English and more English for you: December 2013

Saturday, December 28, 2013

Never ask a grandma if she knows you.

Never ask a grandma if she knows you.

WARNING: You might need a Hospital visit if you continue reading…

Lawyers should never ask a Mississippi Grandma a question if they aren’t prepared for the answer.

In a trial, a Southern small-town prosecuting attorney called his first witness, a grandmotherly, elderly woman to the witness stand.

He approached her and asked, “Mrs. Jones, do you know me?”

She responded, “Why, yes, I do know you, Mr. Williams. I’ve known you since you were a boy, and frankly, you’ve been a big disappointment to me. You lie, you cheat on your wife, and you manipulate people and talk about them behind their backs. You think you’re a big shot when you haven’t the brains to realize you’ll never amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you.”

The lawyer was stunned.

Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, “Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?”

She again replied, “Yes, I certainly do. I’ve known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He’s lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can’t build a normal relationship with anyone, and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. One of them was your wife. Yes, I know him.”

The defense attorney nearly died.

The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench. In a very quiet and low voice he said, “If either of you idiots asks her if she knows me, I’ll send you both to the electric chair.”

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

10 things to do in Perú

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Kill Those Modifiers!

COLUMN BY JON GINGERICH JANUARY 30, 2013

One hallmark of bad writing can be found in descriptive passages that rely heavily on modifiers. Adverbs and adjectives are necessary in language — I’ve already used both, in the first two sentences of this column — but used too often, they contribute to uninspired sentences and an overall sense of descriptive flatness. They don’t convey the specificity or immediacy that’s needed in storytelling. As such, you should kill them whenever you can.

Sentences that force your readers to reach for a dictionary are usually a bad idea.

A lot of beginning writers have a penchant to use modifiers with abandon. Needless to say, sentences that force your readers to reach for a dictionary are usually a bad idea, but I don’t think that's the intended goal in most of these cases. I can only speak from personal experience and say that, because I knew modifiers’ role in language was to qualify an action or object, I presumed that meant they specified them, or gave added emphasis. Unfortunately, the opposite is often true. Modifiers do very little in a sentence; usually, they can be removed without changing a sentence’s meaning at all. If your descriptions rely too much on these unnecessary add-ons — if you’ve simply given us a general statement and tacked on a modifier at the end, in other words — the resulting passage will probably be unclear and verbose. Compare the two examples below. As you can see, adverbs can tempt writers to resist hunting for the right verb that would have otherwise driven a sentence home.

Bad
He ran down the stairs quickly.

Better
The stairs flew beneath him.

Another reason modifiers won't cover your descriptive bases is the fact that they’re unimaginative. Adjectives are easy; it doesn’t take much effort to open a thesaurus and find a provocative word. It’s much more difficult to find the right noun or verb that perfectly pinpoints what you’re trying to say. Instead of relying on two-cent adjectives, you should look for verbs that have vigor, and nouns that invoke unique images.

Bad
Her erubescent face, the distended and misshapen torso, gave her the appearance of a stop sign.

Better
Her rashed face, the atlas outlines of her torso, gave her the appearance of a stop sign.

Nailing a descriptive passage takes a lot of work, but the more concrete and stimulating your words are, the more likely the reader will grab onto them. Get specific, get close, and draw an image as accurately as possible of the thing or event you’re trying to describe. Choose your verbs carefully. The best verbs imply movement; they suggest that your characters are in motion.

Bad
She smiled excitedly.

Better
She flashed a row of teeth.

Also, make sure your descriptions arouse the senses. When you appeal to our sensory faculties you’re telling us not only how something looks, but you’re asking us to imagine how something feels. Appeal to as many senses as you can. It makes a difference.

Bad
It was 100-degrees in the city.

Moderately bad
It was incredibly hot in the city.

Better
The pavement released its heat in waves, fanning an asphalt wind over the city that pulled at the throat and sat in the lungs like a fume.

As you can see from the above example, I used figurative language to usher in some extra descriptive strength. Simile and metaphor are great. They turn statements into comparisons, establishing relationships in otherwise dissimilar things, which causes the reader to see a small part of the world in a different way. If youreally want to be imaginative and economical in your descriptions, try using a metaphor as a verb.

Bad
He beat on the floor with his fists like a drum.

Better
He drummed on the floor.

When you’re looking at a draft of your work, always ask yourself: is it possible for me to ditch this adjective in exchange for a noun that offers the reader a better image? Am I using this adverb simply to modify a vague and general verb? Are the verbs I’ve chosen the most accurate I can find in depicting the action on the page? Do my nouns accurately describe my subjects? Has my writing stimulated the senses? And does it highlight causal relationships that provoke a reader’s imagination?

Is it possible for me to ditch this adjective in exchange for a noun that offers the reader a better image? Am I using this adverb simply to modify a vague and general verb?

This is where I add a disclaimer. I love adjectives. Absolutely love them. I have this notebook I carry around so I can write down ridiculous words I’ve never heard. I subscribe to dictionary.com’s “Word of the Day” email list. I’ll admit it: adjectives are fun. And, if you could see my first drafts — which you won’t — you’d see they’re hilariously verbose, and more often than not, crammed with modifiers. For me, it’s second nature to use them when I’m writing in a hurry. It’s certainly easier than waiting around for the right noun or verb. In other words, the adjective works like a place-marker when I haven’t yet found the right way to express the action or object on the page. I’ll take care of them later, in a rewrite, when I have the words (hopefully) to do it. Given my secret love for adjectives, I still know it’s going to be far more clumsy to write, for example, “he answered the customer’s questions with alacrity,” than it is to think about the action I want to describe, and produce something like “he answered the customer’s questions with prompt fluency.” My first priority is always to describe with precision and clarity.

This doesn’t mean you should delete every modifier in your work. There are some great books out there that are stuffed with them (Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451, or Will Self's Great Apes in particular, are both loaded with adverbs). If your story is really good we might overlook them entirely. Just avoid modifiers when you can. Allow them only when it’s absolutely essential to the strength and clarity of your sentences. Use them, but don’t push your luck.

20 Common Grammar Mistakes That (Almost) Everyone Makes

COLUMN BY JON GINGERICH JANUARY 31, 2012

http://litreactor.com/columns/20-common-grammar-mistakes-that-almost-everyone-gets-wrong

I’ve edited a monthly magazine for more than six years, and it’s a job that’s come with more frustration than reward. If there’s one thing I am grateful for — and it sure isn’t the pay — it’s that my work has allowed endless time to hone my craft to Louis Skolnick levels of grammar geekery.

As someone who slings red ink for a living, let me tell you: grammar is an ultra-micro component in the larger picture; it lies somewhere in the final steps of the editing trail; and as such it’s an overrated quasi-irrelevancy in the creative process, perpetuated into importance primarily by bitter nerds who accumulate tweed jackets and crippling inferiority complexes. But experience has also taught me that readers, for better or worse, will approach your work with a jaundiced eye and an itch to judge. While your grammar shouldn’t be a reflection of your creative powers or writing abilities, let’s face it — it usually is.

Below are 20 common grammar mistakes I see routinely, not only in editorial queries and submissions, but in print: in HR manuals, blogs, magazines, newspapers, trade journals, and even best selling novels. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve made each of these mistakes a hundred times, and I know some of the best authors in history have lived to see these very toadstools appear in print. Let's hope you can learn from some of their more famous mistakes.

Who and Whom

This one opens a big can of worms. “Who” is a subjective — or nominative — pronoun, along with "he," "she," "it," "we," and "they." It’s used when the pronoun acts as the subject of a clause. “Whom” is an objective pronoun, along with "him," "her," "it", "us," and "them." It’s used when the pronoun acts as the object of a clause. Using “who” or “whom” depends on whether you’re referring to the subject or object of a sentence. When in doubt, substitute “who” with the subjective pronouns “he” or “she,” e.g., Who loves you? cf., He loves me. Similarly, you can also substitute “whom” with the objective pronouns “him” or “her.” e.g., I consulted an attorney whom I met in New York. cf., I consulted him.

Which and That

This is one of the most common mistakes out there, and understandably so. “That” is a restrictive pronoun. It’s vital to the noun to which it’s referring. e.g., I don’t trust fruits and vegetables that aren’t organic. Here, I’m referring to all non-organic fruits or vegetables. In other words, I only trust fruits and vegetables that are organic. “Which” introduces a relative clause. It allows qualifiers that may not be essential. e.g., I recommend you eat only organic fruits and vegetables, which are available in area grocery stores. In this case, you don’t have to go to a specific grocery store to obtain organic fruits and vegetables. “Which” qualifies, “that” restricts. “Which” is more ambiguous however, and by virtue of its meaning is flexible enough to be used in many restrictive clauses. e.g., The house, which is burning, is mine. e.g., The house that is burning is mine.

Lay and Lie

This is the crown jewel of all grammatical errors. “Lay” is a transitive verb. It requires a direct subject and one or more objects. Its present tense is “lay” (e.g., I lay the pencil on the table) and its past tense is “laid” (e.g.,Yesterday I laid the pencil on the table). “Lie” is an intransitive verb. It needs no object. Its present tense is “lie” (e.g., The Andes mountains lie between Chile and Argentina) and its past tense is “lay” (e.g., The man lay waiting for an ambulance). The most common mistake occurs when the writer uses the past tense of the transitive “lay” (e.g., I laid on the bed) when he/she actually means the intransitive past tense of “lie" (e.g., I lay on the bed).

Moot

Contrary to common misuse, “moot” doesn’t imply something is superfluous. It means a subject is disputable or open to discussion. e.g., The idea that commercial zoning should be allowed in the residential neighborhood was a moot point for the council.

Continual and Continuous

They’re similar, but there’s a difference. “Continual” means something that's always occurring, with obvious lapses in time. “Continuous” means something continues without any stops or gaps in between. e.g., The continual music next door made it the worst night of studying ever. e.g., Her continuous talking prevented him from concentrating.

Envy and Jealousy

The word “envy” implies a longing for someone else’s good fortunes. “Jealousy” is far more nefarious. It’s a fear of rivalry, often present in sexual situations. “Envy” is when you covet your friend’s good looks. “Jealousy” is what happens when your significant other swoons over your good-looking friend.

Nor

“Nor” expresses a negative condition. It literally means "and not." You’re obligated to use the “nor” form if your sentence expresses a negative and follows it with another negative condition. “Neither the men nor the women were drunk” is a correct sentence because “nor” expresses that the women held the same negative condition as the men. The old rule is that “nor” typically follows “neither,” and “or” follows “either.” However, if neither “either” nor “neither” is used in a sentence, you should use “nor” to express a second negative, as long as the second negative is a verb. If the second negative is a noun, adjective, or adverb, you would use “or,” because the initial negative transfers to all conditions. e.g., He won’t eat broccoli or asparagus. The negative condition expressing the first noun (broccoli) is also used for the second (asparagus).

May and Might

“May” implies a possibility. “Might” implies far more uncertainty. “You may get drunk if you have two shots in ten minutes” implies a real possibility of drunkenness. “You might get a ticket if you operate a tug boat while drunk” implies a possibility that is far more remote. Someone who says “I may have more wine” could mean he/she doesn't want more wine right now, or that he/she “might” not want any at all. Given the speaker’s indecision on the matter, “might” would be correct.

Whether and If

Many writers seem to assume that “whether” is interchangeable with “if." It isn’t. “Whether” expresses a condition where there are two or more alternatives. “If” expresses a condition where there are no alternatives. e.g., I don’t know whether I’ll get drunk tonight. e.g., I can get drunk tonight if I have money for booze.

Fewer and Less

“Less” is reserved for hypothetical quantities. “Few” and “fewer” are for things you can quantify. e.g., The firm has fewer than ten employees. e.g., The firm is less successful now that we have only ten employees.

Farther and Further

The word “farther” implies a measurable distance. “Further” should be reserved for abstract lengths you can't always measure. e.g., I threw the ball ten feet farther than Bill. e.g., The financial crisis caused further implications.

Since and Because

“Since” refers to time. “Because” refers to causation. e.g., Since I quit drinking I’ve married and had two children. e.g., Because I quit drinking I no longer wake up in my own vomit.

Disinterested and Uninterested

Contrary to popular usage, these words aren’t synonymous. A “disinterested” person is someone who’s impartial. For example, a hedge fund manager might take interest in a headline regarding the performance of a popular stock, even if he's never invested in it. He’s “disinterested,” i.e., he doesn’t seek to gain financially from the transaction he’s witnessed. Judges and referees are supposed to be "disinterested." If the sentence you’re using implies someone who couldn't care less, chances are you’ll want to use “uninterested.”

Anxious

Unless you’re frightened of them, you shouldn’t say you’re “anxious to see your friends.” You’re actually “eager,” or "excited." To be “anxious” implies a looming fear, dread or anxiety. It doesn’t mean you’re looking forward to something.

Different Than and Different From

This is a tough one. Words like “rather” and “faster” are comparative adjectives, and are used to show comparison with the preposition “than,” (e.g., greater than, less than, faster than, rather than). The adjective “different” is used to draw distinction. So, when “different” is followed by a preposition, it should be “from,” similar to “separate from,” “distinct from,” or “away from.” e.g., My living situation in New York was different from home. There are rare cases where “different than” is appropriate, if “than” operates as a conjunction. e.g.,Development is different in New York than in Los Angeles. When in doubt, use “different from.”

Bring and Take

In order to employ proper usage of “bring” or “take,” the writer must know whether the object is being moved toward or away from the subject. If it is toward, use “bring.” If it is away, use “take.” Your spouse may tell you to “take your clothes to the cleaners.” The owner of the dry cleaners would say “bring your clothes to the cleaners.”

Impactful

It isn't a word. "Impact" can be used as a noun (e.g., The impact of the crash was severe) or a transitive verb (e.g., The crash impacted my ability to walk or hold a job). "Impactful" is a made-up buzzword, colligated by the modern marketing industry in their endless attempts to decode the innumerable nuances of human behavior into a string of mindless metrics. Seriously, stop saying this.

Affect and Effect

Here’s a trick to help you remember: “Affect” is almost always a verb (e.g., Facebook affects people’s attention spans), and “effect” is almost always a noun (e.g., Facebook's effects can also be positive). “Affect” means to influence or produce an impression — to cause hence, an effect. “Effect” is the thing produced by the affecting agent; it describes the result or outcome. There are some exceptions. “Effect” may be used as a transitive verb, which means to bring about or make happen. e.g., My new computer effected a much-needed transition from magazines to Web porn. There are similarly rare examples where “affect” can be a noun. e.g., His lack of affect made him seem like a shallow person.

Irony and Coincidence

Too many people claim something is the former when they actually mean the latter. For example, it’s not “ironic” that “Barbara moved from California to New York, where she ended up meeting and falling in love with a fellow Californian.” The fact that they’re both from California is a "coincidence." "Irony" is the incongruity in a series of events between the expected results and the actual results. "Coincidence" is a series of events that appear planned when they’re actually accidental. So, it would be "ironic" if “Barbara moved from California to New York to escape California men, but the first man she ended up meeting and falling in love with was a fellow Californian.”

Nauseous

Undoubtedly the most common mistake I encounter. Contrary to almost ubiquitous misuse, to be “nauseous” doesn’t mean you’ve been sickened: it actually means you possess the ability to produce nausea in others. e.g., That week-old hot dog is nauseous. When you find yourself disgusted or made ill by a nauseating agent, you are actually “nauseated.” e.g., I was nauseated after falling into that dumpster behind the Planned Parenthood. Stop embarrassing yourself.

If you’re looking for a practical, quick guide to proper grammar, I suggest the tried-and-true classic The Elements of Style, by William Strunk, Jr. and E. B. White. A few of these examples are listed in the book, and there are plenty more. Good luck!