grammar

All posts tagged grammar

Grammatical Sabbatical

Published October 28, 2015 by Shadow Girl

grammar

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American Association Against Acronym Abuse

Published October 8, 2015 by Shadow Girl

AcronymAbuse

Fun With Grammar

Published September 24, 2015 by Shadow Girl

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Mnemonic Man by Steven Frank

Published January 17, 2015 by Shadow Girl

Mnemonic ManMnemonic Man by Steven Frank

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

mne-mon-ic (ni-MON-ic) noun
A device, such as a formula or rhyme, used as an aid in remembering.
Gk. mnemonikos, of memory; rel. to Mnemosyne, the Goddess of memory.

Mne-mon-ic Man (ni-MON-ic man) noun
A superhero from outer space who coaches humans on grammar, dating, and other survival skills.

Written by Steven Frank, Mnemonic Man is a ‘graphic romance for the grammatically challenged’.
It’s very cute & fun read, filled with tons of NtK grammar facts. You can also take THE MNEMONIC CHALLENGE at the end of the book. It’s one that I’m happy I have in my collection – I just need to remember to use it!
*The comics probably look a little better in the paperback edition

View more of my reviews.

“Weird Al” Yankovic – Word Crimes

Published July 16, 2014 by Shadow Girl

WORD CRIMES is a general send-up of people with poor grammar.

Thank you, Wierd Al!!

“If you can’t write in the proper way / if you don’t know how to conjugate,” “maybe you flunked that class / and maybe now you find that people mock you online.”

He eventually delves into some brief grammar lessons, so you might actually learn a thing or two about parts of speech by listening.

Murder! Call the Grammar Police!

Published May 19, 2014 by Shadow Girl

VERBICIDE

VERBICIDE
ver·bi·cide [VUR-buh-sahyd]
noun
1. the willful distortion or depreciation of the original meaning of a word.

2. a person who willfully distorts the meaning of a word.

Examples:

1. Life and language are alike sacred. Homicide and verbicide–that is, violent treatment of a word with fatal results to
legitimate meaning, which is its life–are alike forbidden.Oliver Wendell Holmes, “The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table,”
The Atlantic Monthly, 1857

DeadlyWeapon

2. Men often commit verbicide because they want to snatch a word as a party banner, to appropriate its ‘selling quality’. C.S. Lewis, Studies in Words, 1960

Origin:

Verbicide joins a variant of the Latin verbum, meaning “word,” with -cide, a suffix used in the formation of compound words that means “killer” or “act of killing.”

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8 Words To Seek And Destroy In Your Writing

Published March 15, 2014 by Shadow Girl

8 Words to Seek and Destroy in Your Writing
COLUMN BY ROBBIE BLAIR NOVEMBER 9, 2012

Creating powerful prose requires killing off the words, phrases, and sentences that gum up your text. While a critical eye and good judgment are key in this process, some terms almost always get in the way. Here are eight words or phrases that should be hunted down in your story and deleted with extreme prejudice.

“Suddenly”

“Sudden” means quickly and without warning, but using the word “suddenly” both slows down the action and warns your reader. Do you know what’s more effective for creating the sense of the sudden? Just saying what happens.

“I pay attention to every motion, every movement, my eyes locked on them.
Suddenly, The gun goes off.”

When using “suddenly,” you communicate through the narrator that the action seemed sudden. By jumping directly into the action, you allow the reader to experience that suddenness first hand. “Suddenly” also suffers from being nondescript, failing to communicate the nature of the action itself; providing no sensory experience or concrete fact to hold on to. Just … suddenly.

Feel free to employ “suddenly” in situations where the suddenness is not apparent in the action itself. For example, in “Suddenly, I don’t hate you anymore,” the “suddenly” substantially changes the way we think about the shift in emotional calibration.

“Then”

“Then” points vaguely to the existing timeline and says, “It was after that last thing I talked about.” But the new action taking place in a subsequent sentence or sentence part implies that much already. You can almost always eliminate your thens without disrupting meaning or flow.

“I woke up. Then I, brushed my teeth. Then I, combed my hair. Then I , and went to work.”

“Then” should be used as a clarifying agent, to communicate that two seemingly concurrent actions are happening in sequence. For example, “I drove to the supermarket. Then I realized I didn’t need to buy anything.” Without the “then,” it would be easy to mistake this as pre-existing knowledge or as a realization that happened during the drive itself. “Then” can occasionally be useful for sentence flow, but keep the use of the word to a minimum.

“In order to”

You almost never need the phrase “in order to” to express a point. The only situation where it’s appropriate to use this phrase is when using “to” alone would create ambiguity or confusion.

“I’m giving you the antidote in order to save you.”

And after ten minutes of brainstorming for an example of a proper time to use “in order to,” I haven’t been able to come up with anything. Legitimate uses of “in order to” are just that few and far between.

“Very” and “Really”

Words are self-contained descriptors, and saying, “Think of tasty. Now think of more tasty” doesn’t help readers develop a better sense of the meal or person you’re describing.

“Her breath was very cold chill as ice against my neck.”

Mark Twain suggested that writers could “substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” Another strategy is to find a more powerful version of the same idea or give concrete details. To say “It was very/really/damn hot” does little, but saying “It was scorching” helps. Even better?: “The air rippled like desert sky as my body crisped into a reddened, dried-out husk.”

“Is”

Is, am, are, was, or were—whatever form your “is” takes, it’s likely useless. When’s the last time you and your friends just “was’d” for a while? Have you ever said, “Hey, guys, I can’t—I’m busy am-ing”?

The “is” verbs are connecting terms that stand between your readers and the actual description. This is especially true when it comes to the “is” + “ing” verb pair. Any time you use “is,” you’re telling the reader that the subject is in a state of being. Using an “ing” verb tells the audience the verb is in process. By using “is verbing,” you’re telling your audience that the subject is in the state of being of being in the process of doing something.

Take this example:

“I was sprinting sprinted toward the doorway.”

If the description is actually about a state of being—”they are angry,” “are evil,” or “are dead”—then is it up. But don’t gunk up your verbs with unnecessary is, am, or was-ing.

“Started”

Any action a person takes is started, continued, and finished. All three of these can be expressed by the root form of the verb. For example, “I jumped.” The reader who stops in frustration, saying, “But when did the jump start? When did it finish?” has problems well beyond the scope of the content they’re reading.

If you’ve been doing yoga for six years, you could reasonably say, “I started doing yoga six years ago.” For you, yoga is an ongoing action with a concrete starting point. But when describing action in a story, there are few circumstances where “start” is effective.

Let’s take this case and look at the potential fixes:

He started screaming.

Is it a single scream? Use “He screamed.” Are you telling us his screams will be background noise for a while? Rather than clueing us in unnecessarily, show us the series of screams first-hand. Do you want to introduce a changed state, such as escalating from loud speaking into screaming? Show us the decibels, the gruffness of voice, the way the air feels to the person he’s screaming at, and the hot dryness in the screamer’s throat as his volume crescendos.

“That”

“That” is a useful word for adding clarity, but like Bibles on the bedstands of seedy motel rooms, the word’s presence is often out of plac<<e.

When “that” is employed to add a description, you can almost always move the description to before the term and make a more powerful image.

“Ireland was nothing but flowing green hills that flowed green.”

In many other cases, “that” can simply be dropped or replaced with a more descriptive term.

“I was drunk the night that your father and I met.”

Many other uses of “that,” such as “I wish I wasn’t that ugly”, can be enhanced with more descriptive language.

“Like”

I’m not just saying that, like, you shouldn’t, like, talk like a valley girl (though that too). Here’s the problem: “Like” is used to show uncertainty. And you. Should. Not. Be. Uncertain.

Be bold. When making a comparison, use force. Use metaphor over simile. Don’t let yourself cop out by coming up with a halfway description.

“My eyes rested on the gun for a sliver of a moment. I snapped forward, grabbed it, and it was like the chill metal flowed from the gun into my veins.”

One of the 36 articles by the infamously fantastic Chuck Palahniuk dives into the issue of like in great detail. It’s well worth checking out.

As always, Orwell’s final rule applies: “Break any of these rules before saying anything barbarous.” There are instances where each of these words fills a valuable role. However, especially among inexperienced writers, these words are frequently molested and almost always gum up the works.

Apply these lessons immediately and consistently to empower your words. Then, with practice, you will suddenly realize that you are starting to naturally trim the text in order to create prose that is very powerful.

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