I’ve been racking my brain, trying to think of a punctuation mark we haven’t discussed yet. We’ve covered periods, commas, exclamation points, quotation marks, colons, semi-colons, and hyphens, not to mention parentheses, ellipses, and dashes. What else is there?

Then the light dawned. The answer was right there in front of me.

The question mark.

This one is pretty straight-forward, though. A question mark (?) is used in place of the period at the end of an interogatory sentence. In other words, at the end of a question.

Obviously, this is easy to remember, what with it being part of the name of the punction mark, after all. Some of the extra niceties:

• It should only be used after a direct question (”Are you done reading that newspaper?”), not after indirect ones (”I asked him what time the movie started.”).
• Rhetorical questions do merit a question mark. (”So, class, we can see that inventing the guillotine had a lot of unforeseen repercussions, didn’t it?”)
• A polite request–since it’s not really a question–does not merit a question mark. (”Would you please step this way.”)
• If your question ends with an abbreviation, finish the abbreviation–that is, you should use a period followed by a question mark. (”You think you’ll become a movie star just by moving to L.A.?”)
• Generally speaking, though, you should not mix question marks with other punctuation. (”He said what!?” with both an exclamation point and a question mark is incorrect. Using multiple question marks is also frowned upon.)

The primary use of a semi-colon is to link two sentences together.

Now, obviously, sentences are usually kept separate and distinct. Sometimes, however, they are very involved with each other, and like to keep close. Like twins, or mirror images, they’re more connected to each other than to the sentences next door. Usher in the semi-colon.

• My mother was a terrible cook; we ate out a lot.
• Cable television is expensive; renting movies is cheap.

It is important to remember, however, that the sentences connected by the semi-colon be complete sentences, and if you’re using a conjunction (and, but, or), you don’t need the semi-colon. Like, for example, that last sentence. I could have stopped after “complete sentences,” added a period, and then started up the next sentence with “If you’re using.” I could also have put a semi-colon there and dropped the “and.” It’s your choice. As a writer, you have options, but like at certain restaurants, no substitutions are allowed.

Semi-colons can also be used to break apart the items in a series, when a comma isn’t quite enough to do the job.

Usually, when writing a list, you use commas to keep items separate. (”My favorite ice cream flavors are vanilla, peppermint, and pistachio.”) When the items start getting more complicated, though, commas can become unclear. (”I have travelled to Boston, Massachusetts, Madison, Wisconsin, and San Franciso, California.”) This is where the semi-colon comes into its own.

• I have travelled to Boston, Massachusetts; Madison, Wisconsin; and San Francisco, California.
• My dogs’ ages are Katy, 9; Chappy, 7.

And, that’s it. Clear? Unclear? Anything I left confused? Further questions?

Have you ever given any thought to how you write the date? 365 (or 366) days, broken out into 12 months, of 28, 29, 3o, or 31 days, all sequentially counted in groups called years.

Now, the months themselves may be spelled out, so that this month is written as “June” or as its number in the monthly sequence (06). In this computer age, even four-letter months are also sometimes abbreviated by the first three characters (”JUN” or “JUL”).

Here in the U.S., we write the month first, followed by the date. (June 9), and if specifying the year, they are separated by a comma (June 9, 2008). Some other countries, though, prefer to put the day first (9 June) which conveniently makes that comma no longer necessary (9 June 2008 or even sometimes 9th June 2008). I admit that, American though I am, I often prefer to write the date that way.

Years, of course, are counted these days in what is known as the “Common Era,” formerly known as “Anno Domini.” The calendar most of us work with is the Gregorian calendar, and started with year number 1 at (supposedly) the birth of Jesus Christ. Other nations, other cultures, have their own calendars, of course, and many of them prefer not to be saddled with such a “Christian” dating system, yet with the world getting smaller and the Internet getting bigger, we needed a non-offensive alternative, and so the “A.D.” was switched to “C.E.”

We are also, of course, in the 21st century, even though our year starts with “20″ and not “21.” (The “first” century, of course, was years 1-100. The second century was 101-200, and so on. There was never a year “zero.” This is why, incidentally, that the 21st century did not start in 2000, but not until 2001, but that’s an old argument.) We had gotten into the habit for years or writing the dates just by the last two digits (”98″ for “1998″, for example) but the shock of switching into a brand new century threw us off, so that about half the time, we’re still writing the 4-digit year rather than just 2-digits, just to remind ourselves of where, exactly, we are in this space/time continuum.

Now, why bring all of this up today? Because a couple days ago, on Saturday, if you write dates as we do here in the U.S., it was June 7th, 2008 and for a brief moment, 06/07/08 9:10. How cool is that, huh?

For those of you using the British way of writing dates, though? You get another chance at it next month, on 6 July 2008.

I’ve covered many of the other punctuation marks, but not yet the Colon, otherwise known as the pair of eyes (:) in a classic emoticon smiley<:)>. Other than looking at you, though, it has other uses:

Primarily, it alerts the reader to the fact that a list or explanation is following.

• “We need from the store: milk, bread, eggs.”
• “Here is a list of primary colors: red, blue, yellow.”
• “Please choose one: paper or plastic?“
• “My greatest wish for the world: peace.”

It has other uses too, of course. It divides subtitles from main titles, “The West Wing: Season One.” It is used in telling time (1:45) or in separating chapters and verses in religious writings or epic poems (John 3:14–16). It is used after the salutation in a business letter (”Dear sir:“) It’s also used for notting ratios and such in mathematics. But, mostly, its primary use is to introduce something.

One thing that is important to note, though, is that you never put a colon after a verb. You would not write, for example, “My favorite foods are: chocolate, pie, and brussels sprouts.” The colon is redundant because it’s more or less filling the same function as the verb “are.” However, you could write, “The teacher asked me to list my favorite foods: chocolate, pie, and brussels sprouts.”

There is some debate as to whether or not use a capital letter following the colon. British English says no (unless it’s a word that would normally be capitalized), and American English seems to waffle a bit, saying it depends on context, but the general rule of thumb seems to be that if the colon is introducing an independent clause, the first word should be capitalized.

It seems like such a simple thing. When writing a basic sentence, you end it with a period (also known as a full-stop).

Obviously, when asking a question you use a question mark (?), and you follow up an exclamation with an exclamation point (!). You might be leading into a list of items and need a colon (:), or be writing dialogue that drifts off so that you need an ellipsis (…).

But, usually, almost all the time, you’re going to end your sentences with a period. That’s that little dot at the end.

I mention this because, more and more often, I see e-mails and blog posts chock-full of pretty much every other possible means of ending a sentence, with nary a period to be seen. Really, though, it’s simple. Approximately 98% of the time, you should use a period to end a sentence. Every now and again, for emphasis or as a means of signifying that you’re asking a question, you will need to use something else, but you shouldn’t let the others become a habit.

I’ll admit that I do this too often, myself. I’m far to fond of using ellipses at the ends of my sentences, especially when making suggestions in an e-mail. I like to think that it makes me seem less bossy that way, that I’m leaving the final decision up to the reader. But, really, I’m just fooling myself. I know perfectly well that what that really does is make me a sloppy writer. And that’s not usually the impression I want to make….

So, Brad was wondering what words in titles need to be capitalized.

This is actually one of the topics I keep meaning to write about, so I’m glad he asked. Here’s a quick overview for you:

• You capitalize the first and last words, all the nouns, verbs, pronouns, adjectives, adverbs, and any prepositions of 5 letters or more.

• You do NOT capitalize articles, conjunctions, or the word “to” when it’s part of an infinitive … unless they’re the first word.

Basically, what I was taught in second grade? You capitalize the “important” words–the ones that give the title substance–and leave the unimportant ones lowercase.

Some examples? Let’s see, just looking at my nearest bookcases:

• The Game of Kings
• Legacy of the Dead
• New Pathways for Sock Knitters
• Jeeves in the Morning
• Woe Is I
• Waiting for the Weekend
• The Most Beautiful House in the World
• Pride and Prejudice 

The trick, though, is that different rules apply depending on where you live and the medium which you are titling. A book in England, for example, may have different capitalization applied than a newspaper article in the United States, which may use different rules than a blog post … just about anywhere.

You can read more thorough instructions here, here, and here.

Seen in the wild:

This sign so incensed my sister, she went back and took a picture just for us. See it? It asks, “Have alot of square footage?”

This is a simple one, folks. “Alot” is not a word, unless you are referring to that little town in India.

When talking or writing about a “considerable quantity or extent,” it is correctly written as “a lot,” two words.

If you need further memory aids, as this site humorously points out, “You shouldn’t write ‘alittle’ either.” (At least, I hope he meant it humorously. I can’t say I’ve ever seen “alittle” in writing, but maybe I’ve missed something?)

Jargon is everywhere. You know–the special, “inside” language that is used by specific industries or groups of people but is completely obscure to Joe Public. (Have you ever tried to read a legal brief? Or a medical journal?) Referring to an addressed envelope as a SASE. Calling the newsperson in front of the camera the Talent. Saying a project given a go-ahead is Green-Lighted. Calling a piece of undeliverable mail a Nixie.

The thing you need to be aware of is that jargon, by its very nature, puts a wall between you and everybody else. You might know exactly what you mean when you say your company was “down-sized,” but will everybody? Are you deliberately using it to obfuscate your meaning? Or, is your meaning confusing because you assume that everyone you’re talking to will be familiar with the jargon? If you’re trying to be obscure, or if you’re gearing your writing to a very specific set of people who have their own, very specific way of speaking (lawyers, computer geeks, photographers, rap stars), jargon may be fine.

But be wary. If you aren’t careful, your use of jargon could impede the transference of data segments to the mental computational devices of the written-word scanner.

(In other words, jargon may interfere with your information getting into your reader’s brain.)

Since I’m travelling today, I thought I’d address some of those travel-related words that can get confusing. So please, make sure your safety belts are securely fastened and that your hands are safely on your keyboards, and let’s begin!

• Plane vs Plain:
  • Plane, of course, is short for “Airplane” and describes those nifty machines that fly through the air (when the airlines let them).
  • Plain describes a flat geographic area, often monotonous, like most of the center of the United States.
• Train:
  • One word with two meanings.
  • (1) Train (n): The first describes that locomotive that travels on prelaid tracks and used to go choo-choo in the old days when it ran on steam.
  • (2)Train (v): The second meaning describes what you need to do to get the tallest, strongest person of your travelling party to automatically pick up the heaviest pieces of luggage without your needing to nag.
• Board vs Bored:
  • Board is what you do when you’re finally allowed onto a plane, train, or bus after hours in the terminal.
  • Bored is the emotion you feel while waiting to do so.

• Sail vs Sale:
  • Sail is what you do on one of those pretty boats with the pieces of cloth filling with wind. (I’m told by people who know more about the water than I that a motor-powered boat such as a ferry or a cruise ship does not officially count as “sailing.”)
  • Sale is what you look for while on vacation so that you don’t spend too much of your hard-earned money on cheesy knick-knacks and t-shirts. (Buying them is one thing, but spending full-price? Tsk.)
• Inn vs In:
  • Inn is a quaint name for a hotel, or bed-and-breakfast, or whatever type of lodging you prefer. They can be large, modern hotels (like Hampton Inn), or they can be charming little Victorian houses that have been converted to money-making opportunities by idealists with a flair for doilies. Or, really, anything in between–if they take money and let you sleep there, they can basically call themselves an inn.
  • In is what you need to be to get a reservation at the trendiest restaurants, get into the coolest clubs, or just INto the swimming pool at your inn.
• Wine vs Whine:
  • Wine: Visiting wineries while you travel can be a pleasant way to spend a few hours (and even more money), because once you’ve tried the wine-tasting at the end, your resistance to the sales pitch will be low. And, really, what could be a better travel souvenir than a delicate bottle filled with a liquid that does not travel well?
  • Whine: The high-pitched, annoying sound often eminating from the back seat of the family car on long drives. “Are we there yet?” “He’s touching me!” “She’s on my side!” “I have to go to the bathroom!” Whines may also be heard from adults by the end of a long day of shouting, “Don’t make me turn this car around!”
• Tour vs Tourist:
  • Tour is what you do when you visit a new place or a museum. Usually headed up by a tour-guide to point out interesting features and to warn you about keeping your hands and feet inside the vehicle. Depending on the location, the guide, the scenery, the weather, and the script, these can be either a fabulous and informative use of a few hours or one of the deadliest, most boring places to be trapped on your precious vacation.
  • Tourists, on the other hand, used to be just people who were on tours, but have since transformed into obnoxious strangers, often with funny accents, who carry cameras everywhere (even though they don’t have blogs), and block traffic while standing in the middle of the street with a map trying to figure out where they are.
  • In other words, going on tours is okay, but being a tourist is dreadful.
• Holiday:
  • Another one of those confusing words with more than one meaning.
  • (1) To a British person, “Holiday” means the actual trip–getting on that plane, lying on that beach, touring that museum. Holidays are something they “go on.”
  • (2) To Americans, “Holiday” is the word for time off from work. Fourth of July (sorry, Brits) is a holiday. Christmas is a holiday. A long weekend can be a holiday. But the trip you stood for four hours in the airport to take? That’s a “Vacation.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little tour of some of the more confusing, travel-related words in the English language. All gratuities can be left in the tip-jar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go load the car with luggage, catch a ferry, and spend the next 6 hours or so after that driving home along I-95 with my Mom and my tends-to-get-carsick dog. That rush-hour and Tappan Zee Bridge part is going to be FUN.

Can you think of anything I missed? Come on, chime in, folks!

I am.

Simple, isn’t it? Serenely self-confident and self-contained, it embodies a simple statement of fact, unburdened by any distractions.

No, no. I’m not talking about the philosophical statement (though, that’s true, too). I’m talking about the sentence, because it simply doesn’t get any more, well, simple than that.

A noun: I

A verb: am

Punctuation to finish the thought: Period.

That, my friends, is all you need for a sentence.

Of course, you can add more stuff to it–that’s what makes things interesting. You can make bread with nothing but water and flour if you truly need to, but it’s a lot tastier if you add things like yeast, salt, butter, eggs, fruit, spices, nuts… you get the idea. But, the essentials must be there. A combination of butter, eggs, and salt may make a tasty omelet, but it is NOT bread. Likewise, a combination of adjectives, verbs, and prepositions does not make a sentence.

Every, single sentence, in order to be a sentence, must have a noun and a verb, and it must complete a thought.

Wait, I hear you saying, what about something like “Stop!” or “Shoot!” Aren’t they sentences? Well, yes, they are, but the noun is understood to be “You,” as in, “You wait.” They are technically commands, declarative sentences, and for those, brevity is key, but since they are directed AT somebody, the noun is understood to be there.

And, obviously, there’s more to be said about sentences. (How many two-word sentences do you come across on a daily basis?) It’s always good to start with the basics, though.  You understand.