Grammar.
Defined as ‘…the whole system and structure of a language or of languages in general, usually taken as consisting of syntax and morphology (including inflections) and sometimes also phonology and semantics.’
If the thought of grammar, as in ‘good grammar’ in itself doesn’t come across as a little intimidating at the best of times, then that definition will.
Syntax?
Morphology?
Inflections?
Phonology and Semantics?
When the definition of something has you reaching for the dictionary for want of a further explanation, then you know you have a bit of a challenge on your hands.
Most people expect writers to have a masterful command of grammar. After all, we do write for a living-you’d expect a doctor to have a similarly magisterial command of medicine or an electrician to know his or her way around a circuit board, so it surely follows that writers are apex predators when it comes to all things grammatical?
Not always.
My command of the English language, spoken and written is very good indeed. I wouldn’t be doing what I do if it wasn’t.
But I wouldn’t say my command of grammar is at the absolute peak of the pyramid.
That’s why wherever you find a writer, there will always be a proof-reader not far away.
Now their mastery of grammar, often in more than one language is usually about as good as it gets.
And it needs to be. Given the task of reading through a manuscript that can be anything from 80,000 to over 100,000 words long, their attention to detail has to be absolutely forensic.
No recalcitrant semi-colon should be able to hide from their ever watchful eye nor a misplaced apostrophe or ellipsis lacking in the approved number of dots (which, incidentally, is three).
They also know what a gerund* is and how to use it.
But that doesn’t mean I am lazy when it comes to the language or some of the (bad) habits that, in the manner of a Jackson Pollock painting, appear in so much contemporary writing today.
Because there are a few that are unforgivable and which, rest assured, will suffer a swift fate via any editing I do on a manuscript long before it even reaches the proof-reader.
One of which is the overuse of the exclamation mark.
Listen. Don’t use them. They’re not needed.
Exclamation points are like shouting when you are writing. If you communicate by shouting all of the time, it loses its effect-people will soon learn to take no notice of you.
It’s the same with the constant use of exclamation marks in your writing. Whatever the point is you are making, your words and/or dialogue should be strong enough to stand out without the ubiquitous ‘!’ (or, even worse, ‘!!’ –or more) being thrown into the mix to emphasise the point.
Your writing should do that for you on its own.
When they are used sparingly, they add emphasis and highlight strong emotions.
Overusing them makes everything sound equally loud and dramatic, diluting the impact.
Now, that doesn’t mean you should send them to your literary room 101.
They certainly have, for example, their uses when you are writing dialogue.
So, with dialogue in mind, consider their use (sparingly) when you want a character to express genuine surprise, excitement, anger, or other strong feelings.
‘Wow, that was amazing!’ or ‘Get out of here!’. They can also be used to emphasise forceful commands, for example, ‘Stop! or ‘Don't touch that!’ whilst interjections like ‘Ouch!’ or "Hurrah! often end with exclamation marks added.
Homer Simpson couldn’t yell ‘Doh’ without an exclamation mark being used. Without it, those three letters look like a typo.
But with it?
‘Doh!’. See what I mean? It. Just. Fits.
But still be sparing with them. Think of your exclamation marks as like using spices in cooking-a little adds flavour and adds a touch of mystery but too much will overpower the dish and render in inedible.
Another contemporary habit I find more and more writers are falling into, is the overuse of the adverb ‘literally’.
For me, it’s a nine letter long exclamation mark.
Which means it should only be called upon if it is going to be used correctly.
And not, much like the explanation mark, as a symptom of excess wordage.
Here are some examples.
‘it was literally raining’.
‘I have literally just left to go to work’.
‘I am literally getting into my car now’.
In those three examples, the use of ‘literally’ in the sentence is pointless. It adds nothing, it means nothing.
Look at the examples again. Now take that offending nine letter long exclamation mark out.
‘It was raining’.
‘I have just left to go to work’.
‘I am getting into my car now’.
They all convey the same message.
Plus they are shorter, neater and more compact.
If you are going to use the word ‘literally’ then do so whilst remembering its definition. That is, if something is literally happening.
So, for example, if it’s raining and you say, ‘It is literally raining cats and dogs out there’ then it most definitely is not-unless cats and dogs are, in reality, falling from the sky.
THEN it is ‘…literally raining cats and dogs’.
If it’s just the usual wet stuff then its ‘…raining cats and dogs’ – the well known idiom used to suggest that it is raining very heavily-but not, in this case, ‘literally’ cats and dogs.
Isn’t the language (and not literally) wonderful?
*A gerund is a verb form that acts like a noun in a sentence-it’s been explained as a verb wearing a noun hat. So, for example, a gerund can be formed by adding ‘-ing’ to the base form of a verb (eg) walk to walking or sing to singing.
