Author: kenthdixon

The Sentence Errors:
There are three kinds of “sentence errors” and they are called:
1) the sentence fragment
2) the run-on sentence
3) the comma splice

For number 1) the SENTENCE FRAGMENT, consider this paragraph:

First of all,(pause) you should remind yourself that a comma is a notation that represents a brief pause in the reading. (pause pause…) Whereas a period represents a longer pause, and a fresher start.
Notice that the second ‘sentence’ here–‘Whereas a period…etc.–isn’t really a complete thought, nor is it an independent clause, nor does it make sense if you read it out loud in isolation. Try it”
“Whereas a period represents a longer pause, and a fresher start.”

Uhn uhn. Therefore, it is just a part of some sentence, the rest of which has been left out.
Inotherwords, it’s a FRAGMENT of a sentence.

If you don’t believe me, go up to someone and say, “Uh, whereas a period represents a longer pause, and a fresher start.” And see what kind of reaction you get. The clause in question is dependent: it depends for its meaning on the sentence in front of it, but it has been punctuated as if it should stand by itself, with its own capital and period. But it can’t; it’s a fragment.
You’ll see fragments in good writing, but they are intentional. I ask students in English 101, that if they write a fragment intentionally, because they think it sounds better that way–and they may be right–then please put an asterisk by it (*) and
at the bottom of the page just write:
* intentional sentence error

When I’m sure they know what they’re doing, then they can do away with the asterisk. So to say, I actually encourage them to use fragments: it makes for vigorous and supple writing. It’s a stylistic step up. But ugly is ugly. Don’t make them helter-skelter just because you don’t know any better.

2) The RUN-ON error is simply the case where you neglect to put any punctuation at all between two independent sentences you just can’t do that and make good sense obviously that previous sentence as well as this one are both examples of the run-on sentence error. “Run-on” does not mean that it’s a sentence that runs on and on, like something written by Henry James or Faulkner. Those sentences may indeed run on for half a page or so, but they are not usually punctuated wrong. This is a common confusion: now you know better. “Run-on” means two or more sentences jammed into each other with no indication of where one stops and the other begins the kind of ‘running on’ in some novelists’ style is called not “run on” but periodic. James is the master of the periodic sentence. Two sentences back was a run-on, needing some kind of proper punctuation between …the other begins ; the kind of ‘running on…
That seems to me like a hard mistake to make if you’ll just read your copy aloud to yourself, perhaps the most troublesome sentence error to catch is this one, the one I just made two commas back, which leads us to:

3) the third kind of error, the COMMA SPLICE.
All “splice” means in the phrase “comma splice” is that you’ve ‘spliced’ two complete sentences together with just a comma, when in fact you need a period or a semi-colon. You can splice loose ends of two ropes together, using the smaller twinings of rope that rope is compounded of. But you can’t use a comma. That would make you a rope-a-dope. (Sorry, Ali.)

Ok, so how do spot a comma splice and how do you fix it?
Fixing is easier, let’s start there.
(Did you spot it, hunh, did you? is a comma splice.)

Just use a period and capital, or a semi-colon:

Fixing is easier . Let’s start there.
Fixing is easier ; let’s start there.

Now to make life harder: there is one place where you can connect main clauses (sentences) with commas and that’s if they’re very short: I came, I saw, I conquered.
This is the best of worlds, this is the worst of worlds.
The motion was made, the vote was taken, and tentative plans were begun.

So, alas, Fixing is easier, let’s start there. actually is ok. In fact, it’s coming to be preferred in magazines and journals

BUT,
An instructor teaches students how to think; a minister gives them spiritual guidance; and a parent inculcates love. Grammar they should learn on their own,(pause) by observing what they read.(pause pause) It can be tremendously creative. (pause) (pause) (pause)//////////////////(applause)

As for the SEMICOLON:

Just remember that a semicolon is as strong as a period (the “.” of the “;”) and yet as weak as a comma (the “,” half of the “;”). Maybe that’s confusing.

A semicolon IS a period, that’s grown a tail in order to wriggle out of being too assertive; it maintains the flow of ideas where a period might break the chain.

Dr. Askeland’s take on the semicolon is cute, if a little sexist. She’s not crazy about periods because they’re so pushy, commanding, loud, uncooth–in a word, so male. Whereas the comma, you know, it’s flighty, fickle, sort of intuitive–female? So the semicolon is just a period that’s discovered its feminine side: ;

Independent/Dependent and Phrase/Clause
I’ve been bandying about these two sets of terms. Are you clear on what they mean?

A semicolon should be used only where a period is used—BETWEEN TWO COMPLETE SENTENCES (also called ‘two independent clauses’—they are independent because they don’t
depend on any other clause; they can stand alone, these clauses; YOU CAN READ THEM OUT LOUD ALL BY THEMSELVES AND THEY’LL MAKE SENSE.

Such clauses (clause = group of related words with a subject and a verb and probably some other stuff) are complete ideas, can stand alone, are not dependent on anything else for their modicum of meaning.
They are not dendent, they are independent.

Dependent clauses, on the other hand, have all the features of independent clauses except they can’t stand alone. Whereas a period represents a longer pause and a fresher start. …from our very first example at the top, is dependent. It shouldn’t stand alone, with only a capital and a period. You can’t say it to someone and have them nod their head in agreement. It depends on some other material for its complete meaning. In our case, it depended on the previous sentence; it really should have been attached to it with a comma.

(A phrase = group of related words without a main verb. Think of prepositional phrases, noun phrases, adjective phrases, adverbial phrases. You want examples of all that? Sure you do, but notice how in each phrase below, there is no main verb. There will be verb forms, like infinitives and participles and gerunds, but these aren’t conjugated verbs. (Conjugate just means run it through the I, you, he, she/ we, you, they forms.)
To the lighthouse (a group of related words, no verb, starts with a prepostion. Guess what kind
of phrase it is.)
To greeting the alum boink lighthouse (is a group of words, plain enough, but they aren’t related)
(This is called schizophrenia. You’ll see it in weaker 101
papers. Engfish, or gobbledy-gook.)
Eating Raoul or Spanking the maid (related words, with verb-like elements–to eat, to spank–but
used only as a noun would be used, usually as subject or
object: Spanking the maid was forbidden. We avoided eating
Raoul. Noun phrases: phrases used as nouns.)
Now what’s this next one, an adjective phrase or an adverb phrase?
Climbing over the top of the mountain …

If you said you needed more information before you could identify it, like, how is it used in its sentence, it could be most anything, help…! If you said something like that, then move on to the semicolon below. You’re right. But here’s what yet others aren’t clear about:
The bear, climbing over the mountain, saw the other side. (adjective)
Climbing over the mountain was not what we had in mind. (noun)
They fell while climbing over the mountain. (adverb)
We climbing, happy huntingly, on mountain. (verb, probably a
Japanese speaker, beginning English)

No, you’re not confused. You’re tired. Come back later, or go on, below, with the sexiest part of punctuating sentences:
To be dry about it, then, the semicolon is an internal mark–never at the end–used strictly for separating co-ordinate elements, mostly main clauses. You could use a period instead. You canNOT use a comma in the same place unless you add a co-ordinating conjunction (and, but, for, or, yet, nor).

Yes, sometimes you use a semicolon to separate items in a series that have commas among them–so it becomes a kind of higher level comma: The Republican Presidential contenders in 1964 included Nelson Rockerfeller, the Governor of New York; Barry Goldwater, the Senator from Arizona; and William Scranton, the Governor of Pennsylvania.
(If you didn’t have the semicolons here, you’d mistake the appositives for the other contenders. Goldwater might be from New York or he might be from Arizona; you can’t tell unless you divide it up properly, using the semicolon versus the comma. Or, unless you’re old enough to remember that extremism in the pursuit of liberty is no vice–something a New Yorker would never say.

So, here’s what goes down: (more or less interchangeable)

Blahblah blah blah . Capital blah blah blahblah. or,
Blahblah blah blah ; little b-blah blah blahblah. or,
Blahblah blah blah , and blah blah blahbhal. (for the ‘and’ you could
have: yet, for, nor, or, but)

Here are some nice uses:
We wanted to go very badly; however, we didn’t have any money.

The food is terrible when it’s leftovers; when it’s left under; when it just should have been left elsewhere.

Our curriculum includes not only physics, but literature; not only chemistry, but art; not only philosophy, but music.

Carpentry is not the only trade in which Sam is competent; he canalso lay bricks.

This is a fairly thorough explanation, rich with examples, of the notation we use to punctuate sentences; use it, fercrissakes.

A semicolon can almost always be used correctly between independent clauses (complete sentences); the writer must decide for him or herself when the connection is close enough to call for a semicolon rather than a period.

TH’ APOSTR’ PHE
A LITTLE LESSON ON WHERE TO PUT THE APOSTROPHE TO SHOW POSSESSION,

as in John’s problem, or 2,000 students’ binging problems, or the ladies’ room or the men’s, or the little boys’ (for all the boys as opposed to all the girls), or just the one boy’s room at home, and so on.

First: You should know what an apostrophe stands for.
The apostrophe ONLY stands for a letter or letters
that have been left out, as in
’cause for because
‘course for of course
‘ lo for hello and Lo’ for Lolita or Lois
don’t for do not
isn’t for is not
he’s for he is
it’s for it is
o’clock for of the clock
I’m for I am
Let’s for Let us
O’Conner for Of Conner, as Sean of the clan Conner

These are all called contractions. Go through each one in the left hand
margin and say out loud (softly) what letter/s are being dropped, have
fallen away. [apostrophe comes from the Greek apos = away from, trophein = to fall]

None of these above examples have anything to do with possessives,
the ‘s in John’s problem.

Ok, now, here are the 2 excellent questions you should be asking:
Well, great. Why am I learning about contractions when what I’m
not clear about is possessives. Where do I put the damn appositive or
apotheosis or whatever it is–aPOStrophe!–when I’ve got Johns problem
as well as mine, or Denis ‘s or Denice ‘s or when the noun is plural like babies or
birds or women or men or mice or moose or sheep??

AND (I think I’ve got you now, Dixon), if an apostrophe is used
ONLY to indicate that a letter or letters have been left out, why do
they use it to show possession anyway? Nothing has been left out in
John’s problem,
unless that’s (contraction of that+is) what his problem’s
(problem+is==> problem’s) all about. Ha ha. Answer THAT! (Better still,
could you just tell me how to form the possessive, one simple rule?)

Lordy, would that students talked to themselves and to me this way! Yup,
I can do it all for you. One rule for forming the possessive, no one
else knows it, ‘cept me and now you. Will you remember it?

* * * * ** ***
*** TO MAKE ANY NOUN SHOW POSSESSION, JUST ADD
* APOSTROPHE S TO IT *
* * * * * * *
the problem of John ===> John ‘s problem
the problem of Dennis ==> Dennis ‘s problem
the problem of Denise ==> Denise ‘s problem
the novels of Dickens ==> Dickens ‘s novels
the novel of Dixon ===> Dixon ‘s novel
a script of the 2 Dixons=>the Dixons’s script
the Swiss family Izz, their script (there are six Izzes in the family!)
===> the six Izzes’s script

That’s all you do, just add apostrophe s to the singular noun or the plural
noun. Of course, if it SOUNDS ridiculous because of all the s’s, then
convention says, leave off the last s. Actually, it was people drowning
in other people’s expectorations that required the dropping of the final s, rather
than grammarians’ good sense. Sidle up close to someone and say:
Dickensez novels (for Dickens’s novels)
or
the writersez workshop (for writers’s workshop), or
the six Izzesez sizziling script (for Izzes’s script)

So when it’s too hard to say, as it usually is in the plural and also with some
nouns that end in s in the singular, like Jones or Jesus, then leave off that extra s and just use the
apostrophe all by itself to show possession: Jones’ Jesus is Jesus’ Jones.

the six Izzes’ goldfish
the ladies’ room
the one hundred soldiers’ helmets
the campus’ writers’ workshop
Charles Dickens’ novels
Dennis’ problem, and Denise’s
in Jesus’ name,
amen. (If you want to, go ahead and hang on to
that correllary ‘rule’ about never adding the ‘s to a plural that already
has an S, like:
ladies
monkeys
5 Nixons
3 blind mice
…that’s ok with me, but that’s the where where the confusion will
slip back in: you’ll forget that it has to be a plural with an s in the
plural form.
Try making the four plurals just above, ladies through mice, into
possessive plurals: the 29 ladies (zez) jobs
ladies’ jobs
the monkeys’ heads, the Nixons’ script, the mice’s whiskers. Are those all
correct? (Yes.)
And is that all there is to it?

No. Not quite. I haven’t answered why they use an apostrophe at all for
possessives. APOSTROPHE ALWAYS STANDS FOR LETTER/S LEFT OUT, right?
This holds true for possessives; it’s just that we’ve lost all awareness
of the form–what got left out, by whom, when, why?

actually 10 in Latin, 8 in Greek until
/ you get to advanced Greek, then it’s 12
/ ^
In Latin and Greek, / nouns have eight different endings, depending on how
they’re used in their sentence, and on whether they’re singular or plural.
If a noun is a subject (nominative case), it has a particular ending:
agricola (farmer, fem.sing.) Longa agricola est. == The farmer is tall. God knows why he’s feminine! [Maybe that’s why he’s singular. ( : ]

If the noun shows possession (genetive case), it’s agricolae:
Filius agricolae longus est. The farmer’s son (the son of the farmer: filius agricolAE) is tall.

If the noun is the object of the verb, it’s agricolAM:
Filius agricolam pugnavit. The son punched out the farmer. (Not for the above reasons:
in Rome, sexual ambiguity no problem.)

And so on, five case endings for singular nouns, five more for plural.

Some modern languages still carry this burden, though generally all language
tends toward simpler forms, so these case endings tend to drop off, as they
did in French and Italian, and Spanish, all of which at one time looked a lot
like the Latin, and in fact, at an even earlier time, WERE Latin. German has
case endings today; so does Russian. Such languages with changing endings on
the nouns are called inflected. Linguists will talk about the inflexion of the nouns.
Our verbs are still inflected a little bit: I say, you say, he says. She inflects.

German has four inflected cases in the singular & 4 in the plural
Nominative (subject) Vogel (bird)
Genetive (possessive) Vogels
Dative (indirect object) Vogel
Accusitive (direct object) Vogelm

Guess what. English, which derives from the same ancient language as modern
day German (just the way Italian, French, Spanish, and Portuguese all derive
from Latin), once upon a time, our English, had four cases in the singular and 4 for the
plural, same as German. Maybe it was five, I forget; had to drop Old English because the
professor kept falling asleep in his own class.

So our modern English word leaf, for example, once had 8 different endings
depending on how it was used in the sentence and whether it was singular or
plural:

Nominative, singular leaf and 4 more for
Genitive (POSSESSIVE) leafes the plural
Dative (to or for the leaf) leafe – leafas –
Accusative (dir.obj.) leafum etc.

So when in Old English they wanted the meaning ‘of the leaf,’ as in
the color of the leaf or the leaf’s color
all they had to say or write was leafes, the genitive singular of leaf
(pronounced LAY AFF for leaf, and LAY AFF ESS for leafes).
The leafes color wast puurdy reed, sav whar ye catyrpel hath feed.

That little ‘e’ in there, in LEAFeS, wasn’t stressed much, but the S was
necessary to indicate the genitive (possessive) case, so gradually people quit
saying lay-AFF-ess (leafes) and just said lay-affs (for leafes), but if they
weren’t careful, they’d never know the difference, when it came to writing,
between leafS (the pronunciation of the genitive singular) and leafs,
the pronunciation AND spelling of the nominative plural. So the monks, the
only ones that could write and therefore worry about such things, put an
apostrophe in the possessive form to indicate there had once been an e there
and that you still had the possessive case: leafes ==> leaf ‘s
The apostrophe still standing, then, for something left out. ‘

There were other forms for the possessive, difference declensions of nouns and
so on, but people are lazy and lauguage reflects that, and eventually ‘s
was used for all possessives, whether singular or plural, whether the
word ended in s, like bliss or Moses or moss; and then the ear entered in:
Mosesez (Moses’s), mossesez (mosses’s) were difficult and splattery to say,
so if the word ended in s, they just let the apostrophe stand for both the
`e’ and the `s’: Moses’ tablets Jesus’ sake moss’ color
the leaf’s veins
the leaves’ odors as they burn

Natch, not everyone was consistent, so now both forms co-exist:
Denis’ problem or Denis’s problem
so no wonder practioners of the written language get confused: it looks as if
there’s no order or logic at all. But there IS history: you’re learning it.

Tess’ full name is Theresa; or,
Tess’s full name is Theresa. Mo’ is short for Maureen, Jo’ for Joann.
Mr. Izz’s syzygy, and the rest of the Izzes’ zygotes. That’s their Achilles’ heel.

John’s money is running out, but the ho’ filched six johns’ wallets.
It’s (it+is) six o’clock, by the clock’s hands.
–Which clock, there are hundreds of them!
–All the clocks’ hands, all hundred of ’em.
–Well, for Jesus’ sake, would you kindly set them?
–Why for Jesus’ sake? There were no clocks in Jesus’s time.
— Well, if not for Jesus’ sake, what about for goodness’ sake, or, if you really want to throw
up the hands in despair, for conscience’ sake!
(You can see, clearly, how dependant that one is, for conscience’s sake, on sound, for its spelling.)

[We’re getting into the range now that confuses even English professors: which
form would you say is correct: Who else’s should it be? or,
Whose else should it be?
(actually, technically, keeping to ‘else’ as an adverb, which it is, the proper form should
be: Whose should it be else? )

So, it’s hopeless, right? You were right all along: You’ll never learn.

No. Just remember my one rule and then trust your EAR (not your mind or memory,
just your EAR and tongue and saliva and natural disinclination to spit on others):
IF THE NOUN IS POSSESSIVE, ADD APOSTROPHE S.
(Corrollary: If you spray all over the page trying to say it, if your tongue stumbles
over the extra syllable, if you find yourself using your tie somewhat too informally,
then leave off that S, use just the apostrophe alone.)
That’s it. But it helps if you know the history.
There’s a footnote to this but I’ll put it down there where footnotes belong, and you don’t have to read it.*

It’s / its ~ which is possessive, which contraction?
Finally, do get the difference between its and it’s, please!
It’s so ignorant to confuse these two. It will cost you jobs, advances,
rejections, and perhaps love**, if you don’t know it’s from its.
[The form ” its’ ” does not exist, so expunge it from visual memory.
It comes about as an over-correction from those that can’t distinguish its/it’s. Hey, at least they’re thinking.
,
And don’t think you can get away with its anymore.

But since you now know what an apostrophe stands for (a letter left out), you
can tell which form is the contraction of it + is,
which leaves you the other form for the possessive its.

Here’s another aid: NO POSSESSIVE PRONOUN, which
is what ‘its’ is, takes an apostrophe (with ‘one’ exception).
By definition, a possessive pronoun (his, her, its, our, their, your, my) is a pronoun that’s IN the
possessive case. It’s already possessive; you don’t have to do anything to it. Just play it as it lays.
Just the way LAY-AFFess had a possessive case, so do pronouns, built into the spelling of the word.

Subject pronouns: I, you (sing. and plural), he, she, it, we, they [Throw in who.]
Make these pronouns object pronouns: me, us, him, her, it us, them [Comes out whom.]
Now go to the possessive case: possessive pronouns:
Your book my glasses her fan his warthog their attitude our pal
The FORM of the little word (his/her/its/my/our) is already possessive.
No apostrophe s is needed, and in fact, it’s (it is) incorrect to put one in.

Want a rule? If it’s a possessive pronoun, it won’t have an apostrophe. This goes for those possessive pronouns that absorb the noun they’re owning up to: It’s my pig. It’s mine.
Sad to say, most of the time possessive pronouns work as if they modify the noun they’re owning.
But they can stand alone, too: mine, ours, his, hers, its, theirs, yours
If it’s a possessive pronoun standing alone, it won’t have an apostrophe either.

Recap:
I + am ==> I’m (the a drops out) (the apostrophe stands for the dropped a )
I + would ==> I’d (the woul’ drops out) I’d like to go, but I’ve got to eat.
I + have ==> I’ve (Hey! There goes the ‘ha’!)
he + is ==> he’s He’s a shmuck.
she + is ==> she’s So is she. She’s worse, in fact. Schmuckess.

IT + IS ==> IT’S IT’S RAINING OUT AS I WRITE THIS. IT’S NICE. THE FLOWERS ARE TITTERING. EXECPT THERE’S A MISERABLE SOGGY DOG HUDDLING BENEATH MY WINDOW, AND
I can smell his wet fur. If indeed IT’S a he. If it’s a
she, I think it’s maybe a shee’, for sheep, is the way [Kevin art: shaggy dog]
it smells. I hate ITS smell, its sadsack eyes, its
rusty bell, or hers, or his, or its. Whose smell is
it then? It’s its!

it’s <==== it + is (a contraction) [Now, want me to screw up everything? How about the pronoun 'one'================> one ? ?
Yup, sad to say, the apostrophe comes back in:
one’s choices are not just one’s alone…
Though it used to be spelled ones ! As I said, most of your profs would miss
this one, that one’s degree just a couple hundred years ago, was spelled ones degree

Still, after all this, you have only one rule, with one corollary, and
that’s not so bad, especially if you have a notion of the history of
the form itself, and realize that ‘rules’ are descriptive and therefore
will reflect some of that history, which at times will make them appear
downright arbitrary.

[The form LET’S by the way, as in, Let’s go, is a contraction, but of
what? Let + us ==> let’s But I bet you knew that. Let us go = Let’s go, then, you and I, and

Try this:
How many of the forms are wrong in the following paragraph:

It’s getting late, and the monster’s going to come out when the sun
sets. Let’s get out of here. Even if the monster is British and so relatively ‘armless, its
feet stink! –Too bad it’s not footless as well as ‘armless, uh huh huh.
–I said h’armless, not ARMless.
–I knows. ‘ere’s to ya’ an’way, Johnny.
–G’bye, Monster! See you at seven o’clock sharp. We’d best be off, now…

[All those apostrophes, are they all correct?] Did you know that OK is
supposed to be a (humorous) printer’s contraction of All Correct? OK for A(ll)
C(orrect). No humor like old humor, eh? There are other theories about it too, though. OK? ‘k.

* This is that footnote I promised. I don’t recommend wading through it, but I have to write because I spent all this time firguring it out!
If you go ask an English Professor where/why the apostrophe comes to indicate possession., you’ll get a lot of evasion.
But sometimes you’ll get some knowledge. Give it a try:
Like, what got left out, Dr. ____, when you put an apostrophe for the possessive in Russell’s son. ??
Many of them will squirm and try this on you: Once back in the jolly olde days, they said my
Lord Russell his son, and the apostrophe stands for the dropped his.
The king his crown ==> the king ‘s crown
That’s got some truth to it, but it’s wrong. So, be sure to bet them first.
Then show them ye olde diary of Henry Machyn, kept between 1550 and 1563, right around when Shakespeare is being born.
Henry writes, about a funeral: …and after the chariot [came] a great horse draped in cloth of gold, with the saddle…
…and after the charet a gret horse trapyd in cloth of gold with the sadyll of the sam; and then cam mornars, the cheyffe (of whom my lord Russell ys sune, and after my lord trayssorer, and the mast of the horse, and…. ^ See this
little ys?
And that weird little ys up there got confused, in grammars and in impossibly learned heads, got confused for the
genetive third person pronoun: his So plenty of people think the possessive came from
the king his son ==> the king’s son

But in fact, there was a genitive inflexion -ys (which is our Old English -es, as in leafes) that found its way to becoming a syntactical marker of possession if you could attach it to groups. So, Henry Machyn got it wrong, too, because Lord Russell’s son wasn’t a group, but poor Henry hailed from south west Yorkshire, and was a kind of immigrant in London. What did he know!

What gets left out is the Old English genitive inflection, -es . Johanes bodkin => John’s bodkin

love**
Footnote the second, about losing love if you confuse its/it’s. My mother is always correcting my grammar when I speak colloquially. I’d sound like an idiot if I followed her rules– Knock, knock…
–Who’s there? –It’s I. That sort of nonsense, but correct me she does and I love her a little less for it, or at least condescend a little more. She is sweet.

h is for hyphen and d is for dash, and to write one for the other causes a
misreading as irritating as a typo or an ignorant mistake, like your for you’re, or its for it’s.
An exercise: In the purple sentence just below, a line of dialogue, their is only one
punctuation mistake, but it causes a glitch for an experience reader, so its time to get it write.
But before you go find it, the one punctuation misstake or mispelling, notice 1st how annoying the last seven glitches in this paragraph have been. {there, experienced, it’s, right, mistake, misspelling, 1st}

If you didn’t notice any of these in the above paragraph, run don’t walk to the nearest Writers’ Workshop and begin to get your literate self together. The language isn’t going to go away and it isn’t going to change much in your favor (alot maybe someday, and lie/lay confusions have just about changed), but in the main, it’s yours for life. Ask yourself: are ewe going to be an affective eweser of it and its’ written codes, or are you going to let it work against you, all life long? (See Rules, for discussion of how non-standard English can and will be used against you.)

Now, where’s the glitch in this line of dialogue:
“Anita, I’m a’finished, I’m a’done-try to keep the room somewhat liveable, okay? Hey, are those what you bought? Let me see!”

What’s a “done-try”? That’s the way it reads: a DONEtry, causing a quick going-back by the reader. How many of those do you think you can unload on an editor, or indeed, some poor old abused English prof? [The hypen ( – ) used in place of a dash ( — ) is the only mistake, in purple Anita above.]

The point: don’t use a hyphon where you mean to use a dashe.

The hyphen
A hypen is one of those little half-raised horizonal lines, looking a lot like a minus sign: -/+

The hypen is used to join combination words together: twenty-one, English-French dictionary, a holier-than-thou attitude, a fly-by-night course, the fly-on-the-wall point of view, co-ordinating con- junctions (used there to split the word at one of its possible syllable breaks). A half-assed joke, a well-heeled family, a long-standing contract, at half-hour intervals, one-twentieth, even one-third (though that’s dropping out), an up-to-date computer, a good-to-go meal, Saturday-morning soccer practice, and so on. A so-on-and-so-forth sort of guy.
Compound adjectives are a lot of fun really; just be brave and make some: a word-mongering, brain-splitting, two-fisted, ball-busting bit of fun. A bit-of-fun type guy. But take note: compound adjectives that follow the noun they modify usually do not take the hypen: The up-to-date computer is certainly up to date. (no hypens, when it follows what it modifies). The masseur is well qualified, the point of view is like that of a fly on the wall.

The dash
The dash is a magnificent piece of punctuation, and it is indicated by typing in two hyphens in a row, smack up next to each other, with no spaces on either side–like this. Word Perfect will even grab those two hypens and make a dash out of them for you, a single slightly longer dash. Very handsome.
So it shouldn’t — mind you — be spread out like this, and the “short form” – the hypen – won’t do either, unless you’re Emily Dickinson.
This notation–the dash–is a real favorite of sophisticated writers. It’s quite emphatic and can’t really be used indiscriminately in place of commas or periods. It captures the mind in action, and you come close to looking into the writer’s eyes when he or she uses it. ( – :
Basically, the dash indicates a sudden break or interruption in thought:

Last Friday–no, it was the Friday before–he gave us the essay part of the exam.

There was a time–but let’s forget the past. Tell me about your new project, Bill.

The panel deliberated for two hours–with what result?

You can also use it like commas to set off an appositive that has commas within it:
The hero of the novel had a respect for the heroic virtues–fortitide, resolution, magnanimity.

You can use it to emphasize an appositive that would usually have commas setting it off:
There is only one person in the entire sorority that she admires–herself.

You can use it–hell, forget the rules; just absorb the examples:

A college education–if you leanr how to apply it–will insure success.

At that moment I was interested in just one thing–namely, my lunch.

Many professions–for example, medicine, pharmacy, law, and dentistry–requre an unusual degree of education.

The main thing is–and you should start doing this for all these ‘rules’–start noticing examples of these punctuation marks in your reading; create that feed-back loop: it’s how we learn–by matching.

If your unsure about ap’strophes, & dont know that its a tipoff that your a compleat moroon if you’re own personal its comes with an apostrophe at the end, after the s, then go to (k) possessives, and find out their why they’re are simple syntactical reasons for the way possessive pronouns are spelled, and also that thair is only one either/or rule for all possessive nouns. Just one! (with a tiny correllary)
[And if you don’t now have a headache from the confusions of there/their/they’re/thair and your/you’re just above,
you might think about banging your head on a wall until you do.]

Meanwhile, most likely, the source of confusion for those that aren’t quite sure where to put the apostrophe to show a contraction, like from do not => don’t, and where to put an apostrophe that’s used to show possession, Mary’s lamb, all has to do with the apostrophe itself. An apostrophe is an apostrophe, right? Standing for… …? What does an apostrophe stand for again?

Really, answer that: The apostrophe stands for __ ______ __ __ _____ __ __ ______ __ ______
(Try it. Fill in those blanks.) Hint: a letter or a word or a group of words

The apostrophe stands for a letter or a word or a group of words that
has been left out. Omitted. Dropped from the page. Kapoof!

The time is twelve o’clock. What got left out in o ‘ clock ? (Answer: the hour hand, because it’s hidden by the minute hand.) (Humor.) What about three o’clock, then?
It’s three of the clock, or on the clock. And it got said so fast so often that the of the turned into a sort of half-blubber, three o’duh clock, and finally–this can take centuries–it was both pronounced and then finally represented on paper (“spelled”) with just the o’ : It’s three o’f the clock.
That group of words is said to have contracted, down to what was being said. Also true of:
don’ot couldn’ot isn’ot can’not wasn’ot ’cause (for be’cause) He’is She’is
They’are It’is —-whoa! There’s our little demon. It’s is a contraction of it is.
And, in fact, all these contractions center around the short everyday auxillary verbs–is/was are/were should/could/would have/had All those come from just two verbs–to be, and to have.
It’s cool. He’s ok. She’d had her nap already. They’re very happy. I haven’t been listening. You weren’t either, but you should’ve been. But I can’t. It is a problem: it’s a big problem.

It’s is a contraction of the tiny verb clause, it is. The other its, as in my cat, its whiskers; the storm,
its thunder; our love, it’s dead. Versus, our love, its purity.

It’s = It + is (with the i from is dropped out)
my our
its = a possessive pronoun, in the same family with: your your
his,her,its their
‘
its’ and its These are really bad. The first one is stupid: it means you don’t know
diddle about possessive pronouns or about contractions, and the second
one, where the apostrophe hovers above the s somewhere, put it where
you like, dear Reader… that one is sort of cute. But readers can tell. You’re
not getting away with nothin.

It’s a mildly charming fudge to spell its or it’s with the apostrophe sort of
hanging above the s, maybe to the right of it, maybe to the left, but apostrophes stand
for letters left out, so really its best rendition would be: it’
But that sort of looks like ‘it, if you get what I mean.

You really want to know? I’m lying down now as I type this, with my keyboard lying on my lap. I’m not lying to you; this is really the way everyone should work–feet up, lying there contentedly, spinning out lies (truths, too, let’s hope). I was lying here yesterday, too, in fact, wondering what lies I could tell my father. I lay there for a long time, and after I had lain there to the point that my legs began to atrophy–no lie!–I remembered I had laid the rug on the stove to dry it out.
So, more lies. “Uhh, it fell from the ceiling, Dad?”
Actually, I love lying here lying to my father, because he likes to lie around telling whoppers, too. That’s where I get it from. My favorite is the one about the rooster that tried to mount a chicken while she was roosting there laying an egg. I forget the details but the punch line goes something like: ‘So which one got laid first, the chicken or the egg?’
“Did you lay the rug out on the stove?” he asks me, interrupting my reverie.
“No, sir.” [a blatant lie, right?]
“Well, I didn’t think so because if you did I’d lay you out–bam! Flat.”
He wouldn’t do that. He’s lying. So am I, really, both down and to my father. But one of these days I just may put lye in his sugar bowl, though right now I’m off to play my lyre. Or maybe I’ll just read, some lais by Marie de France or something.
(Ha! I’m such a liar. You should see my collection of leis from Hawaii sometime.) (That one was poor. Well, I’m not a pro like my dad; you can’t expect too much from a lay-liar, laying his head on his elbow, lying out in the sun where he lay yesterday for three hours, thinking about golf. You know what’s coming: play it as it lays.*)

Okay, go back and click on all the ones you know are wrong–where lie and lay have been confused either in their present tense or past. [beat] How many? [beat, beat]

I’m waiting, lying around waiting. . . . . . [Beat, beat, beat, beat, …. ]

Ok. All the ones you picked as wrong… you’re wrong. Read on.
If you didn’t pick any as wrong just because you know me too well, still read on.
If you saw that they were all correct, then you are rare among men and women and will probably work in some kind of literary field. Really. As editor or publisher or writer. And, get out of this file and go on to some other. Meet you where the lay of the land meets the lie of the eye. Laying the laity is not proper for the lay-preacher, more for the laymen under the layette. In the lea of the immense laths with their first coat of laying. I’ll lay you a wager that she laid him out with one low lieing lay. Or she should have. Leave it lay, Kent; or is it lie?

Meanwhile, for the rest of us (I’m hearing it wrong so much these days that on occasion I have to factor it down to see which verb I’m using), here’s how the confusion comes about, and knowing this will help you keep the two verbs straight; so at least if you make the effort, you can figure out which form of which verb is correct. Of course, this is going to take a quick history in morphology.

Discussion/Explanation of the Confusion

You may have already read, under Possessives, how nouns used to have in Old English some eight or ten forms–one for plural, one for possessive, another for when it was the subject, yet another when used as object of verb or preposition: they all had different endings, depending on how used in the sentence.
Well, verbs did this too, and they still do. We don’t use the same form of the verb to indicate past time as we do to indicate present time. I talk too much vs. I talked all last night. I run the mile vs. I ran it in under five minutes, in my dream last night.

But there aren’t eight of these for verbs; there are only three: a present tense form, a simple past tense form (talked, ran), and a past participial form (used with have or had: I have run this race for the last time). Spread out across time, it looks like:

present tense form past tense form past participle form
I dig it. I dug it yesterday. I have dug it a lot in the past.
dig dug (have) dug
run ran (have) run
sing sang (have) sung
bring brought (brang is XX) (have) brought (brung)
kiss kissed (have) kissed
talk talked (have) talked

See any patterns here? Notice the -ed’s? Verbs that form their simple past tense forms by adding -ed smack onto the present form, are called regular verbs. They also call these weak verbs. They’re by far the most common. Like, talk, climb, fork, hoodwink, kiss, piss, grouse, animadvert, tergiservate, screw, collude, pit (but not sit), cause, tense, change, hope, knock, rock, sock, stock, block, hock, defrock, mock, top, stop, pop, lock, haze, skate, bake. . . what about make? Take?

But some verbs form their past tense forms via an internal vowl change, like sing/sang, drink/drank,
and compared with the regular verbs, these are irregular, and are called strong verbs.

Some verbs are so irregular that they’re hopeless. They are the most common ones: they got knocked around the most:
be (am/are/is) was/were (have) been

Now–finally!–the verb to lie, as in to lie down, lie on the floor, or just lie there bored and exhausted,
is a strong verb. (Meaning what? Meaning look for an internal vowel change in the past tense.)

lie lay lain
The babe lies asleep in his manger. He lay there yesterday, too. He’s lain there so long I
fear he’s dead.
[It’s ok: some say he was resurrected.]
You can see the problem: the past tense form of to lie is identical to the present tense form of to lay, as in to lay a carpet on the floor. I lie on the floor where I always lay my carpet. I lay on the floor yesterday, where I lay my carpet every damn day.

Ah, ha! But here’s the tip off. Notice that one of them takes a carpet, or an egg, or tiles, or a foundation. One of them will always, always, always take a direct object:
It lays an egg. I lay a carpet. She laid the foundation yesterday. We have laid the tiles twice now.
Whereas the other verb, to lie, won’t ever, ever, ever, no never, take a direct object. It’ll take plenty of adverbial stuff, who doesn’t?
I lie down. The bird lies there dead. We were lying in front of the TV when dad walked in. We were lying there yesterday, too, for mom. We’ve lain there in front of that TV so often that the tiles that we laid there last summer are worn away. [None of these things coming after the verb are direct objects: they don’t receive the action of the verb, they just tell you more about the verb–where, how, how much.]

So, here they are:

lie lay (have) lain

lay laid (have) laid

See the pattern:

to lie — lay —
to lay lay — —

To lay is a transitive verb: takes a direct object.
To lie is an intransitive verb: can’t take a direct object.

The simple past tense (the perfect) of to lie looks exactly like the present tense of to lay.

The past participles of each of these is different: laid and lain.

So maybe that’s how to keep them straight: remember which one takes an object and which one doesn’t, provided you can remember the three forms for each.
lie lay lain versus lay laid laid

So how remember which one takes the object, lie or lay ?

Well, you don’t lie a carpet, right? Nor an egg. Nor any person, place, or thing. So it must be the other one.

Well, okay, sue me, cause I’m going to tell you how I worked it out in the 9th grade at my all-boys prep school. The teacher might being going on about transitive and intransitive, weak and strong, regular and irregular, chickens and eggs, but I said to myself: Okay, LAY takes an object, like getting laid (a sex object, by golly, a partner). LIE is what you do when you don’t have a
partner. You lie about it.

Back in prepschool, after I’d laid me down to sleep, I still used to lie there awake thinking, if I would just lay down my pride for once… well… Maybe not. I’d probably still get laid out by the rest of the guys’ skepticism, and then just lie there for days (my spirit), lying on its stomach, laying to rest my reputation as a hot shot. If only I’d have laid it all out in front of me like this I wouldn’t have lain there half the night thinking if only I’d gone to school in Hawaii. Don’t you get a free lei as you get off the plane?

* to play it as it lays, in golf
This would seem to prove me wrong. The ball is just lying there, right? On a tangent with the earth. One should play it as it lies.
Maybe golfers are just such nouveaux riches that they don’t know any better, and the Country Clubs have closed ranks around their solecisms. 19th Hole, after all! It’s against nature.
In fact, I think it’s an intransitive use of to lay. (I know, I know, I told you it was transitive (always takes an object), and it is most of the time, but consider:
Lay on, Macduff!
Lay aft, mates. And you in the sails, lay aloft.
This hen is a great layer, and she laid this morning as usual.
I’ll lay you a wager. I’ll lay as he never even showed up. (trans and intrans)
Odysseus shouted to his men to lay to their oars, or be eaten by Scylla.
The suitors laid in waiting for Telemachus’ boat, in the strait between Ithaca and the mainland.
They laid into me with much verbal abuse.
We laid over in Paris for three days, alas.
In the fray, she laid about her with a fury unsurpassed.
To get laid, actually, as in somebody or other got laid last night. Good thing they were married.

And to play it as it lays, comes from a verb use of a noun formed out of this intransitive sense of the verb as per many of the examples above: the lay, as in the lay of the land–the way in which something is situated, the position it’s in, how it’s arranged. To play it as it lays means you can’t move the ball: you’re stuck with the position it’s in, up against a tree or whatever.

And, now, along with anybody who’s gotten this far, now I lay me down to sleep.

You know I don’t enjoy the ugliness of life; I’m not intrigued by it. I am, however, intrigued by the affect it has on people.

The sound of rain has a weird affect on me: sleep, sadness, and micturation.

The effect of the explosion was to effect everyone with radiation.

In the three examples above, affect and effect are switched in every case but one. That is, where it says effect, it should say affect, and vice-versa, with one exception. Which is the exception? Highlight it with your mouse. What is the effect, or result, of highlighting it with your mouse? No effect? That’s because I don’t know how to effect such a reaction, given my technophobia.

For the record, both words exist as nouns, and both as verbs. So we have four meanings to play with, but really only three because one is very rare and specific. So let’s start there, with the noun:

NOUN USES OF EFFECT

An effect just means a result. What was the result of looking up the word, what was the effect on the class? For one thing, they learned that it comes from the Latin e or ex, meaning out, and the verb facere, meaning to do, which doesn’t help much. The Latin effectus comes from efficere which means to bring to pass, to accomplish, which is much better as our noun an effect means a-thing-accomplished, a consequence, a result.
What is the effect on a reader of a page mottled over with glitches?

NOUN USE OF AFFECT

The psychiatrist said the patient manifested a very flat affect, never showing any emotion at all.

This use of affect as a noun is rare, relative to the number of times you’ll see an effect meaning a result. The affect means the psychological/emotional disposition of someone–they have high affect, or low affect. Eyore would be low affect; Tigger high. The term is fairly scientific, pretty much confined to Psychology, thereapists reports, and mental institutions
Since it is rare, occuring about 5% as compared with an effect(90+%), then use that fact to your advantage. If your word is going to go into a noun slot, then go with effect. You’ll be right 19 out of 20 times.

Try it with our opening examples: (fill in the blank with affect or effect)
You know I don’t enjoy the ugliness of life; I’m not intrigued by it. I am, however, intrigued by
the _______ that it has on people.
(noun)

The sound of rain has a weird _______ on me: sleep, sadness, and micturation.
(noun)

The ________ of the explosion was to _______ everyone with radiation sickness.
(noun) (verb)

Answer: Wherever it says ” _________” up above, write in the noun effect .
(noun)

Guess what. You were just right 100%. The noun affect didn’t even occur. Very rare.
But what about that last blank: the effect of the explosion was to ________ everyone with rads.
(verb)

VERB USE OF AFFECT
to affect = to influence to act upon to produce an effect in (heh heh)
the effect of the explosion was to affect everyone with rads.

This verb to affect or influence is many times more common than the verb use of effect, which means to bring about, to cause to happen, to produce as a result, to accomplish.

His belligerant manner affected (influenced) us all adversely; so we thought about getting rid of him, leaving him outside in the subzero weather.
The absence of heat, as you know, affects the body. It begins to freeze. And freezing tissue will effect (bring about) the termination of life; that is, it would eventuate in his death. So we dragged the affectless bastard (low affect, cold, very cold) outside, and leaned him against the gate post, an effective deterrent to the little boys that kept putting dead alots in our mailbox. To our surprise, this had a charming effect: a weathered old cigar store Indian leaning there, a feckless dummy in effect.

to affect = to influence This one will be used approx. 20 times to every 5 times for effect.
to effect = to bring about, cause to happen, to produce

an effect = a result, a consequence This ratio is more like 20:1
an affect = an emotional disposition, an emotion or mood as a factor in behavior, a flat affect

[Kevin art. Give me an alot]

The Alot [Alotis Americanus]

I really like you alot, mom.

Try to get rid of this? It’s incorrect. It’s wrong. The word is two separate words: a lot

A lot of people misspell this one, even the wealthy ones that can buy a lot with a building on it without batting an eyelash. That’s their lot in life. Tough. But you can be smarter if not richer.
Yes, yes, I admit: it’s misused a lot. And someday it will probably come around to being acceptedly spelled as one word, just like always (formerly all ways), and already (all ready not so long ago). Ok? Alright is marginal: all right? But for now, alot looks like shit on a page to anyone that’s moderately literate.

Most anyone can show you an ocelot in an animal book, but I defy you to show me an alot, as in: I want alot, with sprinkles on top.
Parse it: I = subject
want = verb
alot = what, a direct object? Therefore a noun, an alot? A sandwich? (an alot of balogna?)
with = preposition
sprinkles = noun phrase, object of the preposition ‘with’

Maybe the best reminder to yourself is for about the next year, every time you want to use the phrase a lot, to mean ‘mucho of something’, throw in the hole.
What? whole
Throw in the whole, right smack dab in the middle of the phrase: a lot
^
That should help a whole lot. To keep you from spelling it as one word. Unless you need
awholelot more help than I can give you. Really, it should help more than alittle.

In conclusion, it is the lot of the lottery winner to own a WHOLE lot of lots, some developed, some not, not a lot of them anyway. But none of them, developed or wild, is a perserve for the non-existant animal, visually related to the ocelot, called the North American alot, distinguised from its South American cousin soley by the sprinkles on top.

[Art: Kevin. A North American
alot doing alittle work.]

These are all the same “rule.” In short, that rule is, read it out loud to yourself and where you find yourself stopping, or pausing, to indicate that pause to another reader (pause) , just put down a comma.

That’s all commas are: they’re stops, or rests, as in a musical score. They’re telling other readers to pause when they read it, to get the clearest meaning. They’re how you get the spoken voice into the written
reproduction of it. That is the way you want to go, for a natural flexible writing voice–make it like the human speaking voice, with a few pull-backs from informality, slang, and so on. So, do it with commas.

To read about this in more detail, and actually go through a training session without even knowing it,
click on:

the secret of commas

Meanwhile, to get John and uhm and yes we have no bananas too straight with their surrounding commas, here’s what they should look like:

Any time you’re talking directly to someone, Mary Lou, you need to put the commas down around their name. This goes for you, too, John.

Well, that should just about do it.
Uh, do what?
That should cover the bases, shouldn’t it? Nouns of direct address: set ’em off with commas.
Little hems and haws, and yeses and nos, set them off, too.

Yes, we have no bananas, we have no bananas today.
Oh, no, John, no, John, no, John, no. My father was a Spanish captain. Was yours? No, John, he wasn’t. He wasn’t even Spanish, I don’t think. Was he, Mom?