Why I Love Weird Al ... and Other Word Crimes

I love Weird Al. I have always loved Weird Al. (Who could resist that adorable face?)

But now I REALLY love Weird Al.

Not only does he know that "it's" is a contraction, he also knows what a dangling participle is. (Be still my heart!)

Now that I am backed by a celebrity, I feel inspired to add my own Word Crimes. And at the top of this list is:

1) Impact is not a verb. It is a noun. You can have an impact on something, but you can't impact it. It may be true that all your friends, TV announcers, and anybody with an MBA uses impact as a verb, BUT THEY ARE ALL WRONG! (And anyone who says "impactful" is going straight to hell.)

To continue my rant:

2) "Issue" does not mean "problem," it means a topic of debate. You can discuss an issue, but you cannot have one. (This grammar crime was fomented by therapists, who also have convinced susceptible individuals that they are "conflicted" when they have "issues.")

3) "Grow" is what you do with potatoes - not audiences, businesses, or twitter followers. (This is an MBA-speak crime.)

4) "Conflicted" is not an adjective. You can feel conflict, you can even be in conflict, but you can't be conflicted. (See number 2 above.)

5) "Different from" (or "different to" in Great Britain) is correct when you are comparing nouns, not "different than." For example, California is different from ... well, just about anywhere.

6) The object of a preposition is object case, not subject. Let's keep this between you and me, not you and I.

7) "Like" is for comparing nouns. "As if" is for verb phrases. I act like you, but we can't act like nothing matters. We must act as if nothing matters.

8) Plurals do not use apostrophes - ever. You own CDs, not *CD's.

9) A possessive goes with a gerund. "My going to California upset her" is correct, not *Me going to California upset her."

10) Reported speech uses declarative sentence structure. "I asked him what the time was" not *"I asked him what was the time." If you are quoting, you can use interrogative structure. Ex. I asked him, "What is the time?" (Reported speech is comprised of sentences beginning with phrases using verbs such as wonder, consider, ask, etc. Ex. I wondered what the time was. I considered what the alternatives were.)

11) "Lay" is a transitive verb. That means it requires an object. You lay a book on a table, or lay your head upon your pillow. "Lie" is intransitive. It does not take an object. Therefore, *"I'm going to lay down" is incorrect. "I'm going to lie down" is correct. Where this gets confusing is that the past tense of "lie" is "lay." "Last night I lay down at eight" is correct. (Note: "Lay low" is a colloquialism. Grammatically, it couldn't be more incorrect.)

If you are guilty of any of the above grammar indiscretions, you are doomed to suffer the eternal torment of grammarian hell. Also, people will assume you did not pay attention in my English class. (That's right. I'm talking about you, Pete.)

Jane Kaufman's writing tips: Punctuation marks deserve to be used with respect

By Jane Kaufman, The Republican, February 22, 2013

Like a great dance partner, punctuation adds rhythm, flow and spice to writing.

It allows the reader to glide through a piece of prose naturally. Poor punctuation bogs down a reader. It confuses and can deaden a lively experience: It grates on the soul.

Fixing common punctuation mistakes does not take a doctorate, although many might argue that the whole murky endeavor is best left to nerdy copyeditors and grammarians.

The rules of punctuation are complex. However, even without knowing them, it is possible to tell when a comma or period is needed by reading S-L-O-W-L-Y out loud with a great deal of expression.

Pick a favorite orator and imitate their delivery style while reading. Commas should be inserted in places where one breathes or feels hesitation mid-thought. As silly as it sounds, it helps.

How do writers know when they reach the end of a complete thought? When reading out loud, a writer’s voice will naturally drop down in volume and pitch at the end. At that point, it is best to stop and pencil in a period. The buck stops with a period. Periods are like traffic cops. They tell the reader to stop right here.

Commas can work like parentheses and dashes. They can work in pairs to offset a phrase that, while important, is unnecessary to the flow of the sentence. While each of these pairs of punctuation can work in the same way, each kind adds a different level of “volume.”

Dashes in pairs add a shout to a sentence. They – like hot peppers – are best used sparingly. That’s because readers don’t like to be yelled at.

Parentheses add a whisper (call it a secret) to a sentence. Yet, like dashes, they can grow tiresome, similar to the insistent tug of a child who wants to leave.

A pair of commas adds a nearly invisible aside, like this, to a sentence. Notice how transparent the commas are in that sentence. They interrupt quietly, without drawing attention to themselves or the phrase they contain. They’re polite, unassuming, like a genteel relative.

A second common use of the comma has to do with time-bound phrases called conditional, dependent or subordinate clauses.

If a sentence begins with the word “if,” then a comma will be needed just before the word “then.” That sentence shows it.

Whenever a sentence begins this way, a single comma will be needed in the middle of it. If a sentence begins by setting up conditions, the comma is placed just before the heart of the sentence. That is yet another example of the conditional clause.

Forgive me, Dear Reader, for I am about to sin. Run-on sentences stuff two or more complete thoughts between a single capital letter and period it is just awful to read them. What a train wreck. They evoke seasickness in the reader. They’re like really bad dates who never stop talking long enough for either party to breathe.

There are three common types of run-on sentences and four simple ways to fix them. The fixes, happily, are powerful sentence constructions in their own right.

Here’s one: Complete thought complete thought. Simply break up that baby into two sentences. Complete thought. Complete thought. Done.

The next type of run-on may be harder to spot: Complete thought, complete thought. Remember: Commas don’t separate complete thoughts. Periods do. Exchange the comma for a period, and where two ideas leaned against each other wobbling unsteadily on the dock, two sturdy sentences will be firmly anchored.

The last type of run-on is the easiest to fix but may be the hardest to spot: Complete thought and complete thought. That “and” in the middle could easily be switched with “or,” “but,” “yet,” “so” or “nor.” Simply add a comma before the conjunction, and the sentence will now work like a well-oiled machine. Complete thought, and complete thought.

Hmm, that was three types of run-ons but just two fixes. It was not a ruse: There are two more excellent ways to fix run-ons. However, they require the introduction of, horrors, the colon and the semicolon.

In its Zen way, the semicolon both separates and connects thoughts. It’s a great catalyst and networker. Like the period, it can be tossed in between complete thoughts. It works particularly well when the thoughts are closely linked; notice how it works here. Some people like to use semicolons; others prefer periods. It’s seamless, yet adds space; the semicolon is nearly ethereal.

Perhaps because of its unfortunate name, the colon is a sadly misunderstood and underused punctuation mark: It deserves better. In fact, colons make great messengers. They come in on horseback and bring trumpets and drum rolls heralding important news from far away.

A colon placed between two complete thoughts adds punch to the second thought. It works like the lights on the marquis of a movie theater, adding drama to whatever comes next. Therefore, the colon is best used when the second thought is more important than the first.

Here’s a rule unique to the colon: Capitalize the word that follows the colon if it’s the beginning of a complete thought. That convention gives the colon panache.

A word to the wise: Never use exclamation points in formal writing! They're like pompous generals who are in love with themselves.

How to end a column about punctuation?

A period might be the best choice, but an ellipsis is ever so tempting. It beckons with a Mona Lisa smile and trails off like an attractive stranger across the room, holding out promise and mystery. . .

Original article posted on MassLive

The Grammar Mistake That Will Kill Your Career

Updated 6/7/26

Every writer knows that grammar and spelling errors are the kiss of death in a manuscript. That’s why we hire professional editors and send our manuscripts to proofreaders.

What writers don’t realize is that making simple mistakes in a query letter or a submission can lead to a rejection. 

I’m not talking about spelling the word “supersede” wrong. After all, it’s the most misspelled word in the English language, and chances are your agent won’t know how to spell it either.

I am talking about a little word. It’s its.

It’s is a contraction of “it is.” Its is a possessive (e.g. its teeth.)

Apostrophes aren't used in plurals, either. You don’t buy *shoe's, you weren’t born in the *1980’s, and you very definitely don't read *book’s. (I saw that once on a book reviewer's website.)

As an editor/English teacher, the misuse of it’s is the most common error I come across. I can say without hesitation that an apostrophe in the wrong context is a catastrophe. It tells me that you don’t know your craft.

Here are some other linguistic sins of commission. 

Lay versus Lie. Even people with university degrees get this wrong. Lie is an intransitive verb. That means it cannot take an object. “I am lying on the couch” is correct not *“I am laying on the couch.” Lay is a transitive verb. (It takes an object.) “Stop squirming and lay your head on that block!” is correct. But confusion arises once we launch into the past tense. The past tense of lie is lay. “I lay down after dinner last night” is perfectly fine. So, what is the past tense of lay? Why it's laid, and so is its past participle. (The past participle of lie is lain, by the way, not laid, as in "I have lain in bed all day." Nobody told you English was going to be easy.)

Affect versus Effect. This is another source of confusion. Affect is a verb. Storms can affect crops. (No, it can’t impact them.) Effect is a noun. For example, “The effect of the legislation was devastating.” Now, here is where it gets dicey. Affect is also a noun meaning “emotion.” “The patient was devoid of affect.” And effect can be a noun meaning "possession," ex. “You can pick up your personal effects tomorrow.” (Again, nobody told you English was going to be easy.)

Further versus Farther. Nothing could be simpler: farther refers to distance, and further refers to time. (Just think furthermore.) But in the UK, further is also used for distance. Who is right? Americans are, naturally. (Except when we are wrong.)

Me versus I. The object of a preposition is object case, not subject case. It's "Let’s keep this between you and me" (it's between us) not *"between you and I" (because you can't say *"This is between we"). Whoa! What about “Me and Julio down by the schoolyard”? Me (object case) is being used as a subject in that example, which, despite being the title of a song written by two college graduates, one of whom was an English major for pete's sake, is dead wrong. You can reverse cases when you are chatting with your friends, or composing a folk rock song, or trying to sound less stuffy than you really are, but don’t put it in your writing. Please.

“Like” is for comparing nouns. “As if” is for verb phrases. I can act like you, but we can’t act like nothing matters. We must act as if nothing matters. If you are writing dialogue, it’s fine to use the colloquial form. (Nobody actually says “as if" anymore. I mean, as if...) 

A possessive goes with a gerund. “My going to California upset her” is correct, not * “Me going to California upset her.” (The British make this mistake all the time. They can’t speak English.)

Reported speech uses declarative sentence structure. “I asked him what the problem was” not *“I asked him what was the problem.” If you are quoting, you can use interrogative structure, e.g. I asked him,“What was the problem?” 

Reported speech follows verbs such as wonder, ask, ponder, consider, etc. For example: I wondered where he was. I asked him what he was doing under my bed. I pondered why I had married him. 

JARGON
 
And now for jargon. Technically, jargon is not always incorrect. However, it is always annoying. Avoid jargon unless you're writing a satire, or you’ve got quotes around it, indicating that you are only using jargon under extreme duress.

“Issue” does not mean “problem,” it means a topic of debate. You can discuss an issue, but you cannot have one. (This grammar crime was fomented by therapists, who also have convinced susceptible individuals that they are “conflicted” when they have “issues.”)

“Conflicted” is not an adjective. You can feel conflict, you can even be in conflict, but you can’t be conflicted. “Conflicted” replaced “mixed feelings,” which is what people used to have before they had “issues.”

“Grow” is what you do with potatoes — not audiences, businesses, or social media followers. (This is an MBA-speak crime.)

"Concerning" is a preposition. Concerning means "about," as in: Concerning the plight of the refugees, we need to take action immediately. "Worrisome" is an adjective that expresses a situation that causes concern. (Worrying is a verb that describes what you are doing when you can't get your ex-husband out from under your bed.) (In case you have looked it up, I disagree with Merriam-Webster concerning "concerning.")

“Different from” (or “different to” in Great Britain; they can’t get anything right) is correct when you are comparing nouns, not “different than.” For example, California is different from … well, just about anywhere.

IMPACT IS NOT A VERB. Yes, I know you’ve seen it a million times, and at this point impact is even listed as a verb in the dictionary. But I eliminate that misuse from every piece of writing that crosses my desk. It may be commonly accepted, but it is evil. And "impactful" is an outright crime against well-spoken humanity.

And now, a story to demonstrate my point

A while ago, I took a seminar in grant writing. I was the director of a nonprofit, and knowing how to write a grant was essential for the future of my organization. The leader of the seminar asked the group if we knew how grantors made their decisions. We replied, “On the merits of our projects.” (Like writers, nonprofit organizations are under the illusion that good work counts.) She immediately set us straight.

“They hold up the first page of each application to the light,” she said. “If they see Wite-Out [this was in the age of typewriters], they throw the entire application away. They repeat that process, going through each page, until they get a pile of perfectly written applications. Those are the ones they read.”

The moral of the story: Don’t give anybody an excuse to throw your work out. Edit everything you write, consult a dictionary, check all your punctuation marks, and watch those apostrophes.

People in the publishing business — and I know them well— have no mercy.