Words Fail Me Part 7

When you write with props, you don't say merely that a melody is pleasing, you say that it's pleasing to the ear. A dancer isn't just graceful, she's graceful on her feet. Take off the training wheels. You don't need them and neither do your readers.

You'll have to search carefully for props in your writing because they're hidden in plain sight. The obvious, as we all know, can be hard to see.

Look first at phrases starting with prepositions (by, for, in, of, on, to, and so on), and be sure they're necessary. This sentence includes a cla.s.sic example of an unnecessary prop: Tom planned in advance to steal the jam. Since planning is generally done ahead of time, who needs in advance?

People toss off redundant expressions when their minds are elsewhere. Pretty soon they don't notice them. Someone fond of prop words might write a real estate flyer that reads like this: The Neo-Tuscan farmhouse is filled to the rafters with charm. Barn-red in color, it is built of handmade Belgian brick that was flown in by plane from Bruges. Situated on a rise of ground amid formal gardens, the house is minimalist in design yet s.p.a.cious in size. It's an easy drive by car to prime shopping, and a leisurely walk on foot to a secluded nature preserve.

A prepositional phrase that doesn't add anything should be subtracted. If you're unsure, just imagine that the phrase isn't there. Then, if it isn't missed, drop it. Don't put up with things that are sour to the taste, soft to the touch, haughty in manner, stocky in build, ringed around the edge, rough in texture, short in stature, pretty in appearance, a.s.sembled in a group, st.u.r.dy in construction, or given away for nothing.

Another kind of prop is the unnecessary adjective or adverb (these are words describing things or actions). Reconsider such expressions as piercingscream, sudden start, advance reservations, future plans, forward progress, initial beginning, and that old upward surge. And try to avoid demanding insistently, screeching loudly, seeing visually, experiencing personally, concealing secretively, and filing singly onto a bus. There's more about this problem in chapter 11.

Pay attention. Prop words sneak into your writing when your mind is elsewhere. I've used them myself, but that's past history.

17. Critique of Poor Reason.

THE ART OF MAKING SENSE.

Your first duty to the reader is to make sense. Everything else-eloquence, beautiful images, catchy phrases, melodic and rhythmic language-comes later, if at all. I'm all for artistry, but it's better to write something homely and clear than something lovely and unintelligible.

Of course, no one sets out to write nonsense. We do it because we're careless with words. We know what we mean, naturally, but others can't read our minds. Words are all a reader has. What makes perfect sense to us might seem illogical, incoherent, insensitive, or silly to someone else.

Say you're recommending a new kind of software to your boss. Don't say it's incomparable, then go on to compare it to Microsoft's version. Don't call two things virtually identical, then list their many differences. Too often we write on automatic pilot, not giving enough thought to the meaning of our words.

Thoughtless writing might even be unintentionally cruel. A talented city official who happens to be a double amputee might be offended if you called him the mayor's right-hand man. Then again, he might not. In some circ.u.mstances, ordinary expressions can be hurtful or inappropriate. A casual phrase that's acceptable in conversation (saying that a blind person has failed to see a point, for example, or that a deaf person didn't listen) might look insensitive on the page. If in doubt, take it out.

Fools Rush In.

The best way to avoid using a word or phrase foolishly is to think about all of its possible meanings. Take the word penniless. We all know what it means: poor. But what if Bill Cosby takes a handful of change out of his pocket and discovers he doesn't have any pennies? To call him penniless would be accurate, strictly speaking. But it would be a dumb thing to write unless you were trying to be funny.

Everyone who writes has common sense to some degree. But we don't all use it as often as we should. We become careless about what we've written, never imagining it might look silly to readers. If you don't want them to snicker, don't write sentences like these: Milton found that he was lost.

Francoise struck a candid pose.

Olga bent over backward to please her gymnastics coach.

Martha says tortilla chips are handy in a crunch.

There was a stony silence at the granite quarry.

The search for Santa Fe's first street turned up an alley.

A ton of cocaine is nothing to sneeze at.

You might say those examples fill a much-needed gap.

The Overactive Imagination.

An imaginative flourish here or there can make dry writing come to life. But ill-considered imagery can create the wrong picture-or too many pictures. Put yourself in the reader's place and think about the images you've created. They might be unintentionally ditsy, as in these examples: Mrs. Proudie left no stone unturned in her search for a son-in-law. Maybe her daughter goes for worms.

As Jethro ate squid for the first time, his heart was in his throat. Heimlich maneuver, anyone?

Some writers think two images are twice as nice, but they're only half right. Two is a crowd, especially if they're within spitting distance of each other, as they are here: Tonya's ace in the hole took the wind out of Nancy's sails.

Mario was on a wild-goose chase and ran out of steam.

When Job got the short end of the stick, it was the last straw.

A dyed-in-the-wool vegan doesn't cotton to meatb.a.l.l.s.

Daisy and Tom didn't see eye to eye, so she gave him an earful.

Don't make too many demands on the reader's imagination. One image at a time, please.

References Required.

Our writing would be awfully klutzy if we had to repeat ourselves whenever we referred to something already mentioned. Luckily, we don't have to. There are proxies we can subst.i.tute for words or phrases we've used before. But a proxy-especially this, that, which, here, there, now, then- can be misleading if it's used thoughtlessly. The problem comes up when we've mentioned more than one thing and the reader has to guess which one the proxy refers to.

A research paper on dietary habits in small countries might include this sentence: Every day the average adult in Grand Fenwick consumes two gallons of raw milk, which can be dangerous.

What's dangerous? The raw milk? Or drinking gallons at a time? The writer probably means the milk, so here's a solution: The average adult in Grand Fenwick consumes raw milk, which can be dangerous, at the rate of two gallons a day. That's awkward, perhaps, but it's clear. I'd rather drop which entirely: Raw milk can be dangerous, but the average adult in Grand Fenwick consumes two gallons a day.

Sometimes that is the question. Imagine this sentence in a customer's complaint to a bookshop: You claim the book is rare because it's a first edition, but that's incorrect.

What's incorrect? That the book is rare? Or that it's a first edition? There are several possibilities. The customer could mean this: You claim the book is rare, but that's incorrect, even though it is a first edition. Or perhaps this: You claim the book is a first edition, but that's incorrect, even though it is rare. I'd find it more graceful to drop that. For example, The book is a first edition, as you claim, but it's not rare.

In the next sentence, which we might see in an Internet newsgroup, there's more than one there there: I said the software was compatible so the hard drive wouldn't crash, but I was mistaken there.

Exactly where is there? Was the writer mistaken about the software, the hard drive, or both? a.s.suming the worst, make it: I said the software was compatible, but I was mistaken there, so the hard drive crashed.

Computers can get us into trouble in more ways than one. You might find this item on a hackers' bulletin board: Kevin couldn't stop breaking into the Pentagon computer system even though the FBI was watching him, now that he was an Internet celebrity.

What does the sentence mean? Now that Kevin's a celebrity, he can't stop? Or now that he's a celebrity, the FBI is watching? Here's one solution: Now that he was an Internet celebrity, Kevin couldn't stop breaking into the Pentagon computer system, even though the FBI was watching him.

People don't normally read a sentence in a vacuum. They can usually figure out what it means. But they shouldn't have to. If there's any chance that readers might misunderstand, tinker with the sentence.

Say It Isn't So.

An explanation can be confusing when it tells us why something isn't so. The danger signs are the words not and because. Used together, they can tangle an explanation in nots.

Can you untie this one? He did not marry her because she was a Methodist. Do you see why that sentence is tangled? No, it has nothing to do with religion or romance.

The problem is that the sentence can be read in two ways. It could mean: Because she was a Methodist, he did not marry her. Or: He married her, but not because she was a Methodist. We shouldn't have to be mind readers to understand an explanation.

The not is just as slippery if it's part of a contraction. Try to find the two possible explanations here: A.J. didn't change the tires because he was doing practice laps the next day.

Did he or didn't he change the tires? Make it: Because he was doing practice laps the next day, A.J. didn't change the tires. Or: A.J. changed the tires, but not because he was doing practice laps the next day.

Why worry about a few nots? Because making sense is the most important part of writing. That makes sense, doesn't it?

18. Grammar Moses.

THOU SHALT NOT EMBARRa.s.s THYSELF.

You think n.o.body cares about grammar? The next time you post a message to an Internet newsgroup, try mixing up it's and its, lie and lay, or there and their, and see what happens. The grammar police will be on your case, and you' ll get so many flames that your modem will smoke.

Believe me, people care. Whether you're writing e-mail or snail mail, a Web page or a page of a memoir, grammar counts. Readers may dismiss writing that's otherwise okay, even terrific, if the grammar is screwed up. This is no small matter, particularly when you're trying to make a good impression-applying for a job, say, or trying to sell a book proposal, or writing an essay for admission to college.

It's a good bet, though, that your grammar isn't perfect. If you didn't learn it in school (like most Americans under forty) or if you've forgotten what you were taught, buy a grammar book and keep it right beside your dictionary. Don't be intimidated. Grammar books aren't as forbidding and textbooky as they used to be, and not all of them bristle with technical terms. You don't need to know the heavy terminology, anyway. You can be a good driver even if you can't name all the parts of a car.

This chapter is no subst.i.tute for a grammar book. But until you get one, here's a look at some of the blunders that writers make most often.

An I for an I.

Hugh Downs, who often wraps up 20/20 broadcasts by saying, "Good night from Barbara and me," has gotten indignant letters from viewers who think, mistakenly, that he should be saying "from Barbara and I." I hear that the same thing used to happen to Harry Reasoner when he did the evening news with Barbara Walters.

Perhaps the single most common mistake in grammar these days is using I instead of me. "This is just between you and I,"a friend writes conspiratorially. Or a colleague says in a memo, "The boss humiliated Ellen and I." Or Aunt Agatha writes, "Happy Birthday from Uncle Miltie and I."

It's me, it's me, it's me, O Lord!

So what's I got that me doesn't? Many people seem to feel that I is somehow cla.s.sier than me, probably because of all the nagging they got as kids for saying, "Me want Twinkies," or "Me hate broccoli." They're left with the impression that there's something second-rate about me. Impressions like that are hard to overcome, but a trick might help.

When I or me appears by itself, we never mess up. No one says, "The boss humiliated I." So when I or me is part of a pair, just eliminate the other guy. In Aunt Agatha's note, for example, get rid of Uncle Miltie: Happy Birthday from me; then put him back in the picture: Happy Birthday from Uncle Miltie and me. Give it a try.

The same trick works with he and him, she and her, they and them, and other p.r.o.nouns (words that stand in for nouns, like Ike, La.s.sie, or the Nelsons). Take the sentence Ricky saw she and David at the mall. Is it she or her? Lose David and the answer is obvious: Ricky saw her [and David] at the mall.

Remember, too, that a p.r.o.noun at the front of a sentence is more likely to be a subject (I, he, she, they, etc.), while one at the back is more likely to be an object (me, him, her, them). When you have to guess, play the odds.

The Agreeable Writer.

"I don't want to talk grammar, I want to talk like a lady," said Eliza Doolittle, the flower peddler in George Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion. Sorry, but we can't talk or write well without using words correctly. So let's talk grammar some more.

A big part of grammar is matching up the verb (the action word) with the subject (who or what is doing the action). If a subject is singular, the verb is too. If the actor is plural, so is the action word. n.o.body should have trouble with a simple sentence, such as Linda tapes every phone call. The subject, Linda, is singular and so is the verb, tapes. But what if the sentence isn't so simple? Let's toss in something extra between the subject and the verb: Linda, along with her techie friends, [tape or tapes] every phone call. Which is it? No, the verb doesn't change. Since Linda is still the subject, the verb is still singular: tapes.

When you come across a sentence with a lot of information separating the subject and the verb, don't be misled. Phrases such as along with, as well as, together with, and in addition to don't change a singular subject. Mentally eliminate the extra stuff and you won't go wrong.

The Terrible Twos.

Familiarity breeds contemptible grammar. Some words are misused so often that the errors start to look right. How many times have you read something like, Sleeping Beauty laid down for a nap, or Bill should train Buddy not to lay in the driveway? Close, but no cigar. Sleeping Beauty lay down, and Buddy should be taught where to lie.

Many English words are easy to confuse because they look and sound so much alike. Lie and lay are good examples, along with their and there, its and it's, and your and you're. Here are some quick reminders to make sure you use them correctly.