I’ve talked about the importance of grammar and punctuation here, and believe me, I think they’re important, but they’re not the most important thing you need to know about writing.

It’s all about YOU.

A lot of people giving writing advice will tell you that you should think about your reader, focus on what that person wants to read. However, while they may be important, here’s the key thing: Nobody can write like you can.

You can ask 100 different people to write about a specific tree, and each one will focus on a different thing. One person will write about the willowy height of it. One will write about the colors of the leaves. One will discuss the way the wind sounds as it blows through the leaves. Someone will focus on the bird’s nest in the branches. You’ll hear about how there are other trees nearby so this one won’t feel lonely, the magic of such a thing coming from a tiny acorn . . . all that.

Every person will see that tree through their own, personal filter. This filter is colored by their personality, their life experiences, and their expectations, because all of these things affect their world-view. That is, an optimist might describe an accident by saying, “They really didn’t mean to go through that red light,” while a more pessimistic person might say, “They didn’t even care that light was red, they just flew right through it!”

Nobody else has the same filter you have. Your point of view is totally unique. The way you view the world is unlike the way I do. We see different details; we think differently. Our way of using language to describe things is also different. I couldn’t write like you any more than you can write like I do. (How many people have tried to write like William Shakespeare and failed miserably?)

The tools of writing are the same for all of us, and some people are better at using them than others. (I like to view the people who play fast and loose with their punctuation as the type who are forever dropping their hammers on their toes–they’ll get the job done but it’s a lot more painful than it needs to be.) Ultimately, though, when you set pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, all you can do is to write as yourself. You should never try to imitate other authors, nor sound overly professional and businesslike, nor agonize over points of grammar. You should endeavor to sound like you. Nobody else on the planet can do that.

It doesn’t matter if you’re seeing the world through rose-colored glasses or through bi-focals. Your own life experience is totally unique and solely your own. If you write from your heart about what you know to be true, there isn’t anyone who can quite duplicate that. There will always be people who are better–better descriptions, better sales pitches, better dialogue, better punctuation–but they’ll never be you. Embrace that. Find your voice. And write.

Which of these words confuse you?

Assure/Insure/Ensure:

• Assure: To inform or tell positively. (”There, there, everything will turn out all right in the end, I assure you.”)
• Insure: To take out a policy to guarantee from loss or harm. (”Congratulations, your car is now insured against accidents, just sign here.”)
• Ensure: To secure or guarantee. (”Renew now to ensure that you don’t miss an issue!”)

Affect/Effect:

• Affect: To act on, change. (”How will global warming affect our weather?”)
• Effect: The result of a change. (”The effect will be warmer winters, more rain, and harsher storms.”)

Cite/Sight/Site:

• Cite: To quote or identify a source. (”In his report, he cited the New York Times as one of his sources.”)
• Sight: Vision. (”It’s a miracle! These eyedrops helped him regain his sight!”)
• Site: A location. (”Come visit my cool new site on the web.”)

Lose/Loose:

• Lose: To misplace something. (”Darn, I always lose my keys when I’m in a rush.”)
• Loose: Free from restraint. (”Drat, and now the dog is loose, too!”)

(Believe me, there are plenty more where these come from…. Inspired by Laura’s request.)

I’m more a word-person than a number-person, but there are a couple little rules to remember:

• A percentage is written in hundredths. That is, .25 is the same as 25%.
• This means that you should never write .25% unless you actually mean to describe .0025 (which is really very, very small).

• You write a dollar amount as, say, $25.95. That’s twenty-five dollars and ninety-five cents.
• If you just want to talk about the cents, you can either give your $.02, or your 2-cents, but if you ever actually write $.02-cents, you’re actually describing .0002 dollars. (The dollar may be struggling these days, but it’s not quite that bad yet.)

• Additionally, for the record, when saying a number aloud, you should only use the word “and” at the decimal between whole numbers and the fraction. That is, $9.95 is nine dollars and ninety-five cents.
• If you put an “and” anywhere else, like “two thousand, seven hundred and thirty seven,” it sounds as if you’re saying the number 2700.37, not 2,737.

• Lastly, next time you’re writing a check, take a closer look at the line where you spell out the dollar amount. Standard checks (here in the U.S., at least) have the word “Dollars” printed at the end of the line. This means that you do NOT have to write the word “dollars” yourself. All you need to spell out is the actual, numeric amount, like, “One hundred ninety-nine and 99/100.”
• And, of course, never write “One hundred ninety-nine and 99 cents” because, technically, what you’re then describing is $.19999, which is not even two dimes’ worth of cash.

Since this blog is called “Punctuality Rules!,” let’s talk about punctuality, shall we? To quote myself, “Punctuality is not just about making meetings on time, but about being exact. It’s about doing what needs to be done at exactly the time it should be done. To me, that’s an issue that transcends mere punctuation.” This is true, but punctuality is primarily about being on time. This is important for so many reasons, but the main one, to me, is about respect. When you make an appointment with someone–a doctor, a hair-stylist, a friend, a date–it’s a social contract, an agreement to be at the same place at the same time. There’s a reasonable amount of leeway built in to this agreement. A few minutes for bad traffic, a sick child, a broken heel on your shoe is understandable. Life happens. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t had to wait for somebody at some point in their life.

However, there are people who are chronically late. Always. My best friend in high school was regularly 10 minutes late whenever we’d get together. I learned to adapt, even if that meant I spent a lot of time hanging out in her hallway while she ran around after her coat, her gloves, her bookbag. It was marginally inconvenient, but more like a personal quirk. But then there are the people who are unreasonably late. One of my father’s friends when he was in high school was so constantly late that when his group of buddies would make plans, they would automatically tell him to meet them an hour earlier than the actual time. Even worse, a relative of my brother-in-law is regularly hours late to any family event. For a recent family party that started at 12:00 noon, she showed up around 7:00. Seven hours late, with no apology whatsoever, even though she arrived just in time to interfere with the hostess trying to get her 8-month old baby down for a much-needed nap.

I really can’t help but wonder how this ever became acceptable behavior. In fact, I don’t think that it is acceptable. A few minutes? I can make allowances–especially if young children are involved–but anything more than, say, 15 minutes requires explanation. First, there should absolutely be a phone call to say, “I’m running late but I’m on my way.” This is mandatory. It’s not nice to leave the people you’re meeting worrying that you’ve been run over by a bus–whether it’s a business meeting or a social event, that’s just not cool.

More than that, though, the people who are chronically late . . . the ones you can rely on to show up well behind everybody else . . . to my mind, they are nothing but selfish. Don’t they realize that everybody has a schedule? Everybody has things to juggle, obligations to meet, but as I said earlier, an appointment is its own obligation. If you’ve made a committment to show up, you show up. Period. Unless there’s an emergency, in which case, again, you call. It’s not like it’s impossible to find a phone these days. There’s probably one in your pocket right now.

If it’s a business appointment, arriving late is unprofessional and it’s going to reflect badly on you for having kept your compatriot waiting–as if their time is worth less than yours. Which, let’s face it, unless you’re Donald Trump, is not the case. If it’s a social engagement, showing up late just implies that you don’t care enough about the other person to bother. Which probably isn’t the case, either, or why would you bother to agree to meet in the first place?

Like I said, it’s a matter of respect. A little decency. An acknowledgment that the world doesn’t revolve around any one person’s schedule. Unless you’re the King or Queen. If you’re wearing a crown, I suppose I’m willing to make allowances. After all, travelling with an entourage can be time-consuming. For the rest of us, though? You learned to tell time in kindergarten, right? There was a reason for that.

Today’s installment of Mangled Monday: A minor rant on the topic of “When Did Apostrophes Become the Sign of All Things Plural?”

Apostrophes are just wonderful punctuation marks. They truly are. In her “Eats, Shoots, and Leaves,” Lynne Truss refers to the apostrophe as the “frantically multi-tasking female, dotting hither and yon,” because it’s so versatile. Lately, though, people seem confused and–what with the apostrophe being so helpful–are drafting it to do all sorts of things it’s not qualified to do, or misusing it for jobs it does do.

Let’s review, shall we?

Stunt-Doubles

Apostrophes stand in for other letters and numbers.

• When writing contractions (Don’t! Won’t! Can’t!)
• When writing years (’07)
• When writing dialect (I told ‘im not to do it).

Non-Horror-Style Possession

They show possession. This rule of thumb is fairly straight-forward.

• If the noun is singular, you use apostrophe-S. (My 30-year old television’s antenna finally broke.)
• If the noun is plural, you use S-apostrophe (My monkeys’ uncle just stole all of their bananas.)
• If the singular noun already ends in an “s” the apostrophe alone is usually sufficient. (Jess’ motorcycle.)

Plurals (but only on very rare occasions)

This seems to be the one that gets most people into trouble. As a rule, you do not need apostrophes to indicate the plural of anything.

There is just one exception.

• They mark the plurals of letters and of words. (Too few o’s in to. Are there too many the’s in that paragraph?)

Other than that, though? No. Books. Beans. Words. Dogs. Lightbulbs. Notebooks. Cars. Drawers. All of these words are effortlessly made plural by the simple addition of the letter “s.” No extra flourishes required. This one drives me absolutely bonkers. If you want a plural, just add an “s.” Nothing else. Give the poor apostrophe a break. It’s already working hard enough.

I just spent the weekend immersed in the world of knit-bloggers at the NY Sheep and Wool Festival in Rhinebeck, NY. One of the highlights–other than access to a whole lot of beautiful yarn and spinning fibers–was meeting the other bloggers. Like any community, many of us read one another’s blogs, exchange e-mails, and were anxious to see each other face to face, and, as always at events like these, it was the socializing that made it so much fun.

One of the unique features, though . . . and, I promise that I’m getting this post on-topic . . . is an invention called “Blogger Bingo.” There were actual bingo cards made up of the names of bloggers wanting to be target “squares,” and throughout the day, people ran around, approaching complete strangers, asking, “You’re a square? Who are you? Are you on my card?” Mind you, the “squares” were all volunteers and every “square” was required to wear something that announced that fact, so innocent bystanders were left unaccosted, and the “approaching strangers” part wasn’t quite so rude as it sounds. It was, in fact, a huge amount of fun.

But it got me thinking. I happily participated in Blogger Bingo and thoroughly enjoyed the giddy buzz it generated around the fairgrounds, but could this sort of thing possibly have happened at any other time in history? Bloggers–no matter what the topic–are a geographically far-flung group. Not all blogs are part of a true “community,” of course. Some people just blog quietly about family events in their own little corner of the internet; some are blogging in niches that are too impersonal or too competitive to be able to build a communal sense of anything. Even when they can be considered a community, though–like knit-bloggers–they are an unusual one because, even with regular e-mails and the occasional in-person meeting, as a rule, bloggers don’t usually SEE each other.

So, it’s certainly unique (to say the least) to be able to pull a group of dozens of people who only “know” each other via the internet and let them loose in a crowd of hundreds and expect them to find each other. Then, when they do, naturally, different rules have to apply for them to be able to interact. If you know someone by exchanging e-mails and blog-comments, does that make it more or less awkward when you meet in person? Do you immediately act as if the person is a true, real friend and greet them with a hug or a warm handshake? Or do you hang back and stick to the more formal, “Nice to meet you” manners you use with a new acquaintance? Has there ever been a time where this could even happen? There have always been conventions and symposiums where people with similar interests have congregrated, and certainly friendships would be struck up and renewed over time, but blogging–and the internet in general–is such a unique medium in the way it combines real life with electronic forms of closeness.

And then, I like to talk about “Civilization” and how manners and good grammar are things that we should all pay a little more attention to, and then something like this happens. I’ve heard that there are “old-timers” at this festival who hate the bloggers that come because they’re (supposedly) rowdy and pushy and rude. They’d like it to go back to the older, quieter days when knitters were more . . . well, sane . . . despite the fact that the bloggers and their friends are spending lots of money and have made this festival immensely more profitable. So, is this giddy craziness a step forward? Or backward? A sign of encroaching selfish behavior, with the bloggers not caring whose booth they block while they squeal with delight? A symbol of the growing laxity in anything overly formal (like, say, spelling conventions)? Or is the sense of community more important? It’s hard to see such happy enthusiasm as a bad thing, but what if it is?

And, if it is a bad sign of encroaching selfishness, what does it say about me when I enjoyed it so much? Darn, I hate being a hypocrite…. (grin)

I have a book called Civility: Manners, Morals, and the Etiquette of Democracy by Stephen L. Carter. It talks about the collapse of basic manners, how they have “become a casualty of our postmodern culture.” You already know that this is one of my favorite themes, and, in fact, I recommend this book quite a bit.

He opens the book with an analogy which has become a favorite of mine. About how, in the 19th century, people travelled in groups because only the very rich could afford to travel alone. He says,

“Well, of course: to travel so far together, packed shoulder to shoulder like chess pieces in their little box, everybody had to behave or the ride would become intolerable. Everyone followed the rules for the sake of their fellow passengers, and they did so, as one historian has noted, out of a spirit of self-denial and the self-sacrifice of one’s own comfort for another’s.”

There was, you understand, a sense of “we’re all in this together.” Everybody was crowded, everybody had to endure the same discomforts of travel, but everybody collectively gritted their teeth because that was the only way it was bearable, by working together to keep it as civilized as possible. He goes on to say,

“But nowadays we have automobiles, and we travel both long and short distances surrounded by metal and glass and the illusion that we are travelling alone. The illusion has seeped into every crevice of our public and private lives, persuading us that sacrifices are no longer necessary. If railroad passengers a century ago knew the journey would be impossible unless they considered the comfort of others more important than their own, our spreading illusion has taken us in the other direction. We care less and less about our fellow citizens, because we no longer see them as our fellow passengers. We see them as obstacles or competitors, or we may not see them at all.”

This is such a brilliant observation, don’t you think? How often have you walked down the street and seen other people listening to iPods, talking on cellphones, completely caught up in their own, private worlds? I often count myself lucky if they’re paying enough attention not to walk into me as they wander along. People go shopping in their pajamas; they think nothing of cutting in line. They meander across parking lots, never glancing over their shoulders to see if there’s a car coming. Because, of course, the world revolves around them. Not only are they not travelling with the rest of us, they’re riding a float in their own little parade, condescendingly waving to the crowd.

Not everyone does this, naturally. (I’m sure you don’t.) Most of the people I know have, at some time or another, shaken their heads when witnessing behaviors such as these, just because they’re not normal behaviors. In fact, many people do check for cars before stepping into a roadway, or thoughtfully hold doors for other people. It’s just the fact that these annoying, selfish behaviors seem to become more common all the time that’s so worrying.

Because, really, we ARE all travelling through this life together. Don’t we owe it to our fellow passengers to make the ride as easy as possible?

Dear Bloomsbury USA,

I’m just writing to tell you how disappointed I am in your copyediting and cover-design departments. I picked up a copy of your “How I Learned to Cook” by Kimberly Witherspoon and Peter Meehan at the bookstore the other day. The book itself looks interesting, though I haven’t had a chance to read it yet.

However, the title on the spine? The word “learned” is misspelled as L-E-A-N-R-E-D.

Now, the occasional typographical error can slip past the best editors on occasion. This is understood. But in the actual title of the book on the COVER?

So, so sad.

Yours,

Deb Boyken

Edited to add, in case you didn’t see the comment below, here’s the response I got:

Deb, you are right, it was a grievous error that we all regret. We have replaced every copy that any bookseller decided to return, and have corrected the mistake on future reprints.

To err is human….

Annik La Farge
Publishing Director, Bloomsbury USA

Today’s installment of Mangled Monday: The words lie and lay: how to tell them apart, and when (not) to use them.

Frankly–and I hope you won’t think less of me for admitting this–this pair of words is one that I always have trouble telling apart. So, let’s recap for the benefit of us all, shall we?

“Lay” is a transitive verb, which means that it acts on something else, and means “to put something down.” So, you can lay down a fork, or you can lay down the law, but you cannot simply lay down.

“Lie” is an intransitive verb, so it doesn’t need an object of any kind, and means “to recline or be placed.” So, when you’re tired, you lie down.

So far, so good, right? That’s not really all that confusing. At bedtime, you lay the baby down in his or her crib and then go lie down in your own bed.

It’s afterward that it becomes confusing, because while the past tense of “lay” is “laid,” the past tense of “lie” is “lay.” This means that when you’ve had a sleepless night trying to keep this all straight, what you did was “lay awake” while tossing and turning.

(Should we even get into the past participles of lie/lain and lay/laid? No? Okay.)

Now, I don’t know about you, but my head is spinning. I’m going to lay down my mouse and go lie down for a while….

So, continuing our discussion about the importance of appearance as well as substance, and the hope that we’re not going to let several millennia of civilization collapse in a text-messaging, pictogram-riddled heap at our feet, let’s talk about details, shall we?

It is sadly clear that there are a number of people out there who do not care in the least whether they write, spell, or speak correctly. These poor misguided souls have no idea that they’re lacking an important human imperative (to communicate clearly), having managed to ignore grammar-teaching school teachers for years, and are quite happy to live in ignorant bliss. There’s really nothing I could say to change their minds (even assuming they were reading this at all).

For the rest of us, though, forwarding Civilization through the cause of good grammar and basic manners is all about the details. I don’t (only) mean the details about knowing when to use a comma, or when it’s polite to give up your seat on the bus. Details such as these are important, yes, to live in a well-oiled, free-flowing society. It’s always nice to have something done correctly.

The details I mean, though, are the deeper ones, not just the superficial ones. Not just the rules themselves, but the “Why” behind the rules . . . or rather, why they are important. The e-mail-fostered laziness behind some lagging spelling standards does not, in itself, mean that Western Civilization is collapsing, but if we don’t stop to examine why it’s a troubling sign we’re all in trouble.

I am not the only person who feels like they’re shouting in the wind about “Correct grammar can save you!” I certainly don’t want to sound like a stodgy, old mothballed coot, either, yammering about the “good old days.” But the point isn’t that the “old days” were better. I’m not recommending going backward to the mythical, polite days of yore when everybody’s handwriting was legible, I just want to make sure that the future is healthy.

So, an analogy: Don’t think of me as a pundit talking about grammar. Think of me as your doctor, urging you to exercise and eat right, not to mention flossing after meals. When you’re young, you shrug it off, yeah, yeah, some day. But one day you’re struck with aches and pains and tooth decay and you shrug that off, too. Just the price of getting older, take a little aspirin, whatever. But then, suddenly, it’s diabetes, and heart disease. Lung cancer from all those smoky nights with friends. Things that are bad and scary and serious . . . and that could have been prevented.

My urging people to pay closer attention to the way they express themselves, the way they communicate with each other? That’s like telling you to take a multi-vitamin and the occasional stroll around the block. It might not save your life, but it might just make enough of a difference to your health that you can avoid that grammatical heart attack later on, you know, when nobody knows the correct spelling of “through.”