Modifier matters
Occasionally I harp on where you put “only” in your writing. With the right sentence, you can create a humorous (or disastrous) misunderstanding by inadvertently modifying the wrong word. Here’s a good example of the effect on meaning caused by where you place the modifier. I put the key phrases in italic to make them, um, obvious.
There are two ways of constructing a software design: One way is to make it so simple that there are obviously no deficiencies, and the other way is to make it so complicated that there are no obvious deficiencies. The first method is far more difficult. —C.A.R. Hoare
In this case, the writer wanted to say it both ways to make a point. Using similar constructions like that calls attention to what he wants to say. Nice.
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Time for a comma comic
My thanks to the originator, whoever that is.
By the way, that apostrophe is for the contraction for “let us.” This is a form of the imperative. It is not the third person singular present indicative as in “He lets Grandma escape.” Yes, the writer should have capitalized Grandma’s name.
Humor in the passive voice
I try to discourage writers from using the passive. Here’s a cartoon about one reason why.
We have a couple dozen laying hens at our house, so we follow Doug Savage. His comics frequently feature chickens, even if they aren’t exactly about chickens. Here’s a link to a few more language comics on his website: Savage Chickens.
In which I wax philosophical
I often post about removing extra verbiage from your writing. No one has mentioned it, so I will: If you take everything out, you end up with plain, non-conversational, maybe boring prose.
That’s correct. I approve of writing that’s not awash with waves of superfluous locutions.
My goal is to teach you how to write prose that nobody pays attention to. You want them to think about the subject, not about you, not about the writing. Do not to distract your reader.
“But what fun is that?” you ask. “How will they identify with me as a fellow human?” “Don’t I want my reader to feel connected with me?”
You have a point. Under some circumstances you want your reader to think about you, to get a feeling of conversation, fellowship, company. Here is the philosophical question—When do you want these things? Unlike Plato, I’ll tell you straight out:
Think about your readership and the document you are writing. If it’s expository and all business, go for plain. If your writing is supposed to be entertaining, such as a blog, an editorial, a novel, a poem, a love letter, then those extra words that add atmosphere and flavor are appropriate. That’s why you occasionally see a conversational tone in this site. However, I make a conscious effort never to waste my words—I want to be a good example; you won’t find me breaking my own rules very often, and I always do it on purpose.
Be friendly when you need to be, but don’t go overboard.
Superfluous words
I remember this lesson from junior high English. Here’s an example of what my English teacher said not to do:
It’s kind of like going to a showing of The Princess Bride expecting to see a romance film.
“Kind of” and “sort of” were anathema. We were supposed to use “rather.”
This site is mostly about expository writing, the kind of writing you find in technical literature, essays, explanations, instructions; the type of writing in which you explain something. When you explain something, you want to throw as few obstacles as possible into the mental path of your reader. Unnecessary words are obstacles to comprehension—they give your mind something to examine, then reject: two steps when none will do.
In fact, my English teacher didn’t go far enough. “Rather” doesn’t add to the sentence, either. You send the whole message when you write
It’s like going to a showing of The Princess Bride expecting to see a romance film.
—and it’s less work for your reader.
When your purpose is to explain something, keep an eye open for words that don’t change the meaning if you take them out. Then take them out. Your readers’ minds will thank you.