August 7, 2023

Plural possessives are tricky

When I saw “men’s’ clothing” with two apostrophes, I figured it must be a typo. I was editing a professional writer who’s been on the job for years, and I know from experience that writers make typos, but none — none of them — think that two apostrophes go in “men’s’ clothing.”

But then I saw “women’s’ clothing,” with two apostrophes. Then “children’s’ clothing.”
That’s when I knew that what I was witnessing was not a single accidental strike of an apostrophe key. Instead, it was the weirdest take on plural possessives I’ve ever seen.

Most writers, in my experience, stumble on plural possessives — even writers who have no problem with singular possessives or plurals that aren’t possessive.
They understand that the tail of a dog is the dog’s tail, singular possessive. And they understand that when one dog joins another dog, you have two dogs, plural, not possessive. But when they have to apply both those rules to the same word, they start to lose their grasp on them.

For regular nouns like “dog,” making the plural possessive isn’t tough. Many get it right: “the dogs’ tails,” with the plural S followed by the possessive apostrophe. But nouns with irregular plurals, like “man,” “woman” and “child” trip them up. Throw in some confusing expressions like “each other,” and almost everyone loses their grasp on how to use apostrophes: childrens’? childrens? childs’? They’re not sure.

So what’s the trick to writing plural possessives correctly? Just remember these basic rules and don’t get frazzled. To make a plural noun that ends in S possessive, add an apostrophe: kids’ clothes. If you want to make possessive a plural irregular noun that does not end in S, like children, add both an apostrophe and also an S: children’s clothes.

It’s easy. Or it should be. But plural possessives get confusing because the letter S has too many jobs in English and they all get jumbled in our heads.
In English, S is used to form plurals. To talk about more than one dog, you add S: dogs.

S also forms possessives of nouns: the cat’s pajamas.

S is also used for verb conjugations. For the verb “let,” for instance, the third-person form is “lets”: he lets the cat out.

S also stands in for not one but several different words in contractions, where it adds an extra layer of confusion by pairing with an apostrophe. “It’s raining” means “It is raining,” with the letter S serving as an abbreviated form of “is.” But in “Who’s been sleeping in my bed,” the S stands for “has.” And in “Let’s eat,” the S represents the word “us,” which is hard to remember because no one says, “let us eat.”
Then come even more curveballs. You can read about them here in my recent column.

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July 31, 2023

Should fiction writers care about grammar?

A while back, a writer friend was teaching a fiction writing class and asked me some questions on behalf of some students who were struggling with grammar.

 I answered her questions — straightforward stuff about sentence-ending prepositions and placement of adverbs. Only afterward did I notice the nagging doubt in the pit of my stomach. These were fiction writers and I, indirectly, had them thinking about language “rules.” I could tell by the questions coming from Naomi that, as her students turned their focus to grammar, they were worrying about making mistakes and embarrassing themselves by exposing their imperfect grammar.

For fiction writers, this fear can be counterproductive. How can you focus on story and message and voice and character and description when you’re afraid every preposition or introductory phrase could be your downfall?

When you think about this long enough, you could easily conclude that fiction writers shouldn’t worry about grammar. But anyone who’s ever agreed to read a friend’s “novel in progress” knows the flip side of this argument. Grammar and punctuation errors aren't always nitpicky, minor things. They can make a big difference in the overall quality of a written work.

So what exactly is the role of grammar for the creative writer? Should he learn and follow the rules? Or should he cast them aside in the name of creative freedom?

The more I think about this, the more I think the answer is neither. Or perhaps both. I think that fiction writers who want to defy every grammar rule and convention under the sun should do so without hesitation. But the best way to get away with breaking the rules is by demonstrating a mastery of grammar.

Take for example the structure “might could.” That’s probably not one you want to use in a paper in an MBA program. “The leading economic indicators suggest that the GDP might could improve in the coming quarter.” Yet I’ve seen fiction writers like George R.R. Martin and Kerry Madden use “might could” to great effect. Martin uses it to strike a medieval tone in his “Game of Thrones” books. Madden used it in “Gentle’s Holler” to give her characters a Southern/rural voice.

Readers get it. It’s clear that the writers are using “might could” quite deliberately and not out of the belief that it’s more proper than a simple “might” or “could.”

What does that tell us about the grammar “requirements” on fiction writers? Well, it seems to me that if Martin or Madden had littered their manuscripts with “it’s” in place of “its,” the word “alot,” or evidence they don’t know “their” from “they’re,” they wouldn’t have earned the license to use structures that people consider “nonstandard” – terms like “might could” and “ain’t” and awkward double negatives and sentence fragments. (Indeed, they never would have been published in the first place.)

And from that perspective, I can see clearly the importance of grammar for fiction writers. For them, grammar is important. They should know as much as possible about syntax and usage rules and punctuation and word choice and spelling. But, whenever they feel it's appropriate, they should ignore those rules completely. Once a fiction writer has demonstrated that he knows his craft, readers will give him the benefit of the doubt in all his language choices. But if it’s clear he has bad grammar, every departure from the “proper” can and will be chalked up to ignorance.

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July 24, 2023

Dissatisfied and unsatisfied

Have you ever thought about the difference between “dissatisfied” and “unsatisfied”? Neither have I. At least, not until I was flipping through my copy of Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage recently.
If this book has a regular shtick, it’s debunking popular language prohibitions. For example: have you ever heard it’s wrong to split an infinitive? Well, this book will give you an earful on that one, making it quite clear there’s no such rule.

So I was more than a little surprised recently when I was thumbing through the usage guide and saw this: “dissatisfied, unsatisfied” Though ‘dissatisfied and unsatisfied appear to be synonyms, there are distinctions evident in the usage examples in the Merriam-Webster files.” (By the way, that’s what most language authorities base their opinions on: usage examples. That’s what academics do, too.)

The guide continues: “These examples show that ‘unsatisfied’ is more frequently used to modify nonhuman terms (such as ambition, debts, curiosity, demands, claims) than human ones and that in all instances the meaning is generally of something or someone being ‘unfulfilled’ or ‘unappeased.’”
The examples the book gives include published excerpts saying “… the curiosity was unsatisfied” and “a large unsatisfied demand for education.”

Then the book gives examples of dissatisfied, showing how it usually applies to people or groups and means “not pleased or gratified.” “Dissatisfied landowners stopped action” is one of the book’s examples.

Merriam-Webster’s usage guide makes clear that there’s some crossover. And a look at dictionary definitions proves there’s some overlap.

Webster’s New World College Dictionary defines “dissatisfied” as “not satisfied; displeased.” This dictionary doesn’t contain a definition for “unsatisfied.” So we have to think of it as a form of “satisfy” negated by the prefix “un.”

Because “un” can negate something, “unsatisfied” also means “not satisfied,” just as “dissatisfied” does.
According to this dictionary, the two words are overlapping. So it makes it that much more interesting that, in common usage — at least as far as Merriam-Webster’s usage guide can see — they’re not.

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July 17, 2023

Spot the complete sentence

Can you tell which of the following, if any, are complete sentences?

Outside!

Now!

Stop!

Onward!

Beautiful!

Here’s your first hint: Yes, one of these is a complete sentence. But only one. The rest aren’t errors, mind you. There’s nothing wrong with punctuating an incomplete sentence as if it were complete. When you do so, it’s called a sentence fragment. And writers — even many of the very best writers — use sentence fragments all the time.

A while back, I wrote in a column that "onward" and "outside" are not complete sentences, which irked some readers. If you yell either of these words at someone, they argued, your point is 100% clear and complete. So why was I being such a pain and refusing to acknowledge they’re complete sentences?

Answer: Just because a thought is clear and complete doesn’t make it a complete sentence.

A complete sentence must contain at least one clause. A clause is a subject and a verb, and neither can be left implied, with one exception: Imperatives, that is, commands, always leave their subjects implied. It’s not a problem because the subject is always the same: “you.” So when you tell someone “Eat!” the subject is already built in to the verb, if you will.

But in four of our five sentences above, not only is there no subject, there’s no verb either. Outside! Now! Onward! and Beautiful! aren't verbs. Yes, they make clear the verbs that they’re implying. (Go) outside! (Do it) now! (Move) onward! (That is) beautiful! But verbs must be explicit in order to make a complete sentence.

So  on our list only Stop! is a complete sentence because it’s the only one that meets the criteria of having a verb (which must be explicit) and a subject (which, in commands only, can be left implied.)

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July 3, 2023

'Less' and 'fewer' aren't just about mass nouns and count nouns

People who are careful about their grammar take extra care with “less” and “fewer.” Most of the time, the results are good. “Ben has fewer worries this year” sounds better than “Ben has less worries this year.”

But even though they make good choices most of the time, sticklers on the less-and-fewer issue usually don’t understand the grammar as well as they think they do. So when they take a hard line approach, they set themselves up for a fall.

Ask anyone who’s careful with “less” and “fewer” to explain the difference, and they’ll tell you this: “Less” is for mass nouns and “fewer” is for count nouns.

Mass nouns are things that aren’t counted, like “music,” “air” and “energy.” Count nouns, as the name suggests, can be counted: “song,” “molecule,” “volt.”

Mass nouns have no plural form. You say, “I love music,” not “musics.” You say, “I breathe air,” not “airs.” And you say, “He has so much energy,” not “so many energies.”

Count nouns have a plural form and a singular form. So you can say, “I like that song” or “I like those songs.” You can say, “one molecule” or “two molecules.” You can say “one volt” or “100 volts.”

So if it’s true you must use “fewer” for count nouns, then those grocery store express lane signs that say “10 items or less” are grammatically incorrect. After all, as any stickler will tell you, “item” is a count noun. And if count nouns require “fewer,” then those checkout lanes are wrong to use “less.”

A better guide for when to choose “less” or “fewer” isn’t about mass nouns and count nouns. It’s about singulars and plurals. Consider this scenario: You’re in the express lane, which is for 10 items or fewer, and you realize you have 11 items, so you take one out of your cart. You now have one less item, not one fewer item, since “item” is singular here. Here's the full story in my recent column.

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June 26, 2023

'Less' and 'fewer' isn't just a matter of mass nouns vs. count nouns

People who are careful about their grammar take extra care with “less” and “fewer.” Most of the time, the results are good. “Ben has fewer worries this year” sounds better than “Ben has less worries this year.”

But even though they make good choices most of the time, sticklers on the less-and-fewer issue usually don’t understand the grammar as well as they think they do. So when they take a hard line approach, they set themselves up for a fall.

Ask anyone who’s careful with “less” and “fewer” to explain the difference, and they’ll tell you this: “Less” is for mass nouns and “fewer” is for count nouns.

Mass nouns are things that aren’t counted, like “music,” “air” and “energy.” Count nouns, as the name suggests, can be counted: “song,” “molecule,” “volt.”

Mass nouns have no plural form. You say, “I love music,” not “musics.” You say, “I breathe air,” not “airs.” And you say, “He has so much energy,” not “so many energies.”

Count nouns have a plural form and a singular form. So you can say, “I like that song” or “I like those songs.” You can say, “one molecule” or “two molecules.” You can say “one volt” or “100 volts.”

So if it’s true you must use “fewer” for count nouns, then those grocery store express lane signs that say “10 items or less” are grammatically incorrect. After all, as any stickler will tell you, “item” is a count noun. And if count nouns require “fewer,” then those checkout lanes are wrong to use “less.”

But there are a few problems with this reasoning. I explain here in my recent column.

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June 19, 2023

AP softens on the Oxford comma

“We don’t ban the Oxford comma.”

That was the subject line of an email the Associated Press Stylebook editors recently sent to subscribers. To anyone who’s been on the frontlines of the comma wars, the message seemed like an olive branch — or possibly a white flag.

Not familiar with the Oxford comma controversy? It’s a tempest in a teapot — a trumped-up battle between people who eschew an optional comma, called the Oxford or serial comma, and the devotees of this little punctuation mark.

The Oxford comma, or serial comma, comes before the conjunction in a list of three or more things. If you write, “The flag is red, white, and blue,” you’re using an Oxford comma. If you write, “The flag is red, white and blue,” you’re not. Either way, you’re using correct punctuation because this comma is optional.

The publishing world’s two major style guides take different positions on whether editors should use this comma. The Chicago Manual of Style, followed by many book and magazine publishers, is in favor.

“When a conjunction joins the last two elements in a series of three or more, a comma — known as the serial or series comma or the Oxford comma — should appear before the conjunction,” says the Chicago manual’s 17th edition, adding for emphasis: “Chicago strongly recommends this widely practiced usage.”

AP is mostly opposed. “Use commas to separate elements in a series, but do not put a comma before the conjunction in most simple series,” the stylebook advises. But unlike Chicago, AP editors don’t use the next sentence to strenuously underscore their point. Instead, AP emphasizes that the rule is flexible. “Include a final comma in a simple series if omitting it could make the meaning unclear.” Dig a little deeper into the Chicago manual and you see they make exceptions, too, albeit reluctantly. I explain why in my recent column.

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June 12, 2023

'People like you and I feel betrayed'? Or should that be 'me'?

“People like you and I feel betrayed.”

See anything wrong with that sentence? Most people probably don’t, but there is a problem with it and, for me, the problem is eye-opening.

Here’s the issue: If you want to be as proper and correct as possible, that “I” should be “me.” And for all the years I’ve spent attuned to the finer points of choosing “me” over “I,” I don’t believe I ever considered this situation until I came across this sentence recently in an article I was reading.

I know what you grammar-savvy types are thinking: “I” is a subject here. It’s performing the verb “feel.” And you’re right that “I feel betrayed” is normally the correct choice over “me feel betrayed.” The “you” doesn’t change that. It’s “you and I feel betrayed,” not “you and me feel betrayed.”

But there’s more going on in this sentence than meets the eye. And to see why “me” is the better choice here, it’s best to start with a review of subject and object pronouns.

When a pronoun is performing the action in a verb, it’s a subject. The personal pronouns in subject form are: I, you, he, she, it, we and they.

When a pronoun is receiving the action of a verb, it’s an object. The personal pronouns in object form are: me, you, him, her, it, us and them.

You’re probably already a master of subject and object pronouns in most situations. You wouldn’t say, “Us watched a movie,” using the object form. You’d say, “We watched a movie,” using the subject form, because that’s who’s doing the watching. That’s why “I feel betrayed” is normally correct and “Me feel betrayed” is not.

But our sentence, “People like you and I feel betrayed,” is a trap. “I” looks like a subject. But it’s not. The real subject of this sentence is “people”: “people feel betrayed.” Read more about it here in my recent column.

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June 5, 2023

'Enjoy summer better'?

Here’s an interesting email I got a while back:

<<I enjoy your column and am curious about your opinion of the Time Warner ads enticing us to “Enjoy summer better” and “Enjoy back to school better.” My initial reaction was a snicker and comeback: “I already enjoy it good,” but I can’t figure out why it irks me. Is it nasty grammar, stinky syntax, or just me?>>

Usually people who write me have a specific problem with a usage and ask me whether I agree that a usage is wrong. But in this case, she didn’t have a specific problem. It was kind of my job to figure out her problem -- then address it.

I did the best I could. Here was my response:

<<I'm not sure what exactly the issue is with "Enjoy summer better," either. Perhaps it's rooted in an idea that "better" is an adjective and therefore can't modify a verb like "enjoy"? It actually is both an adjective and an adverb: http://www.yourdictionary.com/better. In the latter form, it means "in a more excellent manner" or "in a more suitable way."

So "better" is grammatical as a modifier of "enjoy." But it's a little unidiomatic. It's more common to say you enjoy something "more" than to say you enjoy it "better." So, yeah, it's a kind of odd.

The other issue could be that "better" always suggests a "than."

"I like Joe better" only works in a context in which the listener already knows who I'm comparing Joe to.

Your example sentence leaves the "than" concept implied. "Enjoy summer better than you would have without our service" is, I suppose, the general idea. But without an explicit "than" or any context to suggest one, a lone "better" seems a little out of place.

As for "Enjoy back to school better," it's a bit of a stretch -- though not wrong, per se -- to treat "back to school" as a noun. Still, I'm sure most linguists would argue that it's sufficiently established as a noun to render this sentence grammatical.

Hope that helps!>>

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May 29, 2023

Dissociate/disassociate, preventive/preventative, recur/reoccur and other mischievous/mischievious word pairs

We’ve all been there: You’re about to write or say a word when you realize there are two forms and you don’t know which is correct. One of them is shorter, like dissociate, the other seems more logical, like disassociate.

Maybe you’re struggling to choose between preventive and preventative. Or recur vs. reoccur, dissemble vs. disassemble, mischievous vs. mischievious, flammable vs. inflammable, comment vs. commentate.

Which do you choose? And how do you know?

Sometimes in language there’s a blanket solution, like “The one that sounds best is probably best.” But with these word pairs, there’s no one-size-fits-all strategy. The only way to be sure is to look them up.

Here are some word pairs you can only navigate with a dictionary.

Disassociate/dissociate. I’ve never been comfortable with either of these words. They both sound a little wrong to me. So I usually find a workaround, like “avoid” or “not associate with” or “sever ties with.” Now that I’ve finally looked them up, I can see that all my mental gymnastics were unnecessary: dissociate and disassociate are synonyms, according to Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, which argues that playing favorites here is silly: “Dissociate is recommended by a number of commentators on the basis that it is shorter, which it is by a grand total of two letters — not the firmest ground for an endorsement. Both words are in current good use, but disassociate is used more often in the U.S.”

Disassemble/dissemble. If English were logical, disassemble/dissemble would work just like dissociate/disassociate. But it’s not, so these words have two completely different meanings. To disassemble means to take something apart — to do the opposite of assembling it. But to dissemble means to lie or otherwise misrepresent something. They’re not interchangeable.

For more, see my recent column here.

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