Thursday, March 26, 2015
Today we present examples of various errors that can make you sound ill-educated.
“His father was a building contractor and his mother came from France.” (Source)
Shifting grammatical person
“I’ll clue you in on a secret: death is not the worst thing that could happen to you. I know we think that; we are the first society ever to think that. It’s not worse than dishonor; it’s not worse than losing your freedom; its not worse than losing a sense of personal responsibility. (Boldface added.) (Source)
In a harassment case, Tufts University “may have made free speech history by being the first institution in the United States to find someone guilty of harassment for stating verifiable facts directed at no one in particular.” In other words, a once-venerated university publicly demonstrated that its administrative staff did not know that harass is a transitive verb, but apparently was not embarrassed by this ignorance. (Source)
The Takeaway: Whenever you are writing something for publication – even if it’s “just” a blog – present yourself as a well-educated grown-up. Have an experienced editor read your copy; that’s what well-educated grown-ups do.
Monday, March 23, 2015
In this series, “You can say a lot in only 100 words,” I’ve been showing you especially concise passages from longer works (journals, essays and books).
Today, I introduce you to (if you don’t know him already) a man who writes especially concise items all the time: Seth Godin (pictured). For example, his blog consists almost entirely of remarkably concise posts with an average length of about 130 words.
Here’s a recent post (76 words):
Like the pilot says, “sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.”
When you’re on one of those Disneyland boats, it takes you where Disney wants you to go. That’s why you got on. And so you are lulled, a spectator, merely a tourist.
So different, isn’t it, from driving yourself, choosing your own route and owning what comes of it?
How long have you been along for the ride? When is your turn to actually drive?
The Takeaway: If you are striving to make your writing more concise, you should regularly read Seth Godin’s blog to watch how he does it. I read it for that reason, even though I’ve been a professional writer for 47 years. We should never stop learning.
Thursday, March 19, 2015
In a previous post, I talked about the silly practice of adding a meaningless noun immediately after a meaningful noun. In the US, probably the most familiar example is “the boarding process.”
Yesterday afternoon I saw two examples of meaningless nouns.
The first example
The first example was on my drive home from the hospital, where I had had a test. In a rural part of my drive home, I saw a handmade sign that offered “Firewood Materials.”
In most situations like this, I would stop and take a picture of the sign and try to interview the person who created it. But I wasn’t feeling so well, having been roughly handled at the hospital. As I drove by, I wondered what the seller would have handed me if I had walked up to him and asked, “Could I look at a sample of your firewood materials?”
I imagined that he would hand me a few packets of seeds – probably sugar maple, ash, beech and oak – and maybe a gardner’s trowel so I could plant them. Then I could harvest (is that the right word?) my firewood a few decades hence.
Or maybe, if I said I was not a patient man, he would just hand me a chain saw.
When I got home, I searched the web for “firewood materials.” Among some miscellaneous junk, I saw a URL for an organization called Don’t Move Firewood, which offers Don’t Move Firewood materials, such as posters, to help prevent the spread of pests that kill timber. A worthy cause, but I don’t think that was what the seller meant.
The second example
I started to read an “After Visit Summary” that my doctor had given me. Among other things, the summary said that the doctor was going to give me my test results by phone, one week later, between 5:00 and 9:00 PM. The summary explained that the reason for calling me in the evening was to allow me to receive my results “while you are in your home environment.” (Boldface added.)
Another example of the careless addition of a meaningless noun, I thought. But wait – a medical doctor wouldn’t be careless, would he? Maybe he put the word “environment” in there for a good reason – perhaps it was an attempt to conjure up an image of comfort and safety, to put me at my ease.
Hastily, I read the rest of the summary to see if it prohibited my having a drink tonight. It didn’t, and I did.
The Takeaway: Don’t add meaningless nouns. It can make you sound careless or even phony.
Monday, March 16, 2015
Once in a while, out of curiosity, I take a hopeful glance at the web sites of institutions that may possibly be resisting, or at least avoiding, America’s decline into Dudespeak – the careless, vague, faddish, infantile diction of dudes and bimbos.
The other day, I read the web page for Harvard University’s Undergraduate Program in Applied Mathematics, a plausible place to expect serious grown-up diction.
Plausible but wrong, it turns out.
The person who wrote the page used the faddish impacts (n.) instead of effects.
He used interest (n.) and interests (n.), then apparently noticed that he had neglected to use the faddish passion, then quickly corrected this failure to conform.
At the end of the text, the writer inserted an “aw-shucks” disclaimer of elitism:
Graduates go on to careers in wide ranging fields, including business, law, medicine, academics, and well, just about anything.
I won’t bother to point out the grammar errors.
The Takeaway: If you want to be taken seriously and be perceived as a grown-up, you need to use grown-up diction. Avoid ingenuousness, coyness, silliness, faddishness and frivolousness – save them for parties.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
In previous posts (here and here) on the power of specificity, I’ve shown you samples of specificity and samples of vagueness.
Today I point you to another example of vagueness. It is a 565-word comment on an article. The article is titled “Why do expats go home? Why do they seek new overseas ‘havens’? Interviews with departing and relocating expats reveal the reasons.”
The author of the comment explains that he moved to Argentina ten years ago, that he had difficulty fitting in, and that he overcame his difficulty by making friends with some “bi-lingual and bi-cultural Argentines” who helped him understand the local culture and politics.
All well and good. The reader now expects the author to recommend that everyone expatriating to Argentina likewise find and make such friends, so as to enjoy a more serene and comfortable life there. And perhaps the author will provide a few examples of situations in which the friends and the understanding were helpful, and how.
But instead of doing those reasonable things, the author suddenly darkens the picture. He claims:
• That it is “absolutely important” that the reader understand the local culture and government;
• That “not understanding the culture, the laws, or the politics, can be an absolute disaster.”
After using such an extreme adverb (absolutely) and adjective (absolute), the author owes the reader some specificity. However, he gives none.
The reader wonders: “Is the government really that bad, or is this fellow just a blowhard? Will the cops kidnap and kill me, or just shake me down for a bribe now and then?”
Meanwhile, the author frivolously concludes his essay with this advice: “Keep your eyes and ears open.” This ancient cliche offers no specificity.
The Takeaway: If your writing is vague, you won’t make it specific just by adding absolutely, one of the most overused and abused adverbs in the English language, or other histrionic words. It will only make the reader more aware of how vague your writing is. Instead, just say what you mean, in specific, non-histrionic language. And give examples.