Kansas City Freelance Writer Liz Craig

There are those of us who want to connect with lots of people, via any means possible. Or I should say, every means possible. Computer, iPhone or Android, tablet, bluetooth, Facebook, LinkedIn, you name it, they’re on it. Connecting with lots of people they don’t really know (like on LI or FB).

I admit I have a few connections. But enough, already. Complete strangers are asking me to Link In with them. On FB, people who may not even be people want to join groups I’m in. Sure these things are convenient, but how good are those connections? And what do you pay for the convenience?

For one thing, you lose your privacy. If you are tagged on a photo in someone’s FB page, did you know people can find out nearly everything about you, from your Social Security number to your favorite stores? Probably same with LinkedIn.

I don’t know about you, but I’m torn about remaining in FB. I have some great FB friends from my hometown I’d like to keep in touch with, and heck, I’m administrator of two FB groups. But it’s all so… public.

Remember when you didn’t know what everyone’s favorite music, movies and songs were? When you had no idea what their dog looked like, if they lived in a different town? When people used to phone each other to get caught up? Or, heaven forfend, handwrote letters and cards?

I was going through boxes and boxes of photos, clippings and letters from both sides of my family and came across some delightful notes from my grandfathers mostly expressing what a wonderful child I was. But what was so touching was that I could see their handwriting. My father’s father’s handwriting was large and bold, beautiful in its loopiness. My mother’s father’s handwriting was not so large, but also beautifully executed. And when they handwrote letters, they had to think about what they were writing, because it would years later be discovered in a big box of photos, letters and all. They had to think more about what they were writing than I do right now, because if I make an error, I only have to hit “delete” and correct it. They were committed to their words by a bond of ink.

I vow today to start handwriting letters to my friends. I have one friend in Omaha who treasures them, whenever I get around to writing them. Sometimes she will send me a typed letter, which is nearly as good. They’re done on a manual typewriter. I want my dad’s old Smith-Corona portable back, so I can hear the “thwack” the keys made on the paper.

We’re so connected, but are we really connected to the right people, in the right way? I sometimes doubt it.

Here I am, a proofreader and editor, as well as a writer, apparently misled by those nice lady English teachers all these years about what proper grammar is. It’s okay to boldly split infinitives? It’s okay to ask where this shipment is to go to? Good grief!

The ground beneath my feet isn’t exactly shifting, but some parts of my brain are; the parts that absorbed what apparently is false information about proper English grammar. Just take a look at this brief article. The Smithsonian is always right, so it must be so!

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/Most-of-What-You-Think-You-Know-About-Grammar-is-Wrong-187940351.html

But boy, sometimes I wish there were!

Have you noticed that these days, everyone from “Fresh Air” host Teri Gross to the third-grader next door is starting sentences with “So…?”

Several years ago, when I first heard a biology grad student do it, I thought it was cute and kind of funny. I mean, it sounded as if she were continuing a conversation, rather than answering a question. The first few times you heard it, it jolted you awake. Wakefulness is always a desirable state to be in, unless you’re an insomniac. But then it became annoying. In my mind, “so” belongs in a sentence where it means one thing is a consequence of another. For instance, “His home blew away, SO he was homeless.”

But as the first word in a conversation? “So…” has gone viral, or become a meme, or *something*, and I tried to figure out why. Perhaps people don’t want to be interrupted or thought dumb, so instead of “Well” or “Uh,” they say, “So…” to alert you that they’re about to say something.

Also, how many times lately have you heard a politician or interviewee on TV or radio say, in non-answer to a question, “That’s a great question?” Every day people at City Council meetings are even using it. Good grief, if all the questions people asked before someone said that actually *were* great, fine. But the phrase, repeated several times during an interview or conversation, is not a reflection of the quality of the question. It’s just a speed bump, a breather, a two-second “think of plausible response” tic. “Let me think a second” would sound as if you didn’t know the answer. “Hmm” or the formerly popular “Y’know…” are out of fashion. It seems everyone’s doing the “great question” dodge these days.

As long as I’m griping about grammar here, the most recent thing that I dislike, even more than anchovies (ugh), is “change up” or “change out,” when “change” alone will do. A person says they’re going to “change up” their workout routine. Or they’re going to “change out” one light bulb for another. My solution: Out with the “out” and the “up.”

Finally of course, there’s the ubiquitous “snuck” instead of the perfectly good “sneaked.” Recently I heard someone use “sneaked” as the past tense of “sneak,” and I wanted to hug that person. But the trend is toward “snuck.” Even the OED people have no problem with “snuck.” I question their standards. Question: If your sneakers are worn out, is it okay to say they are “snuckered?” Oh, well, maybe I’m stuck in the 19th century, but I cannot make myself say “snuck,” especially since it’s an ugly, blunt word. Yes, words do have shapes, and some sound lovelier than others.

What other words annoy me? Say, that’s a great question! So… What words or usages drive you up a wall? Let me know, so I can start using them on people who say “snuck!”

Do you ever furrow your brow and chew your pencil (What’s a “pencil” these days?) about whether “which” or “that” is the proper word to use in a sentence? You know there must be some rule besides, “That sounds funny.” But you’re still all at sea.

Well, fear not, there is a rule, or rather, a tricky difference between a “restrictive relative clause” and a “non-restrictive relative clause.” I can see your eyes glazing from all the way over here, just as they did in English class. Well, don’t fret. This isn’t a big deal to learn.

Take a look at the following two sentences:
• He returned the book, which was due.
• He returned the book that was due.

Both of these sentences are correct. In both these sentences, the “which” or “that” was introducing a “restrictive relative clause.” That’s a clause that gives you important information about the noun before it. The meaning of the sentence would be different if you left out that clause. Restrictive relative clauses can kick off with the words that, which, whose, who, or whom.

But there’s another type of relative clause, a non-restrictive relative clause. You could think of the “non” as the beginning of “non-essential,” because even if you left out the clause, the meaning of the sentence probably wouldn’t change much. Non-restrictive clauses can begin with which, whose, who, or whom. Using “that” to introduce them is a no-no.

Examples of sentences with proper usage of non-restrictive relative clauses:
• She watered the plants, which made the leaves damp.
• A GPS would have made it easier to navigate through the neighborhood, which had few street signs.

The giveaway that you’re looking at a non-restrictive clause is a comma before the “which.” There is none before a restrictive clause.

Examples:
Non-restrictive: He bought her a ring, which he slipped into his pocket.
Restrictive: He slipped a ring that he bought for her into his pocket.

Examples of incorrect usage:
• Here are the papers which you need to sign. (Use “that.” Or neither “that” nor “which.” It’s clear what the sentence means without either.)
• Here are the people that signed up for the class. (Trick example. Always use “who” for people. This would be a restrictive clause, because what comes after “that” or “who” is essential information.)
• She was defrosting the fish which she wanted to cook for dinner.”
(Should be “that.”)

There may be some sentences that stump you about “which” or “that,” but if you’re really stuck, sometimes the easiest answer is to rewrite the sentence to eliminate the problem. Tricks of the trade, m’dear. (wink)

Recently, I joined a writers’ meetup. It’s fun hearing other people’s writing and offering words of wisdom to newbies.

A newbie writer is like a new puppy, all bounce and go and eagerness. Arf! And like a puppy, the newbie writer doesn’t know any rules yet. He or she is just chasing after every butterfly of an idea, wild with the feeling of being FREE!

I love freedom. I love new ideas. Nothing wrong with being excited about your work, and eager to share it. Most experienced writers are gentle with newbies, as anyone would be with a new puppy. But there comes a time…

Unbounded enthusiasm and rules-free writing can be exciting for a new writer, but the grim truth is, if you’re going to write things people actually want to read, you’ll need to follow some rules.

One thing the aspiring writer must know how to use is contractions. To a sensitive reader, every misplaced apostrophe or misused word is a mild shock. It disturbs, it frustrates, it just plain makes some readers mad. So here are a few contractions any writer worth his or her salt ought to know.

Your/you’re

• “Your” is possessive. Proper usage: “Here is your coat.” The coat belongs to “you.” It’s “yours.” No apostrophes in sight.

• “You’re” is a contraction for “you are.” Think of that apostrophe as a miniscule “a.” “You’re a sweetie.” That means, “You are a sweetie.”

They’re/their/there

Oh boy, these three words trip up a lot of people. But an artist of words must master these. Let’s take the easy one first.

• “They’re” means “they are.” Remember the bit about seeing the tiny “a” in “you’re?” Same thing here. “They are leaving.”

• “Their” means “belongs to them.” Like “our” or “your.” “Their toys were rusted.” “The toys that belong to them were rusted.”

• I don’t know how “there” even got into this mix. It’s a completely different kind of word. Its mate is “here.” Use it to indicate where something is. “It’s over there.” “There is my hat.”

The final one for today is…

It’s and its

• The apostrophe in “it’s” also stands for a tiny letter, but in this case, it’s “i.” So “it’s” means “it is.” “It’s your turn.” “It’s easy to learn this.”

• “Its” is a possessive. Example: “The cat licked its fur.” “The cat licked the fur that belonged to it.” “The Foundation named its 2013 grantees.” Well, the grantees don’t actually belong to the Foundation, but it’s not a he or a she, so when “it” does things, you’d use “its.” I know, a cat is either a he or a she, but sometimes, we don’t know or care which. How did I get into this mire? Lemme out!

There are some non-existent contractions people use, like “her’s,” but of course, you know that “her” is already a possessive (as in “her coat,” “her hair,” and so on), and if you want to refer to something that belongs to her, you would say, “That shoe is hers.” You wouldn’t put an apostrophe in “his,” would you? So don’t do it to “hers.”

All this stuff is easy, right? Right! And yes, you do have to memorize the correct usages if you’re going to write something others will read, whether it’s a Post-It note, an e-mail, or a novel. Okay, then. Go and write it right!

P.S. I know I should have said, “Write it ‘correctly,’ but “right” just sounded, well, right!

Nine times out of ten these days, when you say “Thank you,” you’ll get “No problem” in response, rather than “You’re welcome.” I think that is just plain wrong. Not because I’m a wannabe Miss Manners. But because of the connotation of “No problem.”

Let’s say I did something for you, like oh, what? Since I’m just making this up, let’s say I had you over for a home-cooked dinner. The food was delicious, and you could tell I cleaned up the house before you arrived (because there was no cat hair on your plate). Doing all that is kind of a big deal for me. It took hours of dusting, vacuuming, hiding piles of books and newspapers, not to mention the shopping for ingredients and cooking the dinner. As you leave, you convey your appreciation by saying, “Hey, thank you! That was delicious.” In return, what if I say, “No problem?”

I never would say that because to me, it sounds like, “Meh. I was planning to cook and vacuum anyway. ” Which sounds like both you and the thing I did for you have little value. Whereas “You’re welcome” acknowledges that I did put in some effort to please you, and you are worthy of my caring and hospitality.

There are other situations where “No problem” would be okay, I suppose. For instance, if you dropped a coupon at the grocery store for 15¢ off a package of Knorr’s soup mix, and I picked it up and gave it back to you. You’d probably say, “Thanks.” And maybe I’d say, “No problem.” It really was no problem, or not much of one. I was right behind you, I saw you drop it, and I decided to be helpful to a fellow earth-dweller. Just a little positive encounter that makes me feel good, and maybe you, too.

What I’m suggesting is that we all be aware of the difference between “You’re welcome” and “No problem.” The idea behind the two phrases is similar, but the connotations, in my mind, are way different.

Say, while searching for an image for this post, I came across another blogger’s take on “You’re welcome,” which you can read here. (Okay, you’ll see I snagged the image from someone else’s blog. Guilty as charged, but the blog has some interesting info-bits in it.) Oh, you’re welcome!

There’s a new CD out that contains the real sound of Shakespearean English. Surprisingly, it sounds more American than Henry Higgins-style British. Here’s an excerpt:

Q: I tuned in late to the discussion on WNYC about Elizabethan English, but did Pat really say Shakespeare spoke like an American? How does she know what he sounded like? I didn’t realize Francis Bacon had invented the tape recorder.

A: The short answer is that Shakespeare didn’t sound just like an American, but his accent was probably more NBC than BBC.

The interesting thing is that language, like species, evolves in different directions in two populations of critters that are split up (in this case, Brits and emigrating Brits, separated by the Atlantic Ocean). In post-Shakespearean times, the British adopted what is called Received Pronunciation. Think of the upstairs residents in “Upstairs Downstairs.” Meanwhile, the Brits who had emigrated to America retained the Original Pronunciation, which was more like modern American English, with a hint of other accents thrown in. So ironically, American English may be more authentic British English than what’s spoken by today’s Brits!

Read more here. http://www.grammarphobia.com/blog/2012/07/original-pronunciation.html.

If you’re interested in the evolution of language globally, please check out “Tower of Babel” by Rob Pennock. Fascinating!

And brush up your Shakespeare!

Here’s the evidence: a revamped website, still being perfected, for a very nice Indian restaurant at Zona Rosa. To see it, go to Swagatkc.com. The management opted for a simpler, sleeker, more up-to-date design for the revamped site, and I wrote new copy. Lifted Logic was the website development company.

If you have a chance, zip up to Swagat for their great Lunch Buffet or a casual, elegant dinner.

Occasionally, I get an e-mail from someone wondering how they can learn to write, or how to become a writer. They want me to tell them. And I really can’t. To someone who has had the urge to write since childhood, to someone for whom writing is as essential as oxygen and food, the question is puzzling. How do you learn to breathe and eat? Well, you just do. You have to in order to go on living.

Today, instead of meeting the young man for coffee, as he had suggested, I decided to write a brief response that comprised all I can possibly offer on the topic of “how to learn how to write.”

In his e-mail, the young man had indicated that college recruiters and the Web had not been helpful to him in figuring out how to learn to write. From the spelling and style of the e-mail, it seemed that a little formal training would help, as well as a working knowledge of Spell-Check. Anyway, here’s my response:

Dear _____,

I don’t know how to tell you how to learn to write. But one thing I know is that most writers start out being voracious readers. Read books and short stories and poems by great writers, and good writing will soak into you. Read everything, from ancient Greek plays to Charles Dickens’ novels to modern short stories.

Not all writers are schooled in writing, but most are. Formal learning, in a Composition or Exposition class in college or at JCCC, is an excellent basis for beginning to be a writer.

There are also books good writers have written about how to write. Stephen King has written at least one. The Elements of Style is a Bible of good writing you should read. There are many others, of course. Seek them out at the library.

Start writing. Even if what you write is terrible. And of course, it will be at first. Don’t let that stop you. Keep on writing and reading, reading and writing. Take English courses, literature courses, history, art, etc. Everything you learn will help you as a writer.

Pay attention to what’s going on in the world, and especially, in your world and inside you. Be observant. Write about what you see, hear, smell, taste and feel. Keep a journal. Write in it every day.

Really, this is the best advice I can give you. Good luck!

Best wishes,
Liz

When you say, “Rover, roll over!” if he’s trained to do so, he’ll roll his body over. Simple enough. But there is a heck of a lot of confusion among humans over “roll over,” “rollover,” and even “Rollover,” and how to use those words in regard to finances. I’ll admit it is a little tricky, but here’s a quick primer (pronounced “primmer,” not “prymer,” as some national announcers, who shall remain nameless, have begun saying).

1. There’s “roll over” as when you turn on your side to avoid snoring.
2. Then there’s “roll over,” which is what you do to money when you cleverly extract your 401(k) money and magically transfer it into a different 401(k) or an IRA without it going into your hands, thus avoiding paying taxes on it.

3. Then there’s “rollover,” which is what you’ve done. You can even have a Rollover IRA.

To sum it all up:

Need a financial adviser? Don't pick this guy.

• “Roll over” is a verb form used to request a physical action, as in “Roll over, sweetie, you’re snoring.”
• “Roll over” is also a verb form meaning, “Hey, Herb [your financial adviser]. Take money from my old 401(k) from that crazy sweatshop where I worked until they mercifully canned me, and put it into an IRA.”
• Rollover is a noun that can be used in a sentence like, “I asked Herb to do a rollover of my 401(k) money into an IRA.”
• After Herb fulfilled your request, you could say, “I have a Rollover IRA.”

So don’t ask your dog to do a rollover, or Herb to roll over for you. They just might take it the wrong way.