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

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