I’ve got an object lesson for you today, so let’s start with a story:

I recently bought a new camera (a Nikon D40 DSLR, which I love, thank you), but I’m irritated with Adorama camera. Even though we’re in different states, they charged me sales tax. I sent an e-mail to amazon.com who agreed that it should not have been charged, but that I’d need to contact Adorama directly, which I did. Now, I’m all kinds of happy with my actual order and I can’t fault their order fulfillment, but . . . my God, who do they have doing their customer service??

This is the reply I got back (with misspellings, bad typing, and multi-colors intact):

I am really sorry, but every one have to pay sales taxes, the difference on how much, it will depend on where the shipping address is.

For example I have an overseas credit card, when I use it here in NY either if I choose pick it up at the store or that they deliver it to me , I always pay 8.13%.

Also you please check Sales taxes in the United States - New Jersey has a 7% state sales tax. This is split as 3.5% for the State, and 3.5% for the municipality.

Um, ack! Completely disregarding the lack of a helpful response (i.e., the answer I want (grin)), this is one of the most badly-written, appallingly atrocious e-mails I have ever received. Really. Ever.

Think about how badly this makes Adorama look. I’m not happy about the $45 sales tax, but I am absolutely appalled at the verbal skills of this person from “On line customer services,” who doesn’t even seem to know that “online” is one word, or that titles and department names are usually capitalized. (The fact that she so nicely/patronizingly gave me a link to Wikipedia informing me that NJ has its own sales tax didn’t help matters. Gosh, really? I’ve never bought anything here ever in my life and hadn’t realized. SO helpful.) My verdict on Adorama? Great camera and very prompt service which I appreciated and can’t fault, but their follow-through and customer service?? Oy. Awful.

Which just goes to show–it doesn’t matter how good a service you provide, how well you fulfill that service IF you don’t back it up with a professional appearance. Good grammar may not be the most important thing in the world, but just like a clean appearance, a friendly smile, and decent manners … its absence sticks out like a sore thumb, and that’s what people are going to remember. Years from now, I might remember how quickly I got my camera in the mail, but I will absolutely remember the terrible e-mail I got from customer service. Not only that, but if I needed to place another camera order right now? I’d be more inclined to patronize a company whose employees show a reasonable grasp of the language.

You might say, but didn’t this employee got her point across? Yes, she did, but she left a bad impression. If there had been one typo in there, I would have chalked it up to a simple error. Everyone makes mistakes, and people are busy, yes, yes, but with this many? Not to mention the sloppy visual of the bad typing with double spaces between words, and the multiple colors? Not very professional.

And that is exactly the point. End of lesson.

As a purely side note, because I’m a good daughter, I’m attaching a link here to my father’s website, InhaleNow.com. He started it because he’d been looking for air purifiers to help with my asthma (because he’s a good dad). Providing a link was the least I could do, since, you know, I love him and all. Go take a look!

We will now resume our regularly-scheduled programming.

Seen in the wild:

This sign so incensed my sister, she went back and took a picture just for us. See it? It asks, “Have alot of square footage?”

This is a simple one, folks. “Alot” is not a word, unless you are referring to that little town in India.

When talking or writing about a “considerable quantity or extent,” it is correctly written as “a lot,” two words.

If you need further memory aids, as this site humorously points out, “You shouldn’t write ‘alittle’ either.” (At least, I hope he meant it humorously. I can’t say I’ve ever seen “alittle” in writing, but maybe I’ve missed something?)

I was visited by the Language Log yesterday, and it was not a friendly visit. Back in 2007, I wrote about the venerable Strunk and White grammar book, and in that post mentioned in passing that the authors were against split infinitives. Geoffrey Pullum, in his post yesterday, was apparently saddened by this since that was not, in fact, one of the rules Strunk and White insisted upon. Then he implied that I was professing admiration for a book that I hadn’t actually read–or had not read carefully.

With all due respect to Mr. Pullum, I have read the book, many times. However, the last time I read it through, cover to cover, was on August 5, 1996. (Yes, I keep a reading list.) I have about 100 grammar, usage, style, and writing books, and can’t always remember where I’ve read a certain rule–especially when it’s one like split-infinitives that crops up over and over again. (One example of such, from Karen Elizabeth Gordon, is pictured to the left.)

Now, I’ve never claimed to be an expert on grammar. I write about it, yes, and I try to be as precise as I can be because I love the subject and don’t want to pass along misinformation. You don’t need a Doctorate of Writing to be able to write, though, nor do you need to be an Ansel Adams to recognize a great photograph–or to take great snapshots. I realize that blogging about grammar therefore opens me up to criticism by the experts when I make a mistake.

What irks me, though, is that he took one, small, relatively unimportant element from a review and used it as a focus for an entire post about people (in this case, me) not knowing about split infinitives. If the post had been about split infinitives (which I’ve also written), this would have been entirely fair, but it wasn’t. This was like reading an article praising the Beatles, detailing all the reasons their music was so ground-breaking and definitive, but then tearing it apart because the author mistakenly said that “Hey Jude” was on the “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” album. A mistake that should not have happened, but one which hardly negates the rest of the article. I might have mistakenly used an incorrect example in my list, but that doesn’t mean that I was wrong about everything–just that I attributed a statement to one book that was made in (many) other books. To continue that example, it’s like that imaginary writer being lambasted for not understanding that “Hey Jude” was inspired by Paul McCartney’s efforts to cheer up Julian Lennon … when that had nothing to do with the original article about the Beatles as a band.

So, the lesson learned from this? Well, I could stop blogging about writing altogether, but that seems extreme. I could have left a protesting comment over on the Language Log, but the comments on that post were closed. Not to mention the lesson of the importance of taking things in context. Really, though, the best decision is just to shrug it off, right? Because that’s what civilized people do. And, at least Mr. Pullum acknowledges that I am, “…truly concerned about usage and punctuation and so on.” I suppose that’s something.

Am I being too thin-skinned here? Or am I being too nicely magnanimous? Opinions?

I mentioned that I was having trouble coming up with bad-grammar examples to Melissa the other day, and she said something that made me think.

@Deb, probably because whenever we try to come up with examples, they evade us. It happens to me all the time. That is one reason to rough draft several days before deadline. All kinds of great lines, metaphors, and examples will pop into your head while the draft is simmering on the back burner.

She’s right, of course.

I could expand on this for you, pointing out the wisdom of ageing your writing until your brain is sure that everything is as perfect as it can be, but, really, Melissa covered it. How often have you finalized a blog post, or clicked send on an e-mail, only to have the perfect additional point pop into your head? (Much like the perfect come-back occurs to you hours after your argument with your spouse is over.) It happens to me all the time.

So, really, that’s it. That’s the whole “lesson” for today–don’t necessarily rush to get things out there for public consumption. Sure, there may be deadlines. Yes, there may be the need to post an update to your blog. There are always urgent things that need to be done now.

But if you have the luxury of letting your writing simmer a bit, just like a good stew, the flavors will meld and intensify–with a chance for a final pinch of salt before it leaves your keyboard.

Please, tell me I’m not the only one this happens to?

Jargon is everywhere. You know–the special, “inside” language that is used by specific industries or groups of people but is completely obscure to Joe Public. (Have you ever tried to read a legal brief? Or a medical journal?) Referring to an addressed envelope as a SASE. Calling the newsperson in front of the camera the Talent. Saying a project given a go-ahead is Green-Lighted. Calling a piece of undeliverable mail a Nixie.

The thing you need to be aware of is that jargon, by its very nature, puts a wall between you and everybody else. You might know exactly what you mean when you say your company was “down-sized,” but will everybody? Are you deliberately using it to obfuscate your meaning? Or, is your meaning confusing because you assume that everyone you’re talking to will be familiar with the jargon? If you’re trying to be obscure, or if you’re gearing your writing to a very specific set of people who have their own, very specific way of speaking (lawyers, computer geeks, photographers, rap stars), jargon may be fine.

But be wary. If you aren’t careful, your use of jargon could impede the transference of data segments to the mental computational devices of the written-word scanner.

(In other words, jargon may interfere with your information getting into your reader’s brain.)

Since I’m travelling today, I thought I’d address some of those travel-related words that can get confusing. So please, make sure your safety belts are securely fastened and that your hands are safely on your keyboards, and let’s begin!

• Plane vs Plain:
  • Plane, of course, is short for “Airplane” and describes those nifty machines that fly through the air (when the airlines let them).
  • Plain describes a flat geographic area, often monotonous, like most of the center of the United States.
• Train:
  • One word with two meanings.
  • (1) Train (n): The first describes that locomotive that travels on prelaid tracks and used to go choo-choo in the old days when it ran on steam.
  • (2)Train (v): The second meaning describes what you need to do to get the tallest, strongest person of your travelling party to automatically pick up the heaviest pieces of luggage without your needing to nag.
• Board vs Bored:
  • Board is what you do when you’re finally allowed onto a plane, train, or bus after hours in the terminal.
  • Bored is the emotion you feel while waiting to do so.

• Sail vs Sale:
  • Sail is what you do on one of those pretty boats with the pieces of cloth filling with wind. (I’m told by people who know more about the water than I that a motor-powered boat such as a ferry or a cruise ship does not officially count as “sailing.”)
  • Sale is what you look for while on vacation so that you don’t spend too much of your hard-earned money on cheesy knick-knacks and t-shirts. (Buying them is one thing, but spending full-price? Tsk.)
• Inn vs In:
  • Inn is a quaint name for a hotel, or bed-and-breakfast, or whatever type of lodging you prefer. They can be large, modern hotels (like Hampton Inn), or they can be charming little Victorian houses that have been converted to money-making opportunities by idealists with a flair for doilies. Or, really, anything in between–if they take money and let you sleep there, they can basically call themselves an inn.
  • In is what you need to be to get a reservation at the trendiest restaurants, get into the coolest clubs, or just INto the swimming pool at your inn.
• Wine vs Whine:
  • Wine: Visiting wineries while you travel can be a pleasant way to spend a few hours (and even more money), because once you’ve tried the wine-tasting at the end, your resistance to the sales pitch will be low. And, really, what could be a better travel souvenir than a delicate bottle filled with a liquid that does not travel well?
  • Whine: The high-pitched, annoying sound often eminating from the back seat of the family car on long drives. “Are we there yet?” “He’s touching me!” “She’s on my side!” “I have to go to the bathroom!” Whines may also be heard from adults by the end of a long day of shouting, “Don’t make me turn this car around!”
• Tour vs Tourist:
  • Tour is what you do when you visit a new place or a museum. Usually headed up by a tour-guide to point out interesting features and to warn you about keeping your hands and feet inside the vehicle. Depending on the location, the guide, the scenery, the weather, and the script, these can be either a fabulous and informative use of a few hours or one of the deadliest, most boring places to be trapped on your precious vacation.
  • Tourists, on the other hand, used to be just people who were on tours, but have since transformed into obnoxious strangers, often with funny accents, who carry cameras everywhere (even though they don’t have blogs), and block traffic while standing in the middle of the street with a map trying to figure out where they are.
  • In other words, going on tours is okay, but being a tourist is dreadful.
• Holiday:
  • Another one of those confusing words with more than one meaning.
  • (1) To a British person, “Holiday” means the actual trip–getting on that plane, lying on that beach, touring that museum. Holidays are something they “go on.”
  • (2) To Americans, “Holiday” is the word for time off from work. Fourth of July (sorry, Brits) is a holiday. Christmas is a holiday. A long weekend can be a holiday. But the trip you stood for four hours in the airport to take? That’s a “Vacation.”

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little tour of some of the more confusing, travel-related words in the English language. All gratuities can be left in the tip-jar. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go load the car with luggage, catch a ferry, and spend the next 6 hours or so after that driving home along I-95 with my Mom and my tends-to-get-carsick dog. That rush-hour and Tappan Zee Bridge part is going to be FUN.

Can you think of anything I missed? Come on, chime in, folks!

Remember when we talked about using apostrophes for indicating possession? Well, here’s an interesting tidbit.

The United States Board on Geographic Names has a long-standing policy to discourage the use of apostrophes in place names. In 1894, they eliminated 1,665 apostrophes across the country, to widespread shock and dismay, I’m sure.

But then, there’s Martha’s Vineyard. One of my very favorite places. For those who don’t know, it’s an island just south of Cape Cod in Massachusetts, and one with unusual strength of character (if an island can be said to have character). It is, for example, one of the few tourist spots that has successfully fought off the advances of McDonalds. Or Starbucks. Or just about any hotel chain you can mention. And, well, it didn’t take kindly to having its apostrophe taken away.

So, in 1933, the Vineyard fought back. And won.

It’s only one of five places in the United States that has won approval to have an official apostrophe in its name. (We’re talking geography here, of course, not things like stores or houses.) Five places in the entire country. See? I knew the island was special.

The irony? Now that we are firmly in the internet age, you’ll get fewer Google hits if you use the apostrophe. (Still 2,400,000 of them, which isn’t really small change, but something like 500,000 more if you leave out the apostrophe.)

If you’d like to read more about this, there’s a great article right here, If only Martha Knew the Power she Possessed. Very interesting! (Thanks, Mom, for the link.) And it will give you all something to think about while I’m at the Martha’s Vineyard Fiber Festival this weekend.

*(And, I was so tempted to put “Who’s Vineyard” in the title to mimic the “Martha’s Vineyard” construction but was afraid it would be taken as if I meant it seriously rather than a joke and decided not to risk it!)

I did post promptly about Monday being the (unofficial) Blogger Appreciation Day, but then I just didn’t get around to telling you who, exactly, I appreciate.

I mean, obviously, I appreciate YOU. (And, really, you are my favorite.) But there are other bloggers out there that I appreciate, too, and I’ve been stingy of late telling them so, and now seems a good time. So, here are a few of my favorites out of my RSS reader.

• Angela Booth’s Writing Blog
• Confident Writing
• Copyblogger
• Daily Writing Tips
• Entrepreneur’s Journey
• Grow Your Writing Business
• Liz Strauss’s Successful Blog
• Men with Pens
• Problogger
• The QC Report (because she’s just funny)
• The Renegade Writer
• Sparkplugging (formerly eMoms at Home)
• Thinking About
• Word Wrangler
• Word Sell, Inc.
• Writing, Clear and Simple
• Writing Forward
• Writing Thoughts
• A Writer’s Word, an Editor’s Eye
• The Yarn Harlot (because whether you knit or not, she’s hilarious)
• Zen Habits

I am.

Simple, isn’t it? Serenely self-confident and self-contained, it embodies a simple statement of fact, unburdened by any distractions.

No, no. I’m not talking about the philosophical statement (though, that’s true, too). I’m talking about the sentence, because it simply doesn’t get any more, well, simple than that.

A noun: I

A verb: am

Punctuation to finish the thought: Period.

That, my friends, is all you need for a sentence.

Of course, you can add more stuff to it–that’s what makes things interesting. You can make bread with nothing but water and flour if you truly need to, but it’s a lot tastier if you add things like yeast, salt, butter, eggs, fruit, spices, nuts… you get the idea. But, the essentials must be there. A combination of butter, eggs, and salt may make a tasty omelet, but it is NOT bread. Likewise, a combination of adjectives, verbs, and prepositions does not make a sentence.

Every, single sentence, in order to be a sentence, must have a noun and a verb, and it must complete a thought.

Wait, I hear you saying, what about something like “Stop!” or “Shoot!” Aren’t they sentences? Well, yes, they are, but the noun is understood to be “You,” as in, “You wait.” They are technically commands, declarative sentences, and for those, brevity is key, but since they are directed AT somebody, the noun is understood to be there.

And, obviously, there’s more to be said about sentences. (How many two-word sentences do you come across on a daily basis?) It’s always good to start with the basics, though.  You understand.