How Would You Play With a Goat?

Would you, could you, should you… these italicized words indicate auxiliary verbs (will, can, shall). But don’t worry about what they’re called. How do you use the darned things?

Often when I’m editing a manuscript (especially a memoir) I find myself deeply mired in a morass of woulds. If I had a dollar for every “would”, I could retire to the Alps where I once spent a summer. 

In those days I would play with the goats all day, who would enjoy the frolic, and would reward me with wet licks of my face. I would often yodel as I played.

See what I mean? too many! And too many woulds spoil a story.
My edit: 

In those days I played with the goats all day, who enjoyed the frolic and rewarded me with wet licks on my face. I often yodeled as I played.

See how much more active that reads? Look at those verbs; they fairly reek flavor.

Now you try it. Look at the last memoir (or any account of an event) that you wrote and count the woulds. Too many? Rewrite!

Want to know how a would should be used? Proper use of would uses the word to help another verb that is or has been often repeated.  

A goat would chew on a stick all day, if given the chance. 
As a child, I would pull on my hair when I was frightened. 
Viewers of the movie would laugh in the wrong place.

Treat the would with kid gloves. (Sorry, that was baaaed; I couldn’t resist!)

We be; you be; all us folks be;

How come “to be” doesn’t act like a verb? It is probably the most used (and overused) verb in the English language — in its myriad forms: is, are, am, were, was, have been. With a verb like “to run”, we can cover the gamut: I run, you run, we run, etc. But not the verb “to be”. Grrrr!

Please avoid trying to push this round verb into a square sentence. It’s okay to write:

“I want to be a star.”
or “To be a star takes work.”
or ”You need talent to be a star.”

It is NOT okay to use this poor little rich verb in the following manner:

“When you’re a star, be it now or in two weeks…”
or “You are special, if you be understanding that.”
or “ When you be a star, you’ll know fame and fortune.”

Any writer who wants to become a star must understand the fine point usage notes concerning the verb “to be”. Got it?

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!