Editors: We Are Not the Grammar Police!

Editors.

We are a long way from what most people think we are. We are not the bossy know-it-alls who glory in telling authors how bad they suck. We're not J. Jonah Jameson, shouting at the writers who hand us their copy with trembling hands. We're not inflexible about THE RULES and how they should be followed.

We're not even the people who correct everyone's Facebook posts, believe it or not.

We're people who just enjoy polishing words and phrases. People who help to clarify meaning by adjusting structure. People who like to make sure the image a writer wishes to create is the image that comes across in the narrative.

One of the things that grows old fast for an editor is when someone calls us the grammar police. (Worse yet, a grammar Nazi, because only the Nazis were/are Nazis, and it's an abhorrent term that should not be tossed about lightly, comparing someone who corrects text with someone who committed genocide. But I digress.)

The term "grammar police" implies that editors lie in wait, hoping for someone to mess up so they can publicly shame them. Even the real police don't do that. Well . . . maybe the state troopers who ticket speeders on the highway do that.

But back to me.

I mean, other editors.

Okay, me. AND other editors.

We love a well-turned phrase, but honestly, the feeling of the fix and polish is more of a feeling of accomplishment for our own skills, not a feeling of superiority over the person whose work we're reading through.

I can't tell you how many times I've had acquaintances make a comment to me along the lines of "I'm so paranoid to write anything on your Facebook wall without rereading it a dozen times" or "Gosh, you're probably cringing as you read my post" or any number of variations on that theme. Let me set the record straight:

• I don't correct someone's writing unless they're paying me for it, or have specifically asked me to do so. 
• I don't always use proper English when I speak—just like everyone else when they talk. 
• I don't use proper punctuation (other than for clarity) when I'm typing in a private chat window or text with a friend.
• And I never EVER correct someone publicly on social media, especially strangers.

Those people who take joy in that type of overzealous behavior are jerks, plain and simple. Half the time, they don't even know the real rules (or the change in language that makes a certain style now obsolete) but simply want to show someone (strangers? and why?) that they're smarter than someone else. Quoting what we call "zombie rules," i.e. habits or styles that are/were popular but not actually rules that must be followed, is almost always done by those who have no basis for what they're insisting on. And yet the drive-by editors still do it with regularity.

Denise Cowle has a great blog post about why the grammar police aren't cool. When it was recently shared in an editing group, almost every editor in the group agreed that they don't like being viewed that way and don't behave that way. Again, it's always those who don't actually know what's what who shout the loudest. Where she reminds us that we need to be kind, she says, "If you're lucky enough to have benefited from a good education, and you don't have to wrestle with a learning difference such as dyslexia, be thankful and be gracious."

Graciousness and kindness never hurts. You never know when someone is writing in their second language, or with a disability, or whose speech-to-text program doesn't quite catch everything.

Another terrific post that addresses this is "4 Reasons Why Freelance Writers Shouldn't Be Grammar Police" by Linda Formichelli. It might be more aptly named "Why Grammar Police Make Boring Writers," because that's what inevitably happens when rules (or supposed rules) are adhered to without nuance or voice being considered: it's sterile and boring.

Grammar police? I think I'd rather be known as the Shiny Word Fairy or something like that. Since my goal is not to sterilize anything, but to make someone's work sparkle, I think it's fitting.

Thanks for listening, folks!

Love,

Lynda, the Shiny Word Fairy

I'm a Guest Blogger at IWSG Today!

Hey, everyone!

Today marks a first for me: I have been asked to write a guest post for today's Insecure Writer's Support Group, so you can find me over at their site.

I've been part of the IWSG for a few years now and have lurked, commented, and learned as the authors, designers, and publishers who make up the membership have shared their collective knowledge.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why they asked me to guest—maybe they thought I was someone else, or typed the wrong email addy, or they were just plain desperate, but hey, I'll take it. I love to do things like this, and the IWSG is a group of people I admire for their support of bloggers and writers all over the world. They promote each other, cheer for each other, and offer solid advice when writer's block plops itself firmly down on your keyboard.

So head on over to their site today and say hello! My post will be no surprise to those of you who have been following my Worst Writing Advice series—it sort of sums up rules that aren't rules and why we don't always have to follow them.

Here's THE LINK so you have no excuse to go back to your regularly scheduled lives without at least saying, "Great post. Thanks for sharing."

Just kidding. I'll hunt you down and punch you if you leave a lame, generic comment like that. We all know how that works.

Worst Writing Advice: Contractions Aren't Allowed

When I started writing about bad writing advice, I knew there was a lot floating around out there. I'd see it from time to time on forums through Goodreads, Facebook, and other places where writers gather to share encouragement and ideas. And yet, when I'd sit down to write my posts, all the oooh, this bugs me! moments would abandon me, making me wonder why I thought it was a good idea to do this series in the first place.

Not so this week. This post is all about contractions.

They seem to come up a lot when talking with fiction writers. For some reason I've never been able to track, many writers are under the impression that one should never use contractions when penning fiction.

I can't think of much that makes dialogue sound more stilted than someone who doesn't use contractions, unless it's Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation, in which case it sounds perfectly normal. Granted, there might be a good reason for it (like Data's programming limitations). A book I edited years ago featured a mage who never used contractions, and that trait set off his dialogue nicely, making his voice easy to identify. Or perhaps a character who doesn't use contractions is someone who is royalty, or more formal in their speech because of a class distinction. That's fine. Perfectly fine. More than fine.

What isn't fine is when someone tries to tell you that NO ONE can use contractions when writing. Scientific writing has a tradition of not using contractions, but this blog post by Stephen Heard discusses why even that is an irritation for him personally. He states that the use of contractions in scientific text is seen as "unprofessional or unscientific" but then points out that the reader's perception of that is circular in its logic: "we avoid contractions in scientific writing because they sound informal, but they sound informal to us only because we're used to avoiding them in scientific writing!"

Somehow, newer writers have taken the traditions of scientific writing and morphed them into some sort of unbreakable curse rule for all writing, fiction included. But let's face it, not only is this not a rule, it's ridiculous to attempt.

First of all, most people use contractions when they speak. (See my Editor's Notes post about dialogue sounding real.) And if a good work of fiction is supposed to reach people by feeling "real," what better way to give authenticity than by mimicking real-life speech patterns?

On The Write Practice, Joe Bunting discusses the fact that English teachers tell their students that contractions should never be used in writing, but he personally suggests it "only so you don't ruin your grade." His practical advice: ". . . if you're writing anything remotely creative, and especially if you're writing dialogue, you need to be using contractions. Real people use them and so should you."

Heck, even The Chicago Manual of Style says, "Most types of writing benefit from the use of contractions. If used thoughtfully, contractions in prose sound natural and relaxed and make reading more enjoyable." (5.105) If CMOS says it, you know I'm all in.

Contractions are not a modern gimmick. They've been around for centuries. Even Beowulf had contractions in it.

The important thing to remember is that the "no contractions" thing is NOT a rule. Fight anyone who tries to tell you it is. Sound natural. Sound relaxed. Make the reading more enjoyable, and live to write creatively!

Worst Writing Advice: Get Rid of ALL the Adverbs!

If you've ever gotten a group of writers or editors together, you are probably aware that there are as many opinions as there are people. Sometimes the number of opinions actually outnumbers the people present, which should defy all logic but somehow doesn't.

In the editor groups I'm part of, it's generally agreed upon that there are rules that shouldn't be broken. It's also agreed upon that there is something called "best practice" that is subject to circumstance. The thing about best practice is that it can vary from editor to editor, depending on a number of factors. The important part about best practice is that it has to make sense.

Take adverbs, for example. Please. Take them all. Take them far away. In fact, anything that ends in -ly should be banished from the language entirely.

Is that what you've been told? Stephen King even says in On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, "I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops."

I tend to agree with Mr. King, but not for the reasons you may think. I've done posts about adverbs on this blog, including "What's So Bad About Adverbs?" in a previous Editor's Notes, so some of you are already aware of my views on this.

Here's the thing: there are many convincing reasons why you should get rid of as many adverbs as you can, and many convincing reasons why they are not, in fact, from the devil himself. The most important thing to remember is that this falls under the "advice" column and not the "nonnegotiable rules" column. So what is the best practice for adverbs?

The advice, when followed sensibly, reminds writers to get rid of the types of adverbs that create redundancy.

He shouted loudly across the field. She ran quickly to the door. He pounded forcefully on the table.

All these adverbs are redundant. Shouting is loud. Running is fast. Pounding shows force. "Quickly" might be used if the sentence read "she made her way quickly to the door" instead, but in this case, the verb used gives a different feel to the movement.

The other reason writers are so often advised to get rid of their adverbs is because they're using them to write in a lazy fashion. It's easier to say "Oh, no!" she cried despairingly than it is to describe what she looked like in her moment of despair. What about "Oh, no!" She choked out the words as her gaze darted back and forth from one family member to another, looking for a different answer than the one she'd been given.

Which one gives a visual to the reader? The first tells us how the character reacted. The second shows us. This is where the "show, don't tell" advice comes from, and is what prompts so many writers to panic if they find a sentence that tells.

DO NOT PANIC. Listen to me here, because this is important. YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TELL. You are even allowed to tell with an -ly adverb if you so choose. Sometimes you want to say "she walked quietly to the door" because she didn't creep, or tiptoe, or sneak. She simply walked quietly and that's that.

The important thing to keep in mind is that advice like "remove adverbs" becomes advice because in a lot of situations, it's sensible, removes redundancy, and helps to keep the writing interesting. But it's not a rule, and there is no need to make yourself crazy with a search & seizure of anything that ends in -ly. Adverbs are a legit part of speech that can be used to great effect in the right place at the right time.

Just like good food, fine chocolate, or necessary medications, a little is good, but that doesn't mean that a lot is necessarily better.

Worst Writing Advice: When the Rules Aren't Rules

Not all writing advice is created equal.

That sentence above is a prime example. It's not the perfect construction, but I like it and since my blog is written the way I'd speak if we were face to face, that's how I wrote it.

It's not a big deal, but there are people out there who twitch at sentence structure that's not "perfect" according to the rules. They wag an index finger at the offending writer and tout THE RULES to prove their case.

Rules are great. I won't deny that. We can't have anarchy in the grammar world, after all. But there are times when rules are broken effectively—as long as they're purposeful—and other times when the rules need to be the rules and that's that.

The problem arises when a rule isn't exactly a rule; i.e., when something is thought of as a rule, but is merely tradition—or worse, tradition based on misinterpretation or misapplication.

Can you end a sentence with a preposition? Can you begin one with a conjunction? Can you use contractions in dialogue? What about fragmented sentences? Are you allowed to split infinitives?

Does the passive voice always, always have to be adjusted? No, it doesn't, and there's a passive sentence for you right there. I wanted "passive voice" to be first in the sentence so you'd immediately know what the sentence was about, rather than adjust it to say, "Do you always have to adjust the passive voice?" Sometimes we don't want to wait for the end of the sentence to find out what it's about. What if I fell asleep while typing and only wrote, "Do you always have to adjust the" but when I woke up, didn't remember what I'd been thinking? ADJUST THE WHAT? I get interrupted far too often to remember these things.

Over the next few posts, I'll be looking at rules that aren't really rules. Some of them are worth listening to, and others . . . well, I can guarantee you that some are not the hill(s) you want to die on just to prove your point.

If you have any "rules" you've wondered about (yep, the scare quote kind), let me know and I'll look them up and feature them. I've heard a lot of bad advice out there and would love to help you sort out what's what.

What do you think, people? Got some bad advice you'd like me to debunk? Lets hear it!