Spelling schmelling?

I’ve been ranting this past month or so about how important it is for professional communicators to use proper language and grammar, and how vital it is for story-tellers especially to be wary of falling into the trap of pop culture fads in our written language. Why? Because anything that forces the reader to do a mental calculation, or mental rewording, forces that reader from your wonderful story. That includes spelling, and as you might know, school districts across the country have at least toyed with the idea of removing the instruction and testing of spelling from their curriculum. The theory, I believe, is that the spell-check function that’s available on virtually every software application has come to replace the need for knowledge.

I suppose that would be fine if our society weren’t continually inundated with examples of “alternate” spellings. They’re everywhere, from texts and tweets to television ads.  I understand the necessity for brevity in tweeting, and even texting – although I generally refuse to use abbreviations in my own text messages. It’s true! Ask my kids! I also understand an advertiser’s need to draw attention to its products, so it changes “light” to “lite,” for example. Not only will that word visually “pop” to the viewer or reader, but maybe lightening the word itself sends a subliminal message.  And let’s face it, there are no grammar or punctuation rules in advertising!

Just last night I saw a PSA commercial featuring a popular singer. It delivers an important message about breast cancer awareness, and the final shot shows the singer with the slogan: ROCK UR PINK. While I applaud the intent, I wonder, was it really necessary to use the text version of “your” in the slogan? Would the message have been diluted by using the real word? I don’t know.  Obviously it’s directed at the younger viewer, but I’m beginning to worry that soon kids aren’t going to know that “your” is a word!

Spelling is hard enough in the English language. Just look at the light/lite above example. You can’t phonetically pronounce “light,” so you must be taught that the “gh” is silent. And even with today’s  super-duper software and apps, you need to at least have an inkling of the correct spelling of a word to make the technology work.

Combine the inherent difficulties of our language with the current fad toward made-up spellings, and you have a recipe for disaster! I mean, these spell-checkers are going to have to become translators before long.  I dare you to pop “ur” into a Word doc (like I just did) and have it correctly changed to “your.”  For the record, my choices of correction are: or, urn, up, us and our. A user can add “ur” to the dictionary, of course, but why?

This is an extreme example, I know. My point is that we can’t force-feed the world with gobbledygook and rely on technology to always fix it. There are some basic rules and facts we need to  know. We at least need to know what pitfalls to watch for.

So, dear writers, I urge you to stay vigilant against this invasion, to eradicate these nouveau “words” from your everyday usage. You want to write a scene where one person is texting another? That’s fine, use “ur”; “your” wouldn’t be believable in that case, would it – unless you’re writing a scene where your mother , who refuses to use abbreviations, is texting… but you know what I mean.

Stay strong!

Words matter.

Apostrophe Abuse: It … must … stop!

This week we’re talking about the much-maligned apostrophe, a mark of punctuation that has been incorrectly used by so many in American pop culture over the past few years (maybe even the past decade) that even I have been known to fall victim to popular but incorrect usage from time to time. (And believe me, you couldn’t punish me more than I’ve punished myself for those offenses. I mean, this is how civilization declines, people—one misplaced apostrophe at a time!)

Briefly, an apostrophe is that curly thing that looks like an upside-down comma.

I know, you’ve probably seen it misused so often, you probably don’t know what I’m fussing about. It’s understandable, but we need to turn the current tide of incorrect usage. We need to learn what’s right and set a shining example for the rest of the country!

It’s not that hard, actually. There are only three uses for the apostrophe:

1. To indicate ownership or possession (something belonging to something else).
   Example: My husband’s eyes are blue. 
   (Hopefully this needs no additional clarification.)
2. To indicate that letters are missing from a word.
   Example: I don’t see the ball.
   The apostrophe takes the place of the second “o” in “do not.”
   I do not see the ball.
   (I think everyone gets this one, too.)
3. To indicate the plural…of a lower-case letter. That’s it.
   Example: Dot your i’s and cross your t’s.

So, for example, when you see people add an apostrophe to indicate plural years, it’s wrong.

• I went to school in the 1990’s. – WRONG
• I went to school in the 1990s. – CORRECT
• But…I went to school in the ‘90s. – CORRECT
  (In this case, the apostrophe takes the place of the omitted “19” in 1990.)

When you see people add an apostrophe to indicate simple plurals of proper nouns/names, it’s wrong.

• We went to dinner with the Baker’s. – WRONG
• We went to dinner with the Bakers. – CORRECT
• But…We drove to dinner in the Bakers’ car. – CORRECT.
  In this case, the car belongs to the Bakers (plural), so the apostrophe is used to indicate possession.

And now for the double-whammy of apostrophe confusion: possessive pronouns (especially the ones with s’s):  its, his, hers, yours, theirs.

The first thing to understand is that the following are not words, period:

its’
his’
her’s
your’s
their’s

If you see any of these, a discussion of usage is meaningless and unnecessary because they aren’t real words. If you see any of these in a sentence and don’t know how to make the sentence right, reword it.

Examples of correct usage:

• The dog chewed its bone.
• Sam says the dog is  his.
• Sally says the dog is hers.
• I say the dog is yours, not theirs.

Caution: “it’s” is a word. In this case, the apostrophe takes the place of the second “i” in “it is.”

It’s odd to see the dog chew its bone.

In conclusion, we know apostrophes can be confusing. We know you’re inundated on a daily basis with examples of incorrect usage. Just remember those three reasons to use an apostrophe, and you’ll be fine.

For more information about the apostrophe and its uses, you might want to check out what Purdue University’s OWL has to say on the subject.

Words (and apostrophes) matter!

We nearly came to blows…over a comma?

My son and I had it out the other day. I don’t remember which of us began yelling first, but what started as an innocent conversation took less than a minute to escalate to an all-out screaming match. If our neighbors were unlucky enough to hear us, they probably guessed we were arguing about money, or maybe my son’s use of my car, or some “normal” subject matter that causes parents and adult children to clash.

But we weren’t. The topic that caused our red faces and clenched fists? Serial commas, otherwise known as the “Oxford comma.”

Given my heretofore stated passion about grammar and its rules, you would probably assume I’m a big proponent of the Oxford comma, but let me clarify my feelings about commas. In certain types of writing (e.g., legal pleadings and briefs, contracts, things of that nature), a comma is a BIG DEAL. A missing or added comma can completely change the meaning of the sentence, so the author must be specific and purposeful in using and placing commas.  The same thing with certain forms of academic writing and journalism. But fiction?

Let’s think about this for a minute. A “wrong” comma in fiction isn’t going to cause a contractual default, or start a war (well, except maybe in my house).  At worst, incorrect comma usage or placement in a piece of fiction will cause confusion with the reader, and as I’ve said before, it’s our job, as writers, to know when that can happen, and to avoid it.

To me, the hard and fast rule for commas when writing fiction is this: Use them judiciously when needed for sentence clarity.  Aside from its more mechanical uses, I also think of a comma in fiction as a pacing tool. I once worked with a woman who knew little about rules. She punctuated by sound. She’d read a sentence out loud, and when her voice paused, she’d stick in a comma. I thought it was funny at the time, but now I think she was on to something, and I often make my comma decisions (in fiction) by the rhythm of the sentence.

Now, on to the Oxford comma. According to oxforddictionaries,com:

“The ‘Oxford comma’ is an optional comma before the word ‘and’ at the end of a list.”

I understand the rule. It gives each component of the series its own special place in the sentence. It prevents the reader from incorrectly lumping the words together. It makes perfect sense to me. I just don’t know that it’s absolutely, 100-percent needed unless you’re referring to a  more complex listing, one using  multi-word phrasing, modifiers, appositives, or other construction that could cause confusion. Here’s a simplified example:

Sally’s favorite colors are fire-engine red, oyster-shell pink, and brown.

Without the comma before “and brown,” the reader could be confused into thinking one of Sally’s favorite colors is “oyster-shell pink and brown.” Maybe. In this case, I would keep the comma there just to prevent confusion.

But if I removed the unit modifiers, would I need the Oxford comma?

Sally’s favorite colors are red, pink and brown.

I think most people would understand that “pink and brown” is not a color in and of itself. So to me, it’s perfectly clear without the comma. By the same token, adding the comma doesn’t take away clarity or add ambiguity, so it’s fine with the comma, too.

If I were editing this example, I would let the author choose. His or her preference might have to do with pacing after all.  It might be the way the author “hears” the sentence while reading. For that reason, I’m happy to let the author be happy with his/her choice.

Some people (who shall remain nameless, but who know who they are) aren’t so flexible. Some people would insist on that third comma, always, just because of some typesetting rule that has survived who-knows-how-many decades!

Some people might be surprised, in fact, to learn that Oxford itself has relaxed its own famous rule about the serial comma, at least a smidgen. It seems now the main concern, aside from avoiding confusion and ambiguity, is to be consistent. (I kid you not! I read it on the internet…somewhere. Google it yourself if you don’t believe me!)

In any event, my son and I have since mended ways. We’ve agreed to agree to disagree on this one. If nothing else, we’ll make for nicer (quieter) neighbors!

Happy writing, all.

Words matter.