I’ve been falling behind on getting these posted, so you have four new articles to check out:
”Hopefully, Wistful No More:” An extended discussion of why it’s OK to begin a sentence with Hopefully.
”Defending Copyright on the Web:” What to do to find out if your content has been stolen, and what to do if it has.
”What’s the Deal with E-Books?” In which I talk to several e-book industry experts to get the scoop.
”Writers, Safeguard those Precious Words:” I describe my backup system, how I keep multiple copies of documents in sync, and how I record interviews without a tape recorder.
A couple of years ago, Roy Peter Clark wrote a series of essays describing 50 tools or strategies for better writing. You can check them out here on Poynter Online.
The bad news is that they’re not going to be available online for much longer, so go check them out while you still can.
The good news is that they’ll soon appear in book form from Little, Brown: Writing Tools: 50 Essential Strategies for Every Writer.
Kathy Sierra points out a fine example of a graphic that doesn’t say quite what the designers intended.
The picture above is a sign posted at a local trailhead. What does it mean? (Getting it wrong, by the way, means a $50 fine.) It’s supposed to mean, “Each human can have no more than two dogs under their control.” (this is a leash-optional trail) And while most people could—after cocking their head to the side—figure it out, I have to laugh about what else this sign says like:
“You can have a German Shepard, and an Old English Sheepdog, but SPRINGER SPANIELS ARE STRICTLY PROHIBITED!”
Go check out the post to see the image, and you’ll understand. Kathy uses this example to launch into a discussion of some general design principles, but I’d add one more idea to her list: Test your message, whether it’s an image or text.
If you’re a regular reader, you know that I’ve been interviewing people about plain language. And one thing that keeps coming up over and over is the need to test your message on its intended audience, to be sure that the meaning they get from it is the meaning you intend. In the example Kathy showed, it would have been a simple matter to show the sign to a few people and say “What do you think this means?”
Why is testing so important? Because we assume that something that’s perfectly clear to us will be just as clear to everyone else. That assumption often falls apart in the real world. For example, the Veterans Benefits Administration learned that their audience wasn’t sure what the term “gainful employment” meant when they tested a letter. It seemed clear to the writers of the letter, but it wasn’t clear to the intended recipients. A simple re-write before they sent out the letter saved everyone a lot of confusion.
Test your message. Even if you only get a chance to ask someone in a nearby cube, have them read your message, and then ask “In your own words, what does that mean to you?”
This one’s gotten a good bit of exposure here and there: 10 flagrant grammar mistakes that make you look stupid by Jody Gilbert.
It’s good as far as it goes, but it doesn’t quite go far enough, I think, because it just says “Don’t do that, instead do this,” with examples, but without any explanation. So in the spirit of blogging and information sharing, and with due credit for the original article to Jody Gilbert, I offer a “New and Improved 10 flagrant grammar mistakes!”
(Note: Gilbert’s original list is the indented text, and my commentary is not indented.)
#1: Loose for lose
No: I always loose the product key.
Yes: I always lose the product key.
Loose (pronounced “loos”) is primarily used as an adjective; lose (pronounced “looz”) is the verb. You can lose the loose change in your pocket. Note that “loose” can also be a verb, but it means to release or untie. So if you mean that you always untie product keys, then saying “I always loose the product key” is fine.
Its is the possessive form of the pronoun it. It’s is a contraction for it is or it has. Remember that the possessive forms of the pronouns he, she, and they — his, hers, theirs — do not have apostrophes, and the same applies to it. When
#2: It’s for its (or god forbid, its’)
No: Download the HTA, along with it’s readme file.
Yes: Download the HTA, along with its readme file.
Similar the number
#3: They’re for their for there
No: The managers are in they’re weekly planning meeting.
Yes: The managers are in their weekly planning meeting.
#4: i.e. for e.g.
No: Use an anti-spyware program (i.e., Ad-Aware).
Yes: Use an anti-spyware program (e.g., Ad-Aware).
Note: The term i.e. means “that is”; e.g. means “for example”. And a comma follows both of them.
Here Gilbert gives an explanation for what’s going on, but even better would be to avoid using abbreviations for Latin terms, and stick with the English that is and for example. If you have a hard time remembering when to use i.e. and e.g., your readers are likely to have a hard time remembering what they mean.
#5: Effect for affect
No: The outage shouldn’t effect any users during work hours.
Yes: The outage shouldn’t affect any users during work hours.
Yes: The outage shouldn’t have any effect on users.
Yes: We will effect several changes during the downtime.
Note: Impact is not a verb. Purists, at least, beg you to use affect instead:
No: The outage shouldn’t impact any users during work hours.
Yes: The outage shouldn’t affect any users during work hours.
Yes: The outage should have no impact on users during work hours.
This is a tough one to keep straight, and current usage is blurring the boundaries. First off, the verb affect has two meanings: 1) “to make a show of liking; to put on a pretense of,” and 2) “to produce an effect in or on, influence.” It’s the second meaning that most people intend nowadays. Effect is also a verb, but rather than meaning “to influence,” it means “to cause” or “to bring about.” Thus, you can say “I want to affect (that is, influence) the outcome,” or “I want to effect (that is, cause) a change in the outcome.”
Throw into the mix the fact that both affect and effect also serve as nouns—effect being “a result” and affect being a term from psychology few people use in ordinary communications—and you can see why people get confused.
#6: You’re for your
No: Remember to defrag you’re machine on a regular basis.
Yes: Remember to defrag your machine on a regular basis.
No: Your right about the changes.
Yes: You’re right about the changes.
See #2 and #3 above, and remember, with forms of pronouns, if you have an apostrophe, it’s a contraction. PRONOUNS WITH APOSTROPHES ARE CONTRACTIONS, NOT POSSESSIVE. Yes, I am shouting.
#7: Different than for different from
No: This setup is different than the one at the main office.
Yes: This setup is different from the one at the main office.
Yes: This setup is better than the one at the main office.
Ahem. Far be it from me to disagree with Gilbert [“Oh come off it!” says the brass armadillo. “You enjoy it!”], this is one of those Rules That Do Not Exist. Different than and different from (as well as different to, if you’re British) have been standard usage since the 16th century (according to Merriam-Webster’s Concise Dictionary of English Usage). So unless your readers are likely to be pedants who jump on split infinitives and sentences ending with prepositions, don’t sweat this one.
#8 Lay for lie
No: I got dizzy and had to lay down.
Yes: I got dizzy and had to lie down.
Yes: Just lay those books over there.
According to current usage, lie is an intransitive (not intransigent) verb, and lay is a transitive verb. In layman’s language, that means that lay requires a direct object; thus, you lay something down, but you lie down.
#9: Then for than
No: The accounting department had more problems then we did.
Yes: The accounting department had more problems than we did.
Than functions as either a preposition or a conjunction when comparing things; then is (usually) an adverb indicating time. (Kind of like the where/there thing I mentioned earlier: “It happened when?” “It happened then.” Get it?)
Note: Here’s a sub-peeve. When a sentence construction begins with If, you don’t need a then. Then is implicit, so it’s superfluous and wordy:
No: If you can’t get Windows to boot, then you’ll need to call Ted.
Yes: If you can’t get Windows to boot, you’ll need to call Ted.
I don’t think this is as much a rule as it is Gilbert’s preference. I’d be leery of omitting this if I were dealing with an audience of non-native English readers; little “cue” words like then can help clarify things.
#10: Could of, would of for could have, would have
No: I could of installed that app by mistake.
Yes: I could have installed that app by mistake.
No: I would of sent you a meeting notice, but you were out of town.
Yes: I would have sent you a meeting notice, but you were out of town.
This is just sloppy speaking spilling over to sloppy writing. The preposition of makes no sense in phrases like “could of.” You can take a sentence like “I would have sent you a meeting notice,” remove the “would,” and it still makes sense: “I have sent you a meeting notice.” Try that with “I would of sent you a meeting notice” and see what you get: nonsense. Don’t do it. They can hire someone else to make your mistakes.
Corrected a couple of typos pointed out to me by Scott Meyer. Scott also had some comments about the issue of possessive pronouns, but I think that’s complicated enough to merit a post of its own.
In my article about delivering bad-news messages, I said you should “Tell the truth—as much of it, and as early, clearly, and directly as you can.” I gave that advice because it’s just the right thing to do, and also because I knew that, sooner or later, audiences usually see through attempts to obfuscate. Rosalie Maggio, author of How to Say It, put it like this:
“Listeners and readers have a good sense of when they’re hearing a load of horse pucky.”
But there are more reasons than “It’s the right thing to do,” and “People recognize bull when the see it.” Try this one: You could land yourself and your company in a costly lawsuit.
(AP) Newly unsealed court documents show Guidant Corp. drafted a letter warning doctors of a dangerous electrical malfunction in some of its devices designed to restore a normal heartbeat, but the letter was never sent. Instead, the company issued a more routine and less-targeted “product update” after learning of a short-circuiting problem that had occurred in some units of two defibrillator models—a flaw that could prevent a device from delivering a potentially lifesaving shock to the heart.
Got that? Rather than a straightforward, honest letter about some seriously bad news, they apparently tried to cover things up. And now they’re wrapped up in a government investigation and more than 100 class action lawsuits. I suppose one could say they were trying to keep people from jumping to conclusions and making hasty decisions to remove the devices, and an internal memo shows that’s what they were concerned about. But a company spokesman has also said that Guidant officials “understand and acknowledge the need for more timely and transparent communications.”
Well, since the company (now owned by Boston Scientific Corp.) is facing legal costs of up to $2 billion, you can bet they’re mourning the lost opportunity to tell the truth.