Want People to Listen to You?

I edit book manuscripts. When I discover an epidemic, like any good citizen, I must report it and warn against the dangers the disease can aggravate. Such diseases include (but are not limited to) over-use of a word, misuse of a word (and, then, but, well), abuse of commas, and a few hundred others. Today I wish to address the threat of the deadly… er… uh… um… , known as PFS (Pause Filler Syndrome). I put on my doctor’s white coat, place the stethoscope around my neck, and ask you to say “Ahhh” before placing your mask firmly over your fingers, leaving your eyes exposed so you can read on:

THE DISEASE:
As speakers, when we talk off the cuff, spontaneously, without notes, we often insert the occasional uh, um or er to let our brains catch up to our tongues. If you ever attended a meeting of Toastmasters, you may have seen members fined for using these place-holders. The best speakers use a pause to take a breath while keeping their tongues quiet.

As writers, we let characters do the speaking (it’s called dialog). If you’re giving your characters unique sounding voices, you may let one of them hesitate and use the viral er, um or uh. But please, do so sparingly. Nothing holds up a reader more than too many ers, ums and uhs in dialog. Once I found an average of 75 of these germs per page in a writer’s ms. (yes, I counted). In addition, the writer kept adding the words: She paused. and He paused. By the time I removed most of the diseased words, the manuscript was considerably shortened — and activated.
Writers groan; readers cheer!

DIAGNOSIS:
There is a difference between spoken and written words. Symptoms of oncoming PFS in writing include the deadly symptom of double verbing: making an attempt to write, rather than attempting to write. Or, taking the time to call home, rather than calling home. Or, I think; in my opinion; I feel, I sorta kinda gotta do this… and other place-holders. If you are writing an opinion piece, you don’t need any of those words (especially sorta, kinda, gotta). Your words — all of your words are your opinion, or you wouldn’t be writing them.

Read over the last few pages you just wrote. How many place-holders can you find? Do you need them? Does your character need them? Or are you just stalling while your brain catches up?

THE CURE: 
While waiting for the next idea or word, take a deep breath, speak slowly, pace your words to stay with of your brain — and reap the wonders of fine writing!

BENEFITS:
You will be more easily believed. Your writing will become more active (and publishable). You may rewarded with improved book sales, lower editing costs, or a raise from your boss. Most importantly, you will sound more authoritative.

Temp-er, Temp-er, Temp-er!

Okay, I realize I’ve offered spelling advice that says, “Look to the root word when seeking better spelling.” But I have also suggested that you can ignore some advice that was absorbed as “rule”. And temp is one of them. This scruffy little root word has a variety of meanings. My dictionary (American Heritage, 4th Edition) lists more than two dozen words beginning with “t-e-m-p…” and a variety of meanings running from temper to temporary.

The etymology of this root is fascinating, but I won’t bore you with it. Know that t-e-m-p has been mished and mashed and put through a wringer over the centuries in order to produce quite a variety of uses in U.S.-English.

Most of the temp words refer to a root meaning of “time” or “mix” or “mingle”. Go figure! Here are a few of the differences:

A plain old temp can be that outsider who comes into your office “temporarily” to work on the books in your department.

A temper is “the tantrum” you throw when you weren’t asked to help.

That was when you were asked to temper your temper, “to moderate” it.

Temperament or temperamentally is “the way you handle” that temper.

Temperance goes further and asks you to knock it off completely, to “restrain” yourself.

When the office temperature rises, sometimes tempers also “get hot”.

Not wanting a tempest of “violent behavior of tornado proportions” to upset the office, your HR psychologist would likely suggest you temper your temper and avoid a tempest in a teapot with a well-tempered clavichord, with “tempered” music!

Remaining on an artsy level, tempera is a “mingling” of colors.

The temple in the Temple of Doom, on the other hand, draws meaning from sacred ground that was “divided” or “separated” (ironically meaning un-mixed) from ordinary ground. And from that, surprisingly, comes the meaning for the temple on either side of your eyes, originating from a Greek word meaning “vital spot”, as indicated by the Greek Vale of Tempe located between two important Greek mountains. (Classical Latin refers to that forehead area as the “temporal bone” or “temporal muscle”, protecting the precious vital eyes.)

No, I won’t miss some other t-e-m-p’s: as in Shirley Temple, Tempe AZ, or tempeh, an Indonesian dish made from fermented soybeans. Wonder where these t-e-m-p’s came from…

Ain’t language fun!

They Like the New GIYP!

Love my books; love me! Apparently something is working because my new series, Grammar In Your Pocket, is doing well. Seems people like the instant access to their grammar and punctuation problems. If you haven’t downloaded any copy yet, go to www.kindle.com and search either by topic (nouns, adjectives, commas, apostrophes, etc.) or by Series: Grammar In Your Pocket.

HINT: The most popular so far is Book #24 Grammar Glitches. Here you’ll find all the common grammar problems of the U.S.-English language — everything from affect/effect to who/whom!

Guest Grammar Geek (her words)

For All You Mullygrubbers!

mullygrub (verb)
mullygrubs (moody noun)
mullygrubber (person to avoid)

The word mullygrubs came up on NPR recently and befuddled many people — both reporters and listeners. This is one of the best one-word descriptions alive (barely); it is attached to those moody, lackadaisical, gloomy, annoying people who just collywobble around, bringing negative energy to everyone.

If that isn’t enough to keep you away (or to keep you from becoming one), know that collywobble is a verb meaning to “belly-ache” (derived from “collic” and “stomach ache”). Got it?

Where the term mullygrub comes from is equally interesting (to us word geeks). An Aussie reports that a mullygrub is a cricket noun, referring to a bowled ball that “just rolls along the ground, keeping the batsman from scoring more than one run”, and therefore turning the defeated bowler into a collywobbler who resorts to any method to win with no consideration of long-term results. (Sounds as if it should be part of U.S. political grammar.)

Wait! There’s more! The word mully is a variant of muley, which refers to cattle with no horns. And how do hornless cattle behave without a means of defense? They get the mullygrubs, which turns them into very blah animals — thus mullygrubbers — blue, sad, down in the dumps.

Don’t be a mullygrubber! Forget the collywobbles and get out there and throw a party, ride a roller coaster, ask an attractive person out to dine, run naked through the stre... no, better skip that last one!

This is a post by a guest artist who apparently writes just like me.
She is Joanne Nakaya. Get a load of her writing blog! What fun!

OK, is it okay to O.K. an okay sentence including o.k.?

Next Sunday, March 23, 2014, has been named “OK Day”, celebrating the 175th anniversary of the appearance of this innovative word/sound/phrase. On March 23, 1839 okay appeared for the first time in a U.S. newspaper — The Boston Morning Post. It was a gimmick, folks — part of an abbreviation craze in this new country of ours. But, oh how it stuck!

How many ways can you write it? OK?
How often do you use the term okay?
Do you realize that this innocuous little term — “okay” — not only has uses in several parts of speech, but it also has a history? Who knew?

Answer to Question #1: You can write this term in all caps, a combination of cap and lower case, as a four-letter word or a two-word abbreviation (with or without periods). All are OKAY, OK, O.K., okay, ok, o.k.

Answer to Question #2: You have probably used the term more than 175 times today if you are working or socializing among other people, and possibly 25 to 30 times if you’re working alone at your computer and phone.

Answer to Question #3: Oh yes! You can use “okay” as a noun (You have my okay), a verb (Please okay this agreement today), an adjective (You’re an okay kind of person), and adverb (Is your computer running okay?), and an expletive/interjection (Okay!).

As for history, don’t believe those who try to tell you it originated with President Martin VanBuren, who is reputed to have referred to his connections with Old Kinderhook! Didn’t happen! Or with President Wilson, who reputedly repeated a term he had heard. Okay may  have come from the Greek ola kala, meaning “all good” or the Choctaw word, “okeh”, a sound-alike. After okay became used publicly in 1839, it is believed to have been immortalized in an unnamed slang dictionary in 1864. Probably not true.

And no! There's no way it stands for Oklahoma, as fine a state as OK may be.

Celebrate Our Day!

Today, Tuesday, March 4, is National Grammar Day. How do you celebrate? Take a grammar to lunch? Buy your grammar a dozen roses? Or just watch your mouth. Not easy in this day of purple prose — f-words and s-words and xyz-words. Take a hint from our classy forebears whose words remain on our lips for decades — nay centuries — long after the speakers are gone. They chose words that cut, struck chords, made points, all without reverting to the profanity of the day (or was it the profanity of the day?).

Notice where profane words originate? In the bathroom (considered childish obsession with the digestive system), in the bedroom (sexual activity has long bothered Americans), in humor (making fun of others), and in ways to diminish the character of another.

Where our grandparents got by using such expletives as gosh darn, drat, egad, yikes, gee, and golly, their grandchildren easily display potty mouths — most likely for shock value to adults, but more for the easy of finding a pet cuss word and using it as often as possible. The cure? Find a pet cuss word that only you define as “profanity”.

U.S.-English is rich with wonderful words that would send an enemy or opponent scurrying off to find a dictionary. Consider: scurrilous, blasphemous, file, coprophagous, cloacal, ribald, execrable, ominous, minacious, maledictory, damnatory, desiccative.

On this holiest of holy days, watch your language. 

1) Keep your dictionary tucked inside your iPod or your pocket.
2) Find a mobile copy of a thesaurus.
3) Delight in coming up with dissident, dissentient, dissipated, disassociated word that will blow away the need for bathroom or bedroom attempts at humor.

When you stare your opponent in the eye, smile, and describe that person in extraordinary words, you'll feel so much better.

Be a proud grammar user.

 

Why Grammar?

As a grammarian and word person, I am constantly asked why grammar is important. “Why do I have to understand what words go together and which ones don’t?” “What's the difference if I use double negatives?” “Why do we even have apostrophes — much less, how do we use them?”

Having order to the way we communicate by mouth and writing is as important as having some order to the way we communicate via the Internet and email. Sure there are different systems, or styles. But computer-ese makes communication between computers — and therefore between people — possible. If your computer cannot talk to mine, we cannot get together on anything.

Grammar is like the coding in computers, in that knowing how it works makes it work better. Read a good book about language: The Anarchist’s Guide to Grammar, by Val Dumond, or The Language Instinct, by Steven Pinker. I guarantee you’ll come away with more respect for the guidelines offered through the order of language.

No, it’s not British English or Australian English or Canadian English — not in the good old US of A! Which is why we in the U.S. have the most beautiful and flexible language in the world. Why? Because it is composed of all the other languages — with all their styles and systems in one room, together.

Bless us all, everyone, for our language and knowing how to order it!

Why Don’t You Believe Me?

Incredible! Unbelievable! I can’t believe it’s not true. Notice how these words are used.

1. He had an incredible body.
2. She was unbelievably gorgeous.
3. I can’t believe how cold it is.
4. Did that success you mentioned actually happen?
5. I am really happy for you.

Number 1 says “This guy had a body that no one would believe.” (Only a Schwartnegger could have that.)
Number 2 shows the woman as more gorgeous than anyone could comprehend. (Nobody can be that gorgeous.)
Number 3 shows your level of mentality, that you can’t believe 10-degrees below is cold. (Brrr! dammit!)
Number 4 questions your veracity. (“Are you lying?”)
Number 5 is a sarcastic way to say, “I may not look happy for you, but I am.” (Honestly, would I kid you?)

How often do you stretch belief with these words? Credible means “able to be believed”. Believable means “convincing or realistic”. Actually refers to “the truth or facts of a situation”. Really is another way to say that something is real, as opposed to a figment of the imagination. I find that many people use “really” as a way to say “but” (not so!) in order to cover up their disbelief that the speaker thinks something is so (I really like that color on you — but…). Ah, you remember that “but” generally negates anything that precedes it.

When you don’t want them to know...

Writers:
You keep being told to write clearly, actively, directly, so that readers know exactly what you’re saying. Not always. There are times when you don’t want readers to know what’s going on — when blame or responsibility is involved, when you don’t want to name names.

“Errors have been made and others will be blamed.” This is passive writing.

Passive writing says “something happened, but we’re not saying what”; someone did something, but we’re not saying who”. Notice that the general order of subject-verb-object has been reversed. Rather than “Bob erred with the estimate; his information was faulty”, the message may appear as: “The estimate was in error because of faulty information”. No foul; no blame!

Who would write this way? Those who wish to add complexity or obfuscation to their words (think: legal documents, insurance policies, financial information, apologies). Passive writing has its place; but most often, something is being hidden.

How many sentences in this posting are passively written?

Verb Degrees

Choose a verb, any verb, preferably  a benign one and its extreme opposite (stroll --> race; tap --> pound; sip --> gulp). Insert other verbs that will take the benign verb, by small increments, to the extreme at the other end.

Here's my challenge: Move from “whisper” --> “screech”.

 My attempt: whisper, murmur, hum, speak, converse, enunciate, emphasize, shout, yell, scream, shriek, cry, screech…

Can you insert some other verbs in between?

So so-so!

Speakers use place savers — words or sounds that give the brain time to catch up to the tongue. The primary place savers include sounds, such as “uh, er, um”. Of late, they’re being replaced by words, which range from “so” and “in fact” to “the fact is,  it's my belief”,  and “for some reason or other”. You have to wonder if brains have slowed down or tongues have speeded up.

During a recent lecture, a speaker with what must be the slowest brain in the world nearly put me into a coma. In the first place, she spoke so slowly, my brain was in danger of falling asleep. When I noticed she was using the space saver “so”,  I started counting the times she used it. Within a period of five minutes, she used “so” more than 25 times (that computes to five times a minute). It may have been more, but my brain was very sluggish by that time.

Don’t turn off your audience — whether they are listening or reading your words — by over-using space savers. Everyone has favorites. Here are some to watch for: and, but, then, now, I think, I feel, I believe (we know you think, feel or believe what you’re saying; you don’t have to tell us), and the ever-popular so.

Word Madness

With March Madness (basketball) and Spring Training (baseball) underway, here’s a warning to sports fans with connections to Australia. DO NOT tell an Aussie that you’re “rooting” for your team. That word translates into Australian-English as the U.S.-English version of the f-word. Not nice! Now do you understand why grammar anarchy makes sense? All English speakers do not speak E-N-G-L-I-S-H?

“Love Me Like a Man...” Really?

There’s a song that Diana Krall sings that drives me up the wall when I hear it. Sung by a woman, she is asking, “Love me like a man...”. Now I have to wonder: does she want someone to love her as a man would love her, or is she asking someone to love her as if she were a man? Gender issues are difficult enough to unsnare without them bubbling over into song!

Grammar is Like Breakfast

Whaddaya prefer? Yogurt and granola? Eggs and toast? Pancakes? Steak? or all of the above? No two people agree on the “proper” breakfast (or any other meal). So why should we expect agreement on the “proper” way we write and talk? Or even on some spelling choices? Think about it!