It’s the end of the year, of course, and therefore the ideal time for reminiscing. Punctuality Rules! has only been around since October, but, who says we can’t have a retrospective anyway, right? So, in place of our usual “Mangled Monday” feature, let’s look back over the last few months and see how much we’ve accomplished.

• We started by explaining how Punctuality Rules! got its name.
• We talked about judging things by their appearance–and how it can be a good thing.
• We started the “Mangled Monday” theme with a look at the word “it’s” in its various permutations.
• We wondered whether Punctuation could save the world.
• We looked at the old classic, Strunk and White.
• We discussed the importance of attention to detail.
• We cleared up the mystery between “lay” and “lie.”
• We expressed our disbelief at a glaring typographical error in the title of a book–on its cover.
• We affirmed that we are all travelling the road of life together.
• We examined the effect the internet is having on social interacting and manners.
• We examined when and when not to use an apostrophe.
• We talked about the importance of punctuality.
• We covered the correct way to write numbers.
• We looked at a number of commonly-confused words.
• We shared the secret of the most important thing you need to know about writing.
• We exchanged some links to other, excellent sites.
• We examined the differences between there, their, and they’re.
• We celebrated my birthday (just because).
• We talked about the importance of respect.
• We explored words that looked alike, or sounded alike, but were not alike at all.
• We discussed the correct way to denote emphasis in your writing.
• We looked at the need (and lack thereof) of abbreviations.
• We explored “connecting words” that have come up over the years to connect us to each other.
• We discussed the correct way to use contractions.
• We explored the root of holiday.
• We examined–and explored–asides.
• We nailed down how and when to use commas.
• We asked about the importance of perfection.
• We contrasted the benefits of being a dreamer against those of being a realist.
• We settled once and for all the question about starting a sentence with a conjunction. And I got to quote one of my favorite movies while doing so.
• We defined adverbs and adjectives.
• We dispelled the misty image of writing traditions.
• We discussed the Nominitive case in grammar.
• We talked about the importance of a good vocabulary, the building blocks of writing.
• We also addressed the grammatical Objective case.
• We stated quite firmly that strong writing is ideal.
• We compared the “handmade” writing style (as in, blogs) to the professional–and why professional writing is not always to be prefered.
• We listed another group of commonly-confused words. (Really, this could go on indefinitely.)
• We discussed different forms of address.

Phew! That’s actually quite a list–I’ve been busier than I thought!

Incidentally, the “we” starting each of those bullet points was a deliberate choice. Even though this blog has been entirely written by ME, there’s been a fair amount of discussion and suggestions in the comments along the way. There can never be too much conversation! (Although, if you wanted to try, by all means–the more the merrier.)

Just, don’t forget, everyone . . . tonight is “New Year’s Eve,” not “New Years Eve. (The “eve” belongs to the New Year, and so it is properly written as apostrophe-S.) No matter how you spell it, though, have a good and safe one!

There’s a line in “You’ve Got Mail,” where Meg Ryan’s character protests,

“Joe? Just call me Joe? As though you were one of those stupid 22 year old girls with no last name? Hi, I’m Kimberly. Hi, I’m Janice. Don’t they know you’re supposed to have a last name? It’s like they’re an entire generation of cocktail waitresses.”

Once you get past the mental image of all those cocktail waitresses (and waiters, let’s not forget the boys), it becomes an interesting point. In this ever-increasingly casual world of ours, how do you address people?

For people in positions of high authority–statesmen, kings, queens, religious leaders–it’s simple. You address them as formally as possible. Your Majesty. Sir. Mr. President. For most of us, though, the nitty-gritty of these titles is unlikely to come up. The President of the United States is unlikely to drop by my house for a beer, and I’m not really expecting him to invite me up to the White House any time soon. (And, really, I’d have more to talk about with the First Lady, anyway. She’s a book-lover, you know.)

For people in more accessible positions of eminence–your boss, friends of your grandfather, the the local selectman–chances are you’re going to call them by name. As in, Mr. or Mrs. so-and-so, not “John” or “Sally.” This is reasonably formal and respectful, without being too kow-towing. Formal address is not the same as brown-nosing, after all. It’s meant to be a way to show respect for a person’s age or position. Being called “Mr. Smith” instead of “Bobby” is–or used to be–a sign that little Bobby was growing up. Once he was out in the world and had a job, it was an acknowledgment that he was a contributing member of society.

It’s trickier for women, of course. The available titles differentiate between singled and married, Miss. or Mrs., which immediately makes everyone you meet take a desperate gamble at the correct terminology. Is she wearing a wedding ring? Try Mrs. Is she somewhere around 18? Miss. is probably safe. Elderly? Again, Mrs. is probably a good guess. But anywhere in between? An adult woman with no jewelry … um … Ms? That doesn’t really work, either. I appreciate what my feminist foremothers intended by it–a strong, neutral title for an adult woman, regardless of her marital status. Except … that’s exactly the problem. It was created by and for feminists, and so is colored by people’s perceptions of those man-eating, independent women. And, anyway, it never caught on the way they’d hoped–which just makes it messier. You might try Ms. as a “safe” option, only to be told indignantly that, “I’m proud to be the married mother of seven children.”

And, don’t even get me started on Ma’am, which should be useful as a respectful term for all women, but comes with nasty, getting-old connotations these days. I’m 41 years old and still cringe when someone calls me ma’am because I don’t feel old enough to be one.

Really, men? On this topic, you’ve got it soooo much easier than we women do.

I sometimes wonder if this confusion is part of the reason that so many of us these days just refer to ourselves by our first name. We might introduce ourselves by our full name (“Hi, pleased to meet you. I’m Dorothy Gale.”), but when someone then calls us “Miss. Gale,” we immediately protest, “Oh, just call me Dorothy.” It seems friendlier. Simpler. And much more casual for the days when we’re wearing jeans instead of our ruby slippers.

All of which begs the question … How do you address people? When is the last time you called someone by Mr. or Mrs? Do you feel flattered or offended when the clerk at the grocery store gives you a “Ma’am” with your change. (Male readers, feel free to ignore that last question.) Is the title respectful? Or does it make you feel old? Do you want that respectful distance, or do you just want to be one of the guys? How would you refer to the CEO of a major company who shows up unexpectedly in the lunch room and sits at your table and starts chatting about his kids?

As for me, though, you can just call me Deb. Or Miss. Puncuality Rules. Or, well, Queen of Civility, if you must, but that’s so formal, I’ll need to run to get my tiara.

Which of these words confuse you?

Bath/Bathe:

• Bath: To soak in water. (“After a long day, all I want is a nice, hot bath.”)
• Bathe: The verb used when bathing. (“The dog was so filthy, it took me an hour to bathe him.”

Discreet/Discrete:

• Discreet: Tactfully unobtrusive. (“The doctor was very discreet while passing on the news.”)
• Discrete: Separate. (“Whether to sell or to quit my job are two totally discrete issues.”)

Than/Then:

• Than: Used for a comparison. (“He’s taller than I thought he would be.”)
• Then: A reference to time. (“I’ll stop to pick up some supper, then be right over.”)

To/Too/Two:

• To: A preposition. (“Let me give my notes to you.”)
• Too: Also. (“Can I have a copy, too?”)
• Two: The number 2. (“Okay, I’ll make two copies.)

Whether/Weather:

• Whether: Used for comparison. (“I haven’t decided whether to stay or to go.”)
• Weather: Climate conditions. (“First sunny, then stormy–the weather has been so strange today!”)

As a knitter, I recently read a couple of articles about the upswing of making things by hand, and also an, um, unique competition for sock knitters, with great interest. “Handmade isn’t a fad… it’s a resurgence, one that is of a piece with the booming interest in organic food,” says the “Handmade 2.0″ article. An interesting thought, don’t you find?

“Okay,” you might be thinking, “But, Deb, what does this have to do with writing?”

Well, let me ask you a question. What are you reading right now?

A blog. Not something professional like a newspaper, book, or magazine, or even something “corporate,” like a website put up by a multi-national corporation with big bucks to spend. No, you’re reading a handmade, hand-produced article written by little, ol’ me. Nobody is paying me to write this for you, I’m doing it because I want to, for the pleasure of putting my opinions out there in the world. Except for the software that runs it, this blog is handmade. So are most of the blogs that you read. Their writers may or may not be making some money off of them, but most people are writing them for the pleasure of talking about something important to them–whether that is a hobby, current events, fashion, cooking, money-making tips, business matters. Except for “company bloggers,” most bloggers are putting their content together for the joy of the subject.

See? Hand-made.

I think this is a wonderful thing–this broadening of resources and lines of communication. The “professionals” are no longer the only ones with a public voice. Because that’s the other thing that struck me about those articles–new and personal self-expression by looking at something that may be right under your nose, and doing something different with it. Taking the passion for knitting socks (yes, really) and turning it into a cut-throat competition. Putting together magazines and websites devoted to helping people realize the joy of making something new, with their hands and their wits.

Because, well … think about that, too. Isn’t that the essence of writing just about anything? Taking your store of words and assembling them into some sequence that communicates, enlightens, informs, or entertains in a way that nobody else could duplicate. You’re spinning your words together in a totally unique way, because nobody else can think quite like you can. Which makes whatever you write handmade, and totally your own.

Now, “homespun” has the connotation of being rustic and less-than-perfect. Elegant characters in books are never described as wearing homespun clothing. A folksy person might described as talking with a homespun style. But don’t let that make you think that any “hand-made” writing you may do is less than ideal. People were keeping themselves warm and dry with homespun fabric for centuries before you could walk into a store and buy the stuff.

My feeling is that, these days, when we’re surrounded by so many commercial, mass-manufactured things, a whiff of “hand-made” is a good thing. It brings back the personal touch.

Not to mention that extra satisfaction of having created something of your own.

So, show your homespun blog entries with pride. Or your hand-made pottery, your handspun yarn. Or your own, personal angle at how to do something, learn something, teach something . . . Because, that’s the wonderful thing about making something of your very own–you’ve created something totally new and all your own.

Writing manuals talk about the importance of “strong” writing. You know, the need to avoid wishy-washy, vague, round-about sentences, but how, exactly, are you supposed to do that? And why?

The “how” is pretty straight-forward.

Use active verbs. An active verb is one that, well, describes an action. Run. Write. Vote. Drive. Weep. This is opposed to a passive verb, where the action is acted upon the subject.

You’re better off showing strength, hunger, originality, intelligence, silliness, brilliance and so on by actions, like, “Even with the waves crashing around her, her grip on the rope held firm,” This, opposed to telling, as in, “She was frightened by the waves, but the rope never left her hands.”

Do you hear the difference? The first example shows her resolve not to let go of the rope despite the waves. The fear is only implied, but can be imagined because of the crashing waves. In the second example, the sentence tells you that she’s frightened, and more than that, by saying the “rope never left,” it almost sounds as if it was the rope’s choice that she didn’t let go. It’s the same scene, but altogether, the second is a much weaker sentence.

Use adverbs as little as possible. Two reasons. One, they dilute the strength of strong verbs. “He quickly ran” is redundant because how else would he be running? If he was running flat out at full speed, maybe the verb “he sped” would be a better choice. Because, two, while an adverb+weak verb is an okay combination, it’s not as powerful as a strong verb on its own. Fled instead of ran. Spring, Lunge, or Leap instead of jump. You get the idea.

Using the verb, “to be” is passive. “He is walking” is less strong than, “He walks,” because, again, it’s a passive construction. It circles around the gist of the sentence instead of stating it outright.

Which brings us to the “Why.”

Have you ever had one of those circular conversations? “What do you want to do tonight?” “I don’t know, what do you want?” “Whatever makes you happy.” “Well, I just want you to be happy.” Nobody quite says that they want to stay home, or would like to go to the movies, or just go to bed–it’s just a lot of wasted words and wasted effort, when it would have been so much simpler just to say, “I want to sit on the couch and veg in front of the television tonight.”

Using passive verbs in a sentence is just like having a passive, “I dunno” conversation–it’s indirect and doesn’t get the job done in as efficient or elegant a fashion as just saying it would. One believes that it is in one’s best interest to be direct when one speaks. (Ahem.) In other words, say what you mean, say it clearly, and say it with as few unnecessary words as possible. Am I telling you to mimic Ernest Hemingway’s sparse style? No. Am I telling you never to use an adverb again? Of course not. They’re valuable tools.

What I am telling you is that when your fundamental writing is strong, it can support whatever you choose to build, but if your foundation is weak, your prose is going to collapse under its own dead weight.

Last week, we discussed the Nominitive case for pronouns (I, he, they, etc.), so this week, naturally, we’re going to discuss the Objective Case: me, you, him, her, us, them, it, whom.

Objective pronouns are used for direct objects of a sentence.

• Give her the key.
• Harry told them no.

Objective pronouns are used for indirect objects.

• Martha gave it a name.
• The yarn? She spun it with her spinning wheel.

Objective pronouns are used as the objects of prepositional phrases.

• Between you and me, I think it’s all nonsense.
• Who among us shall be the first to cast a stone?
• To me, vanilla has always been the best flavor.
• To whom did you wish to speak?

And again, when in doubt as to which version of pronoun you should be using when you mix it in with “groups” just say the phrase to yourself without the extra people. Should it be “Mary and me” or “Mary and I”? Just drop out the “Mary and” part and see for yourself. “It was so nice of him to give the tickets to . . . me” is correct, so you would also say, “It was so nice of him to give the tickets to Mary and me.”

To read more, please go here.

Eep! My sidebar disappeared and I have NO idea why. I’m looking, but since I know practically nothing about CSS, um, well, at least the POSTS are still showing…. Any suggestions? I swear, all I was trying to do was add the phrase “Join the discussion” next to the Comments link, but when I clicked save and took a look … poof! No more sidebar.

Hey folks–I know it has nothing to do with writing or manners or any of the things I usually talk about–but if you’re even remotely a “crafty” kind of person, would you be willing to do me a favor and come take a survey about online knitting lessons? It would be greatly appreciated. As added incentive, if you complete the survey, your name will be automatically entered in a raffle.

Click Here to take the survey

Thanks, everyone! And extra thanks if you help spread the word, too–the more responses the better!

So, what would you say was the main building block of writing?

That’s right, class. The words.

The way you put them together is of utmost importance, naturally, but ultimately, if you don’t have the vocabulary, all the technique in the world will avail you nothing. (This is one of the main reasons I disliked studying foreign languages in school. I love playing with words, but memorizing lists of them to have enough of a working vocabulary to be able to construct meaningful conversations? Hated that part. But I digress.)

The point of writing, after all, is communication, and if your words aren’t quite right, you’re not going to get your message across. The trick is knowing when and how to use the words you’ve got in your head. If you use too high-falutin’-sounding language, you sound inaccessible and stiff. (Think, for example, of the most boring text book you had to plow through in school.) That’s probably not the way to go–unless putting thousands of school-children to sleep is a goal for you. On the other hand, if you’re too casual, too familiar, too “folksy,” you can come across as if you don’t know what you’re talking about. Or, at least, as if you’re not to be taken seriously.

This is actually a subject I plan on going into in more detail at some point . . . this post is just to get you thinking about it. Because, while you should not pack your writing full of four-syllable, go-get-a-thesaurus kinds of words, you should know as many of them as possible. You never know when such a word will be precisely the word you need.

Besides, here’s the thing that many writing manuals leave out . . . Words are FUN. You may have other reasons to write–you may be writing sales copy, articles for a newspaper, blog entries, letters to friends–there are myriad reasons to pick up a pen or sit at a keyboard. But that doesn’t mean it has to be all laborious, hard work. You might not want to get drunk on your writing, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the satisfaction of tasting it when you find just the right word.

To illustrate . . . and just because the quote is pure fun . . . here’s an excerpt from A Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin

Though Mrs. Gamely was by all measures prescientific and illiterate, she did know words. Where she got them was anyone’s guess, but she certainly had them…. Mrs. Gamely’s vocabulary was enormous. She knew words no one had ever heard of, and she used words every day that had been mainly dead or sleeping for hundreds of years. Virginia checked them in the Oxford dictionary, and found that (almost without exception) Mrs. Gamely’s usage was flawlessly accurate. For instance, she spoke of certain kinds of dogs as Leviners. She called the areas near Quebec march-lands. She referred to diclesiums, liripoops, rapparees, dagswains, bronstrops, caroteels, opuntias, and soughs. She might describe something as patibulary, fremescent, pharisaic, Roxburghe, or glockamoid, and words like mormal, jeropigia, endosmic, mage, palmerin, thos, vituline, Turonian, galingale, comprodor, nox, gaskin, secotine, ogdoad, and pintuary fled from her lips in Pierian saltarellos. Their dictionary looked like a sow’s ear, because Virginia spent inordinate proportions of her days racing through it, though when Mrs. Gamely was angry a staff of ten could not have kept pace with her, and a dozen linguaphologists would have collapsed from hypercardia.

“Where did you learn all those words, Mother?” Virginia might ask.

Mrs. Gamely would shrug her shoulders. “We were raised with them, I suppose.” She didn’t always speak incomprehensibly, in fact, she sometimes went for months at a time strapped down firmly to a strong and worthy matrix of Anglo-Saxon derivatives. Then, Virginia breathed easy, and the rooster was so happy that had he been a chicken he would have laid three eggs a day. Or was he a chicken? Who knows? The point is, he thought he was a cat.

Gillian left a comment on yesterday’s post asking for help knowing when to use the nominative case in a sentence. If the jargon is already making you say, “What?” it’s knowing the difference between saying, “You and I” and “You and me.” In fact, the sentence that caught her eye yesterday was “And then there’s you and I,” which is grammatically correct, even if it sounds odd to modern ears.

The nominative case for a pronoun is the version you use when it’s the subject of a sentence or clause: I, you, he, she, we, they, it, and who.

• He stole my bike!
• We went to the city to look at the Christmas tree.
• They called and said they would be late.
• Who do you think you are?

Nominative case is also used for the “predicative nominative” when it comes after a linking verb . . . that is, when it’s the predicate of a sentence and the verb is an inactive one like “to be”.

• It is I, here to save you!
• That was he on the phone.
• What I want to know is who told you?

This is the tricky one for modern ears. If you knock on a door and somebody asks who’s there, would you ever answer, “It is I.” No, of course not, because you’d feel ridiculous, exactly because that’s what you expect the brave Prince rescuing the damsel in distress to say as he brandishes his sword. The phrase “It is I” simply isn’t meant for normal folks like you and me. You’d say “It’s me,” just like any grammatically-ignorant slob.

If someone asks for you on the phone would you say “This is she (or he)?” Probably not. I had a roommate in college whose mother had raised her to have an absolute horror of people saying, “This is her,” and she was the only person I’ve ever known to say, “This is she.” She got me out of the habit of the incorrect response, but I always felt too melodramatic using the correct version and so now just say, “Speaking.” (It’s a cop-out, I know, but grammatically-ignorant people often think you’re making fun of them when you use correct English, don’t ask me why.) Still, there’s no question that she was right, and I’m willing to bet she’s raised her two daughters to respond correctly on the phone.

Naturally, if you’re talking about more than one person, you still need to use the proper case for the pronouns. “It is Harry and I,” not “It is Harry and me.” Or, “Mom and I went to the show,” never “Mom and me went to the show.” When in doubt, mentally drop the person’s name and just use the pronoun to give your inner ear a cleaner, fair shot at hearing whether it’s correct. “I went to the show,” is obviously correct while “Me went to the show” is not.

Now, the objective case that uses the other pronouns of me, him, her, and so on? That’s coming up next week!

If you’d like more information on the Nominative case, you can look here.

I spent most of my weekend immersed in family tradition (namely, baking Christmas Stollen for my Dad), and in between shuttling cookie sheets of loaves in and out of the oven, I was thinking about tradition.

We all know about writing traditions. There are entire mythologies surrounding them. The hard-bitten news reporter with the jaunty cap and the nicotine stains on his fingers, rattling away at his trusty, manual typewriter. The solitary poet lounging at an elegant desk, sunlight streaming across the page as the pen nib flits its way from word to word as a cat purrs nearby. The starving writer in an attic garret, huddled against the cold, scratching feverishly to keep up with the inspiration welling up from his frozen toes. The best-selling author excuding charm and wit while she chats with Oprah and boosts her sales by about a million percent just by being on the show.

And then there’s you and I. Sitting in (presumably) heated or air-conditioned houses, tapping away at a keyboard in front of a glowing computer screen. There might be a cup of coffee or tea nearby. A printer to spit out drafts as needed. A pile of books or magazines for reference or inspiration. A calm, loving dog or cat curled near our toes to keep us company …

… But, also, not too far away, there are kids squabbling over the television channel. A spouse who can’t find something or needs something or broke something. A phone that keeps ringing, and an e-mail inbox that keeps chanting, “You’ve got mail.” And, oops, there go the dog and cat, madly chasing each other through the house, while dinner starts to burn on the stove. The squabble has escalated into a full-blown fight, just as your computer crashes and loses your latest draft, and the printer jams, and suddenly that freezing garret sounds appealing just because it was quiet.

Yep, there’s definitely something to be said for traditions. All of these images, though–the wispy ones based in tradition as well as the nitty-gritty real-world ones–are all about a writer writing. No matter what image pops into your head when you think “Writer,” there is ultimately one and only one thing that matters. They sat down and put words on a page.

At some point, every writer has managed to block out all the day-to-day distractions long enough to focus on a story or a lesson or a perfectly-balanced phrase that they deemed worthy to share with the world. It doesn’t matter if that was done via a published book, a magazine article, an essay in the NY Times, or a blog-entry . . . all that a writer needs to do is focus on the task at hand and write.

So, what are you sitting there, reading my blog for? Not that I don’t appreciate the attention, and you’re welcome at any time, but if you want to be a writer . . . stop wasting your time on the internet and go write!

Let’s have a brief discussion of Adjectives and Adverbs, shall we?

Adjectives, you may remember from school, are words (or phrases) that modify or describe nouns and pronouns.

• The yellow school bus
• The red apple.
• He is so tall.
• The bag was yellow.

When using two or more adjectives in a row, you should divide them by commas.

• The big, yellow school bus
• The crunchy, red apple
• He is so tall, dark, and handsome.
• The bag was yellow, singed, and full of toys.

Adverbs, on the other hand, are words that modify a verb, adjective, or other adverb–actually, pretty much anything that’s not a noun.

• The cheetah runs fast. (modifiying the verb “runs”)
• I’m very sorry. (modifying the adjective “sorry”)
• He made up his mind pretty quickly. (modifying the adverb “quickly”)

Obviously, things get more complicated than this. (I mean, really, when did the English language ever let things remain simple?) But, it’s a start!

Remember, back in school, when your teacher taught you never to start a sentence with a conjunction (and, but, or)?

You’ll be pleased to know that, while it’s true that this is something you should avoid, it’s no longer a mandatory hard-and-fast rule. The important thing is that you not do it all the time. If you use “and” or “but” too often to start your sentences, you lessen your effect … not to mention looking sloppy.

Did you see the movie Finding Forrester, with Sean Connery and Rob Brown? (I absolutely love that movie–for the bits about writing, the music, the great acting, and the inspiring story. In my opinion, at least, like Mary Poppins, it was practically perfect in every way.) Let’s let them banter this explanation this for me:

Forrester: Paragraph three starts with a conjunction, “and.” You should never start a sentence with a conjunction.

Jamal: Sure you can.

Forrester: No, it’s a firm rule.

Jamal: No, it was a firm rule. Sometimes using a conjunction at the start of a sentence makes it stand out. And that may be what the writer’s trying to do.

Forrester: And what is the risk?

Jamal: Doing it too much. It’s a distraction. And it could give your piece a run-on feeling. But for the most part, the rule on using “and” or “but” at the start of a sentence is pretty shaky. Even though it’s still taught by too many professors. Some of the best writers have ignored that rule for years, including you.

Are you a Pragmatist or a Dreamer? Do you prefer to spend your time in reality or a world all your own?

For whatever reason, this question has been on my mind a lot lately, possibly because there is such a dichotomy staring me in the face every day. Reality TV vs scripted drama. Non-fiction reading vs novels. Documentaries vs movies. Improvisational theater vs a musical show. Symphony vs opera. Rock concert vs mp3-player. Anderson Cooper vs Jon Stewart.

Obviously, all of us need to spend at least some of our time in reality–balancing checkbooks, making sure there’s food on the table, looking for cars before crossing the street. Basic, real-world activities. But, we can’t forget the non-real pleasures like losing yourself in a good novel, or the adrenalin rush of a suspense thriller (or a roller-coaster).

I know any number of people who pride themselves on being hard-core realists–they never read anything other than business sites, newspapers, or other forms of non-fiction. If they watch something on television other than the news, it’s, possibly, a sports broadcast, or the food network. Spending time on something fictional is considered unproductive. How can something “untrue” help their business? Sloppy, make-believe thinking is just a distraction, and being “creative” is a waste of time.

Needless to say, I think that’s short-sighted. How many practical, successful inventions started with a dream? “What if we didn’t have to hand-write every book, but could come up with a way to print them?” “What if there were a way to light a room with electricity?” “What if we sliced the bread before we sold it?” “What if we take that round thing and turn it into a wheel?”

If you don’t open yourself up to things that aren’t “real,” you could be missing out on a wealth of opportunities.

I’m not saying that everybody should stop writing whatever it is they write to focus on fluffy, dreamy poetry. Or that they should embrace their inner sculptor, or start meditating to find their inner artist. Oh, no. Fairy tales are (mostly) for children and the occasional recreational moment. The “real world” demands hard work, and happily ever after only happens after you’ve paid your dues and fought for it. Right?

Well, yes and no. But certainly, opening yourself up to the possibility of thinking creatively can only be a good thing. A new way to describe something without using a cliche. A new way to market your product. A new way to cook chicken for dinner. A chance to be the first on your block to have a nifty new idea that will revolutionize life as we know it.

You can’t depend that your fairy godmother is going to wave her wand and make all your dreams come true, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t leave her an opening, in case she wants to.