of salt and a raspberry margarita if you can) — according to AP, team and band names take plural verbs, even if it sounds weird. It should be The Wichita Wings are playing tonight, The Wichita Wind are not playing tonight, The Cult are an amazing band (with a fantastic lead singer) and The White Stripes rock like mad.

The Cult — Electric (released April 1987)

NOTE: This rule is a hard one to follow, in my opinion (and I think Bill Walsh would agree with me, since he wrote the following on Page 170 of his book “Lapsing Into a Comma”:

Follow the usual rules of subject-verb agreement when confronted with one of those newfangled singular collective team names that seem to be especially popular in Florida. (Let’s see, we have the Orlando Magic, the Miami Heat, the Tampa Bay Lightning, the non-Florida Colorado Avalanche and Utah Jazz, and too many teams to mention in the newer leagues, such as soccer and women’s basketball.)

Wrong: The New Jersey Sludge are 7-0.
Right: The New Jersey Sludge is 7-0.

Yes, it sounds odd, but it sounds even more odd to trash logic in favor of consistency and make all teams plural. … Band names work the same way: The Beatles were great. The Who was great.

What’s my recommendation? If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a hundred times: I follow the AP Stylebook on just about everything, but when a question arises, I defer to Bill Walsh. I suggest that you do the same.

• An animal with a given name is referred to as a he or a she. If you don’t know the name of the dog that bit the mailman, that dog is referred to as an it.

• Mom and Dad are uppercase when you’re writing about them as if those were their names: Mom let me bake cookies. Mom, let me bake cookies! The dog ate Dad’s cookie. Lowercase them when they are not name substitutes: I gave my mom a frog. My dad thought it was funny.

• Articles and prepositions with three or fewer letters are typically lowercase in proper names of movies, books, companies and such. This means that, despite what everyone says about lowercasing the t in that or the w in with, words with four or more letters are uppercase: “Gone With the Wind,” “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a part of the English language if it didn’t have a few exceptions:

• When the short word begins or ends the name or title: “On the Road,” “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” “That’s What Friends Are For.”

• When confusion would reign: Dexy’s Midnight Runners had a hit with “Come On Eileen.” Lowercase that O and there are some serious questions raised (not that they weren’t raised by every teenager within earshot anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing). No comma in that title just ups the ante for the uppercase O. “Fiddler on the Roof” doesn’t need an uppercase O (or T, for that matter) because it is what it is; there’s no confusion about the meaning.

• Names of people and companies, when they are being written by those very people or companies, can be capitalized whichever way they choose. If a man named Ebenezer wants to capitalize every other letter of his name, EbEnEzEr  — or eBeNeZeR — can go crazy with the shift key. When you’re the one writing about a person or company, however, stick with conventional capitalization. E.E. Cummings is good. e.e. cummings is weird. “Thirtysomething” (besides being an awesome show that taught me what I had to look forward to in my 30s) is fine to start a sentence; don’t lowercase the initial T just because the show’s logo had it that way. If you tried to follow the style of every logo out there, you’d be an amazing typist, for sure. Just stick with what you learned in grade school: If it starts a sentence, it gets a capital letter. Start a sentence with Ebay and you get a gold star for the day. Start a sentence with eBay and you’re catering.

You used grammar correctly!

• Triple-check the spelling of names. As a gal who spent 35 years as an Abderhalden and had to spell both first and last names each and every time to each and every George and Georgette out there, take it from me: Seeing your name in print correctly is about as big a thrill as any. A spelling gaffe just makes the rest of your work seem sloppy.

That’s it for a happy Monday.

Happy trails!

SAK

Here’s the deal: All kinds of writers, from journalists to comic-strip creators, from advertising writers to unauthorized biographers, use ranges to imply vast coverage of whatever they are writing about. And the vast majority use ranges incorrectly. I just did.

Take, for example, the second half of this blog’s headline. What is the true range? From goo-goo goggles to veggie hammocks — what does that mean? How are they possibly related? They both might be made out of plastic. OK, fine. They both could be purple. Or made in 1969. But where does that leave the range?

Look at this entry’s first paragraph. What is the true range between each grouping of writers? There’s a disconnect occurring. No true range, no obvious connection, no-good writing.

If you look the word “range” up in the dictionary (Webster’s New World College Dictionary is AP’s dictionary of choice, but you Web-savvy folks can check out Merriam-Webster’s Online Dictionary), you’ll get several definitions. The two that fit this topic are as follows:

1) A series of things in a line (implying some sort of relation)
2) A sequence, series or scale between limits (again, implying a relation)

Look “range” up on OneLook.com (a fantastic Web site that pulls definitions from nearly a bazillion dictionary sites), and you’ll see the quick definitions on the right side of your screen, including this one: a variety of different things or activities (”He answered a range of questions”).

So what’s the message here? It’s this: Writers tend to use this false range as a prop. Writing that a five-and-dime carries everything (everything!) from Andalusian apples to Zippo lighters is just not gonna work. Do they sell time-shares in Connecticut? Sand from Perth? Yellow polka-dot bikinis? Eyebrow dye? Not a single noun can be excluded. “Everything” means everything. That’s one hell of a range. Hell, that’s one hell of a store.

Writing that a plane can travel from Anchorage to Zimbabwe is fine; that’s a true range. There are geographic points to be plotted. There’s an alphabetical range, as well, although it’s a little more of a stretch.

If you really want to include a range in your writing, try using some version of “a variety”: The five-and-dime sold a variety of products, including blow-up Nietzsche dolls and Roseanne Roseannadanna wigs. The cookbook included recipes as varied as green-bean pudding and hambone tartare.

For more rantings on false ranges, check out theslot.com, the Web site of one of my all-time favorite editing ranters, Bill Walsh. He’s the copy chief (national desk) at The Washington Post, has written two books (“opinionated guides for editors and writers,” per his Web site) and is as entertaining a grammar enthusiast as I have come across. He also has a blog. Ba-da-bing — there’s my Bill Walsh plug. He rocks.

I hope that you had fun with this read and especially that you’ll come back for another go at the word game. Keep me company. Send your feedback. Pass on ideas for future entries. Then take a load off and have some ice cream. There’s always time for ice cream.

Happy holidays and — as always — happy trails!

SAK