If you think email has made communication easier, think again. I’m focusing primarily on email because it is overwhelmingly the way we communicate at work, but much of what you’ll find here are simply suggestions for maintaining good communications. And I’m not just talking about written communication-- email has also taken over for much of the conversation that we used to do in person and on the phone. Think about it, how often do you send email to the person sitting at the desk next to you rather than just getting up and going to talk to them? And much of what I have to say about email can also be applied to other forms of written communication. Unfortunately, the problem of short attention spans, the expectation of an immediate response and generally poor communication skills apply to all of our writing these days.
As much as we’d like to blame the format of email itself for all of our communication problems, much of the time we have nothing to blame but ourselves. Even though it has probably never been harder to get and keep someone’s attention, there are also a lot of things we do all the time that make people stop reading what we have to say and effectively shut down our communications. This is what happens when you send someone one of those long messages that they have to wade through to find your point. Or when they can’t figure out how your email is relevant to them in the first place. It happens when you send them a message that’s full of typos and makes them feel like you didn’t take the time to proofread it. If the message wasn’t important enough for you to run spellcheck on it, they may (rightly) think, why should they take the time to read it? They’re likely to stop reading if you haven’t made yourself clear and they find themselves struggling to make sense out of what you have to say. Why should they have to do all the work? But the very worst thing you can do is send them something that makes them angry, whether you’ve done it intentionally or not. If you make someone angry you run the risk of shutting down not only your current communication, but any future contact as well. Because when you make your reader angry they aren’t exactly going to be receptive to anything you send them in the future, either. So much for that relationship.
That’s the focus here, helping you to make sure that people pay attention to what you have to say, that you don’t sabotage yourself and make them stop reading. While learning the rules of grammar and punctuation are important in helping you write clearly and professionally, they only occupy one section of my tips here. My broader goal is to help you overcome the modern obstacles that make written communication more and more difficult. It’s to help you write persuasively and in a manner that will give you credibility at work and anywhere else writing is important. It’s to ensure that people pay attention to what you have to say and that you are able to share the information that is vital to your work. It’s to make sure that you don’t go around pissing people off unintentionally. If pissing people off is your goal, that’s another thing entirely. Still, there are some good examples of ways to do that later in the book. Keep reading!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Is Anybody Out There?
Never mind what the perfectionists and amateur English teachers would have you believe; grammar and punctuation aren’t even close to being the biggest problems in writing today. I have no doubt that the number one problem people have with their writing is simply getting someone else to read it. I’m not talking about selling that novel you’ve been working on since college. I mean just getting your coworkers to take the time to read the business email you send them at work. The speed and ubiquity of communications today have made it extremely difficult to get and keep anyone’s attention.
Part of my job as a training manager is to send out announcements about upcoming training. Some of it is for routine stuff, like the 300th Excel class we’ve offered for the year, but some of it is considerably more important and has a direct impact on the way we practice law. We recently rolled out a metadata scrubber, for example, that is designed to help protect us from unwittingly sending out sensitive information that can be concealed within the documents we create for clients and share with opposing counsel. Ultimately, we bought it to help avoid being sued. So when it came time to roll it out to our users we sent our typical training notice, but we also sent out other information that included references to articles about the dangers of metadata and stories from The Wall Street Journal about how other firms had gotten into trouble by sharing hidden metadata. This was important stuff. It seemed to me that this was exactly the sort of topic attorneys should be interested in and that we were doing a great job of promoting the training. But out of approximately 150 attorneys in our San Francisco office, we had exactly one show up. Pretty sad, but typical.
Another frustrating problem that I often encounter is that we send out announcements that we will be rolling out a new product, conduct the training for the few people who manage to make it, and then I start to hear complaints once people notice the new application on their computers. “What is this thing?” they demand. “Why weren’t we offered training!” (There’s often a “hell”, “damned” or worse thrown in there somewhere). One of the nice/scary things about email is that it keeps track of everything you do. So I can go into my Sent Items while I still have the caller on the phone and pull up the training announcement that we sent to all of our users. “The first training announcement went out on November 2nd, and there were two more after that,” I can tell them. “Would you like me to forward you a copy?” When I can tell them the date we sent it, they don’t usually ask for a copy. What usually does happen after that causes me endless despair.
“Oh, I don’t read email that comes from you,” they’ll say. Sometimes they substitute “trainers” or “IT” for “you.” This really doesn’t make me feel any better.
But it’s hard to blame people. We all get so much stuff to wade through that it can be overwhelming. It’s no secret that many of us receive hundreds of emails a day, and it piles up at an alarming rate. Go on vacation for a couple of weeks and you’re done for. I’ve seen Outlook inboxes with more than 30,000 items in them. Some of it-- the Nigerian scams, the email generated by viruses, the come-ons for various physical enhancements-- is clearly junk and can be deleted right away. Unless you’re like me and are entertained by these things. (If you’re not, find a good spam blocker. They can save you a huge amount of time managing your email.) Other messages are basically junk that we’ve asked for-- ads from online retailers where we’ve ordered things in the past, word-of-the-day emails, news summaries from The New York Times-- that can be dealt with (or not) when we have time. Then there are the administrative messages that contain information that might actually be important, but that we habitually ignore: the notices from HR about our benefits, the emails about what support services will be available on weekends and holidays, those pesky emails from the training department. They might all be useful, but the sheer bulk of the messages that we receive makes it difficult to pay attention to any of them. Where I work there is a large group of people who get what we call “staffing notices.” A staffing notice is generated whenever someone leaves or joins the firm, changes their title or their name, even when they switch desks. If you follow the staffing notices closely you can learn a lot: who has gotten married (or divorced), who finally made good on their threats to quit, who has been promoted. But the volume of them-- dozens a day-- means that very few people pay attention to them. When I was teaching classes on email etiquette, the staffing notices were specifically mentioned as “spam” more than any other kind of email.
Even if you get your readers to notice your email, they aren’t necessarily going to read the whole thing. When I talk to groups of people and ask them to name the single most annoying thing about email, what they talk about most often is that email is too long. It turns out that most people don’t want to receive email that looks like a letter, memo, or report. What they want is “just the facts.” The general consensus that I’ve seen is that anything more than three sentences is too long. I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but that’s probably the way most of your readers feel, too. Unfortunately, many of them will react to your message based entirely on its subject line and won’t ever read the body of its text at all.
Part of my job as a training manager is to send out announcements about upcoming training. Some of it is for routine stuff, like the 300th Excel class we’ve offered for the year, but some of it is considerably more important and has a direct impact on the way we practice law. We recently rolled out a metadata scrubber, for example, that is designed to help protect us from unwittingly sending out sensitive information that can be concealed within the documents we create for clients and share with opposing counsel. Ultimately, we bought it to help avoid being sued. So when it came time to roll it out to our users we sent our typical training notice, but we also sent out other information that included references to articles about the dangers of metadata and stories from The Wall Street Journal about how other firms had gotten into trouble by sharing hidden metadata. This was important stuff. It seemed to me that this was exactly the sort of topic attorneys should be interested in and that we were doing a great job of promoting the training. But out of approximately 150 attorneys in our San Francisco office, we had exactly one show up. Pretty sad, but typical.
Another frustrating problem that I often encounter is that we send out announcements that we will be rolling out a new product, conduct the training for the few people who manage to make it, and then I start to hear complaints once people notice the new application on their computers. “What is this thing?” they demand. “Why weren’t we offered training!” (There’s often a “hell”, “damned” or worse thrown in there somewhere). One of the nice/scary things about email is that it keeps track of everything you do. So I can go into my Sent Items while I still have the caller on the phone and pull up the training announcement that we sent to all of our users. “The first training announcement went out on November 2nd, and there were two more after that,” I can tell them. “Would you like me to forward you a copy?” When I can tell them the date we sent it, they don’t usually ask for a copy. What usually does happen after that causes me endless despair.
“Oh, I don’t read email that comes from you,” they’ll say. Sometimes they substitute “trainers” or “IT” for “you.” This really doesn’t make me feel any better.
But it’s hard to blame people. We all get so much stuff to wade through that it can be overwhelming. It’s no secret that many of us receive hundreds of emails a day, and it piles up at an alarming rate. Go on vacation for a couple of weeks and you’re done for. I’ve seen Outlook inboxes with more than 30,000 items in them. Some of it-- the Nigerian scams, the email generated by viruses, the come-ons for various physical enhancements-- is clearly junk and can be deleted right away. Unless you’re like me and are entertained by these things. (If you’re not, find a good spam blocker. They can save you a huge amount of time managing your email.) Other messages are basically junk that we’ve asked for-- ads from online retailers where we’ve ordered things in the past, word-of-the-day emails, news summaries from The New York Times-- that can be dealt with (or not) when we have time. Then there are the administrative messages that contain information that might actually be important, but that we habitually ignore: the notices from HR about our benefits, the emails about what support services will be available on weekends and holidays, those pesky emails from the training department. They might all be useful, but the sheer bulk of the messages that we receive makes it difficult to pay attention to any of them. Where I work there is a large group of people who get what we call “staffing notices.” A staffing notice is generated whenever someone leaves or joins the firm, changes their title or their name, even when they switch desks. If you follow the staffing notices closely you can learn a lot: who has gotten married (or divorced), who finally made good on their threats to quit, who has been promoted. But the volume of them-- dozens a day-- means that very few people pay attention to them. When I was teaching classes on email etiquette, the staffing notices were specifically mentioned as “spam” more than any other kind of email.
Even if you get your readers to notice your email, they aren’t necessarily going to read the whole thing. When I talk to groups of people and ask them to name the single most annoying thing about email, what they talk about most often is that email is too long. It turns out that most people don’t want to receive email that looks like a letter, memo, or report. What they want is “just the facts.” The general consensus that I’ve seen is that anything more than three sentences is too long. I’m not saying that’s a good thing, but that’s probably the way most of your readers feel, too. Unfortunately, many of them will react to your message based entirely on its subject line and won’t ever read the body of its text at all.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Never Write a Book About Writing
Even the people who put themselves forward as the defenders of the language, the cranks who love nothing more than spotting someone else’s errors, the maniacs who would dare to write books about writing, get caught up in the complexities of English. Take the example of Lynne Truss’s shockingly popular-- for a book on grammar and punctuation-- rant, Eats, Shoots & Leaves. Truss characterizes herself as the ultimate language crank, turning what is basically despair over misplaced or missing apostrophes into the basis for a whole (if slim and wide-margined) book. It’s entertaining in the way rants often are and she provides some funny examples. Still, the impression Truss creates is that she isn’t exactly someone you’d want to share an email exchange with. Chances are she’d rather grade your message rather than read it, then she’d use it as an amusing example in her next book. Which is probably why the response of so many critics was to take out their red pens and mark up her prose. The toughest response may have been that of Louis Menand, writing in The New Yorker, who doesn’t get very far before digging in the long knives:
A non-restrictive clause not preceded by a comma! Oh my! Menand goes on to provide a catalog of Truss’s sins:
The first punctuation mistake in “Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero ToleranceApproach to Punctuation” (Gotham; $17.50), by Lynne Truss, a British writer, appears in the dedication, where a nonrestrictive clause is not preceded by a comma. It is a wild ride downhill from there. “Eats, Shoots & Leaves” presents itself as a call to arms, in a world spinning rapidly into subliteracy, by a hip yet unapologetic curmudgeon, a stickler for the rules of writing. But it’s hard to fend off the suspicion that the whole thing might be a hoax.
A non-restrictive clause not preceded by a comma! Oh my! Menand goes on to provide a catalog of Truss’s sins:
So what’s one to do when “experts” on punctuation and grammar, people with book deals and (presumably) professional editors available to them, can’t keep things straight? How are we supposed to get the commas right in our correlative conjunctions if they can’t? What the hell is a correlative conjunction, anyway? Truss’s first mistake was to set herself up as an expert in the first place. Anyone who puts themselves in this position is just asking for trouble because they are going to have to watch every comma they use for the rest of their lives. Because Truss’s biggest problem is that she sets her rules of punctuation down in black and white, then proceeds to break them. Most of us won’t ever find ourselves in this position and don’t even have to worry about memorizing all of the rules and their oddball exceptions. What we want to do is gain a basic understanding of the rules and try to be consistent. Unless it makes your writing hard to read and understand, it’s probably not the end of the world if you abuse an apostrophe or indulge in a superfluous comma every now and then. As long as you’re not writing a book on grammar and punctuation, that is.The preface, by Truss, includes a misplaced apostrophe (“printers’ marks”) and two misused semicolons: one that separates unpunctuated items in a list and one that sets off a dependent clause. About half the semicolons in the rest of the book are either unnecessary or ungrammatical, and the comma is deployed as the mood strikes. Sometimes, phrases such as “of course” are set off by commas; sometimes, they are not. Doubtful, distracting, and unwarranted commas turn up in front of restrictive phrases (“Naturally we become timid about making our insights known, in such inhospitable conditions”), before correlative conjunctions (“Either this will ring bells for you, or it won’t”), and in prepositional phrases (“including biblical names, and any foreign name with an unpronounced final ‘s’ ”). Where you most expect punctuation, it may not show up at all: “You have to give initial capitals to the words Biro and Hoover otherwise you automatically get tedious letters from solicitors."
Friday, September 21, 2007
Rules and Exceptions
Still, the dynamic and open nature of English causes problems for any of us who try to write in it. Not having an “official” set of rules means that it’s often hard to understand how the language should work. There are plenty of places you can go for advice-- the trick is trying to get these sources to agree. You can consult dictionaries, grammar books or newspaper and wire service stylebooks for guidelines, but you are likely to come away confused by their very different opinions. The New York Times writes the plurals of CD and DVD as CD’s and DVD’s, for example, while The Wall Street Journal writes CDs and DVDs. The rules and the exceptions to them can be maddeningly confusing, even within one source. Take the example of the rules for punctuating possessives, which might cause more errors than anything else in written English (and contributes to the confusion when the Times writes CD’s and DVD’s). Strunk and White’s well-worn Elements of Style is generally a model of clarity and simplicity, but the details of its guide to punctuation can be harrowing. They tell us to form the possessive singular of nouns by adding 's, regardless of the final consonant. Except when you’re writing about Jesus (Jesus always seems to get an exception). Or other ancient proper names ending in either -es or -is as in Moses’ or Isis’. And common phrases like for consciences’ sake and for goodness’ sake. Oh yeah, and possessive pronouns (hers, theirs) don’t get apostrophes. How are we supposed to keep this stuff straight without having to memorize all the rules and their exceptions?
The truth is, the “rules” most of us were taught in school aren’t nearly as firm as we were led to believe. Sentences must include a verb. Really? You can’t start a sentence with and, but or because. And what will happen if I do? Because I do it all the time. Many of these rules were given to us by our English teachers in the hopes of helping us develop more complex thoughts and sentence structures. But others are simply rules transplanted from Latin by people who wanted to impose a little order on the chaos of the English language. Many of these rules, like not ending a sentence with a preposition or not splitting an infinitive, have become more like conventions than hard and fast rules. We only need to be bound by them as long as they help make our writing clearer and easier to read, especially since the stylebooks of major newspapers often can’t agree on how something as basic as the plural or possessive is formed.
The truth is, the “rules” most of us were taught in school aren’t nearly as firm as we were led to believe. Sentences must include a verb. Really? You can’t start a sentence with and, but or because. And what will happen if I do? Because I do it all the time. Many of these rules were given to us by our English teachers in the hopes of helping us develop more complex thoughts and sentence structures. But others are simply rules transplanted from Latin by people who wanted to impose a little order on the chaos of the English language. Many of these rules, like not ending a sentence with a preposition or not splitting an infinitive, have become more like conventions than hard and fast rules. We only need to be bound by them as long as they help make our writing clearer and easier to read, especially since the stylebooks of major newspapers often can’t agree on how something as basic as the plural or possessive is formed.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The 24/7 Language
Unlike the official idea of the French language being conserved and defended by the Académie Française, English (in all its varieties) is a language that is constantly re-making itself. Of course, the actual French language spoken by actual French speakers is also evolving in all kinds of interesting ways, but the Académie tries to do everything it can to keep French, well, French. English isn’t like that. Still have that dictionary out? Thumb through a bit and check out the etymology, or origins, of a sample of English words. These things come from everywhere! They’re rooted in German, English, Latin, even French; Dutch seems to have lent us some of our best dirty words (probably because all those hard “K” sounds are just funny to begin with). No wonder none of us can spell. Even though we do have a fair number of self proclaimed language experts who would like to preserve English the way they imagine it was widely written in Jane Austen’s day (and seem to be constantly correcting us as they defend what they see as the “rules”), English is basically an inclusive language, welcoming new words and usages when they seem helpful.
To borrow an idea from my IT background, English is a lot like the “open source” movement in software development. Everyone is welcome to contribute to the creation of the language and no one “owns” the final product. Because its evolution never stops, there never actually is a “final” product. This model can work miraculously well in certain situations (check out Wikipedia, the open-source encyclopedia, for a useful example). It can also be a disaster. Several big companies have experimented with Wikipedia-like websites, allowing anyone to post unedited messages, but had to pull the plug when they found that much of the content added by the public wasn’t exactly flattering to their businesses. Of course, this free-wheeling openness better suits Americans’ sense of who were are, whether it’s accurate or not. While the French are busy trying to protect their culture against outside words and ideas, we’re enthusiastically adopting foreign words and making up new ones. We like to think of ourselves as a “melting pot.” What could possibly exemplify this better than the big gooey mess of our language with its multicultural roots and frustrating complexities? Take the phrase “twenty-four seven,” often written as “24/7” and meant to indicate something that happens 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. While it grates on my nerves every time I hear a middle-aged broadcaster use it, it has become a part of the language because it represents an easy shortcut for a common idea. Besides, we need it in our dictionaries just in case aliens land on Earth, find our civilization in ruins, and need to decipher what’s being shouted on all those recordings of Jerry Springer.
Think how hard it would be to get by without some of the words that have been borrowed by American English. How could we possibly describe any female celebrity without using the word diva? What would we name our new tract housing developments if we couldn’t give them an air of luxury by calling them Tuscany Villas or Casa Montepulciano? One development listed in my newspaper offered four models of homes, the Lucera, Bergamo, Marsanne and Dolcetto. Not a Williamsburg or Mayfair in the bunch. What would we call our daughters if not Brittany or one of the seemingly endless variations on the name? And we’re not happy just borrowing words from other languages; English grows with additions from all kinds of interesting and unexpected places. Dictionary publishers love to get publicity by creating news stories about new words added to their latest editions. My favorite of these recent additions is D’oh!, the exclamation made famous by Homer Simpson, which you can now find in both Webster’s Millennium Dictionary of English and the Oxford English Dictionary, which many consider to be the closest thing our language has to a final authority. How cool is that?
To borrow an idea from my IT background, English is a lot like the “open source” movement in software development. Everyone is welcome to contribute to the creation of the language and no one “owns” the final product. Because its evolution never stops, there never actually is a “final” product. This model can work miraculously well in certain situations (check out Wikipedia, the open-source encyclopedia, for a useful example). It can also be a disaster. Several big companies have experimented with Wikipedia-like websites, allowing anyone to post unedited messages, but had to pull the plug when they found that much of the content added by the public wasn’t exactly flattering to their businesses. Of course, this free-wheeling openness better suits Americans’ sense of who were are, whether it’s accurate or not. While the French are busy trying to protect their culture against outside words and ideas, we’re enthusiastically adopting foreign words and making up new ones. We like to think of ourselves as a “melting pot.” What could possibly exemplify this better than the big gooey mess of our language with its multicultural roots and frustrating complexities? Take the phrase “twenty-four seven,” often written as “24/7” and meant to indicate something that happens 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. While it grates on my nerves every time I hear a middle-aged broadcaster use it, it has become a part of the language because it represents an easy shortcut for a common idea. Besides, we need it in our dictionaries just in case aliens land on Earth, find our civilization in ruins, and need to decipher what’s being shouted on all those recordings of Jerry Springer.
Think how hard it would be to get by without some of the words that have been borrowed by American English. How could we possibly describe any female celebrity without using the word diva? What would we name our new tract housing developments if we couldn’t give them an air of luxury by calling them Tuscany Villas or Casa Montepulciano? One development listed in my newspaper offered four models of homes, the Lucera, Bergamo, Marsanne and Dolcetto. Not a Williamsburg or Mayfair in the bunch. What would we call our daughters if not Brittany or one of the seemingly endless variations on the name? And we’re not happy just borrowing words from other languages; English grows with additions from all kinds of interesting and unexpected places. Dictionary publishers love to get publicity by creating news stories about new words added to their latest editions. My favorite of these recent additions is D’oh!, the exclamation made famous by Homer Simpson, which you can now find in both Webster’s Millennium Dictionary of English and the Oxford English Dictionary, which many consider to be the closest thing our language has to a final authority. How cool is that?
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Who Owns English?
While we want to make sure that we write effectively and clearly, it’s probably not even possible to write unassailable English. Unlike its French or German cousins, English is a language without an official set of rules. We don’t have a formal body presiding over our language in the same way that French speakers have the Académie Française, the organization that acts as the state-sponsored authority on French and publishes the official French dictionary. Even if you don’t recognize the name of the Académie Française you’re probably aware of their work. They pop up every now and then in those news stories on TV about the French trying to reassert control over their language by weeding out anglicized words like “weekend,” “t-shirt,” or “parking.” That’s the Académie Française in action. These reports seem to be cyclical and recur every few years, much like panic over Pit-bull attacks or threats of the imminent resurgence of bell-bottoms, but they seem to recur much more frequently when the French are out of favor and we have troops in Iraq. I remember hearing one of these anti-English stories for the first time when I was a teenager. Back then I was in the middle of spending several years being outraged by everything so, of course, I was outraged. Telling people how to speak and how to write! What could be wrong with calling a t-shirt a t-shirt! That’s un-American!
Now that I’ve spent more time trying to write clearly myself and have many years experience in trying to teach other people how to write, the idea of having a well-defined set of rules doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds a little comforting. Because the way English works is very different. You can’t even get very far in a discussion of English spelling, punctuation or grammar without having to clear up which version of English you’re talking about. Is it American English or English English? The language spoken in Australia or in India? And don’t even think about going out and buying a copy of the official English dictionary-- there’s no such thing. Despite the opening paragraphs of millions of high school essays (“Webster’s Dictionary defines Freedom as…”) and factoids from an equal number of corporate PowerPoint presentations, there’s no such thing as Webster’s Dictionary. Many publishers have piled on the legacy of Noah Webster by creating dictionaries that include “Webster’s” in their title, including the Merriam-Webster dictionary-- which is the legitimate descendant of Webster’s original work. English dictionaries, even the big impressive ones with the leather covers, even the ones with the gilt-edged pages, are different than the dictionary published by the Académie Française because they are meant to chronicle the way the language is used, not the way that it should be used. Webster’s first dictionary was conceived, in fact, to document uniquely “American” usages, to show how the language had grown in the English colonies. One of Webster’s original goals was to capture the everyday language of Americans, including new words derived from Native American languages (like “wigwam”) that seemed to especially excite him.
Don’t believe me? Get out the dictionary and look up a word that your elementary school English teacher told you not to use. No, not the dirty ones (though they are there too). How about ain’t? Most of us know a little ditty that tells us that the word doesn’t even exist: “Ain’t ain’t a word/ so you ain’t supposed to use it.” But when I look it up in the online version of the Merriam-Webster dictionary, there it is:
While the dictionary tells us that the usage of ain’t is widely disapproved, it doesn’t mind including it right along with all of the respectable words. In fact, it makes it seem kind of rebellious and cool. Heck, if Nixon is using ain’t, why shouldn’t I?
All right, then, go ahead and look up some of those dirty words. Just promise to come back.
Now that I’ve spent more time trying to write clearly myself and have many years experience in trying to teach other people how to write, the idea of having a well-defined set of rules doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds a little comforting. Because the way English works is very different. You can’t even get very far in a discussion of English spelling, punctuation or grammar without having to clear up which version of English you’re talking about. Is it American English or English English? The language spoken in Australia or in India? And don’t even think about going out and buying a copy of the official English dictionary-- there’s no such thing. Despite the opening paragraphs of millions of high school essays (“Webster’s Dictionary defines Freedom as…”) and factoids from an equal number of corporate PowerPoint presentations, there’s no such thing as Webster’s Dictionary. Many publishers have piled on the legacy of Noah Webster by creating dictionaries that include “Webster’s” in their title, including the Merriam-Webster dictionary-- which is the legitimate descendant of Webster’s original work. English dictionaries, even the big impressive ones with the leather covers, even the ones with the gilt-edged pages, are different than the dictionary published by the Académie Française because they are meant to chronicle the way the language is used, not the way that it should be used. Webster’s first dictionary was conceived, in fact, to document uniquely “American” usages, to show how the language had grown in the English colonies. One of Webster’s original goals was to capture the everyday language of Americans, including new words derived from Native American languages (like “wigwam”) that seemed to especially excite him.
Don’t believe me? Get out the dictionary and look up a word that your elementary school English teacher told you not to use. No, not the dirty ones (though they are there too). How about ain’t? Most of us know a little ditty that tells us that the word doesn’t even exist: “Ain’t ain’t a word/ so you ain’t supposed to use it.” But when I look it up in the online version of the Merriam-Webster dictionary, there it is:
Pronunciation: 'Ant
Etymology: contraction of are not
1 : am not : are not: is not
2 : have not : has not
3 : do not : does not : did not -- used in some varieties of Black Englishusage Although widely disapproved as nonstandard and more common in the habitual speech of the less educated, ain't in senses 1 and 2 is flourishing in American English. It is used in both speech and writing to catch attention and to gain emphasis
While the dictionary tells us that the usage of ain’t is widely disapproved, it doesn’t mind including it right along with all of the respectable words. In fact, it makes it seem kind of rebellious and cool. Heck, if Nixon is using ain’t, why shouldn’t I?
All right, then, go ahead and look up some of those dirty words. Just promise to come back.
Monday, August 6, 2007
A Warning
Before you commit yourself any further to Get Your Message Heard, I want to make something clear; this is not the guide for anyone hoping to learn the secrets of writing consistently perfect, impeccably grammatical sentences. We’re all busy people these days and the last thing I would want is for you to start reading this, get halfway through and discover that you still don’t have a thorough understanding of the subjunctive tense when that’s what you were looking for all along. If following along and not coming away with a definitive answer to the problem of the serial comma would leave you feeling cheated, please look elsewhere for help. Perfection is just too much for us to shoot for. Let’s face it, if you weren’t a grammar savant in high school you’re probably never going to be one. We’re just too busy, and what we need today isn’t flawlessness so much as functionality.
Besides, I’m really not the person to try to teach you perfection. By the time I went to public schools in the 70’s they had all but done away with teaching grammar and instead devoted most of their time teaching “English” to drilling us on a list of spelling words that administrators knew would show up on standardized tests. Despite this, I’m still a lousy speller and would be lost without spell-check. I wouldn’t even know where to begin diagramming a sentence, and I seem to have a very specific form of dyslexia where I often can’t tell the difference between a lowercase “d” and a “b”. Many of you are probably better proofreaders than I am so, go ahead, look for mistakes here. I’ll own up to them. While we’re cataloging my flaws, I stubbornly resist anything I’m told I “have to” do, and I tend to get way too emotional watching TV. There are at least three episodes of Futurama that make me cry-- go figure.
My main goal is to help you develop some basic writing skills that will enable you to communicate more effectively at work. The first step is convincing you that good writing is important in our fast-paced workplaces and that it is still possible in the era of email and instant messaging. It’s a good sign that you're paying attention now. All it takes for most people to make a significant improvement in their writing is to step back from it a little bit and think about what they’re doing. Because most of us who are writing badly at work don’t know that’s what we’re doing. We have no idea that our typo-ridden messages are causing us to lose credibility with our clients, that our boss never reads past the third sentence of our epic emails or that the red font we habitually use has so annoyed our co-workers that they’ve set up a rule to automatically delete all of our incoming messages. While it would be wonderful if we could all write dazzling prose, that’s really not what most of us need at work. What we need is something more utilitarian. Almost all of the writing we do in our jobs is focused on conveying information; we’re either asking someone a question that we need answered or we’re supplying information that someone else needs. So our writing should be primarily concerned with making sure that we’re getting this information across to our readers. If we don’t get their attention, if they stop reading because we’ve made them angry or they don’t take us seriously, if they can’t even make sense of what we’re trying to say, we’re not getting our message across. If our writing fails, communication fails.
Besides, I’m really not the person to try to teach you perfection. By the time I went to public schools in the 70’s they had all but done away with teaching grammar and instead devoted most of their time teaching “English” to drilling us on a list of spelling words that administrators knew would show up on standardized tests. Despite this, I’m still a lousy speller and would be lost without spell-check. I wouldn’t even know where to begin diagramming a sentence, and I seem to have a very specific form of dyslexia where I often can’t tell the difference between a lowercase “d” and a “b”. Many of you are probably better proofreaders than I am so, go ahead, look for mistakes here. I’ll own up to them. While we’re cataloging my flaws, I stubbornly resist anything I’m told I “have to” do, and I tend to get way too emotional watching TV. There are at least three episodes of Futurama that make me cry-- go figure.
My main goal is to help you develop some basic writing skills that will enable you to communicate more effectively at work. The first step is convincing you that good writing is important in our fast-paced workplaces and that it is still possible in the era of email and instant messaging. It’s a good sign that you're paying attention now. All it takes for most people to make a significant improvement in their writing is to step back from it a little bit and think about what they’re doing. Because most of us who are writing badly at work don’t know that’s what we’re doing. We have no idea that our typo-ridden messages are causing us to lose credibility with our clients, that our boss never reads past the third sentence of our epic emails or that the red font we habitually use has so annoyed our co-workers that they’ve set up a rule to automatically delete all of our incoming messages. While it would be wonderful if we could all write dazzling prose, that’s really not what most of us need at work. What we need is something more utilitarian. Almost all of the writing we do in our jobs is focused on conveying information; we’re either asking someone a question that we need answered or we’re supplying information that someone else needs. So our writing should be primarily concerned with making sure that we’re getting this information across to our readers. If we don’t get their attention, if they stop reading because we’ve made them angry or they don’t take us seriously, if they can’t even make sense of what we’re trying to say, we’re not getting our message across. If our writing fails, communication fails.
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