April 13 is National Scrabble Day! How can a board game become so popular that it actually has its own holiday? Those who have played Scrabble know that it’s an addictive, brain-busting game that delights word nerds and language lovers. There’s even an annual US National Scrabble Championship and World Scrabble Championship!
Conrad Bassett-Bouchard, last year’s winner of the National Scrabble Championship, won $10,000 after beating a five-time champion. What’s the best way to prepare for the championship? He suggests studying anagrams so your mind can unscramble your Scrabble tiles with ease.
An anagram is a word, phrase, or name formed by rearranging the letters of another word or phrase. If you want to practice for the next Scrabble Championship, test your skills by creating anagrams from the word “Grammarly.” Here are a few to get you started:
A nonrestrictive clause offers extra information about something you have mentioned in a sentence, but the information isn’t essential to identify the thing you’re talking about. Nonrestrictive clauses are usually introduced by which or who and should be set off by commas.
Posey’s Cafe, which Chester recommended, is a fantastic restaurant.
The clause “which Chester recommended” is nonrestrictive because “Posey’s Cafe” is already specific. Identifying it as the restaurant recommended by Chester doesn’t narrow it down any further.
My wife, whom I love dearly, is a brilliant physicist.
The clause “whom I love dearly” is nonrestrictive because you could remove it and it would still be clear that you’re talking about the same person—“my wife” is already specific.
Keeping up with grammar rules when you’re texting and tweeting can be difficult. We get it—your characters are limited and you’ve got to keep things brief—but the challenge with typing in shorthand is the risk of getting things lost in translation (and autocorrect misinterpreting what you’re trying to say entirely). Communicating a clear message through texts and tweets can be even trickier now that emoji use is replacing words altogether. We’ve all had our moments when what we thought was a clear, simple text completely confused the person on the other end. Here are a few texting tips to help you get your message across:
1. Use Acronyms Sparingly IMHO IDC. IANAL but LMK JIC.
In my honest opinion (IMHO), I don’t care (IDC). I am not a lawyer (IANAL) but let me know (LMK) just in case (JIC).
If you aren’t a world champion of shorthand, it’s easy to get a little apprehensive at the sight of a string of acronyms. For clarity’s sake, it’s best to stick to 1 or 2 acronyms per text. And usually, if it’s longer than a 4-letter acronym, it may be better to take the extra second to type the phrase out.
2. Know Your Audience You: Can You MM@ Market Street? TIA. (Can you meet me @ Market Street? Thanks in advance.) Them: Huh?
Though we may not realize it, sometimes we can be slightly more conversant in textspeak than the person we’re communicating with. While you and your best friend can seemingly have an entire conversation through a series of shorthand texts, someone you text only periodically may not understand your lingo. If you’ve coined a new acronym, it’s probably best to type the phrase out first and then place the acronym in parentheses.
3. An Emoji Says 1,000 Words The good news: there’s an emoji for just about everything. The bad news: many of us still aren’t sure which emoji means what. For example, the high five emoji is often mistaken for (and used as) praying hands. The difference between the crying, sick, and sweating emoji are so minimal that you probably never noticed there was a distinct emoji for each. And what about the woman with her hand in the air? You may be surprised to learn that she isn’t in the middle of a casual hair flip or raising the roof, but instead she’s assisting you. (Her proper name is “Information Desk Lady”.) Review your emoji with the Emoji Cheat Sheet to ensure you use the correct one every time. Who knew the emoji with steam coming from its nose actually means “triumph”?
4. Capitalization and Punctuation Still Matter Capitalizing a letter doesn’t limit your character count, so there’s no need to skip this step. With numbers, for clarity and speed, it’s best to use numerals at all times (e.g. I’ll meet you @ 4 vs. I’ll meet you @ four). Also, using proper punctuation will help your reader better understand what you’re trying to convey. Sure, adding that comma may use up an extra character, but it will certainly help avoid confusion and possibly embarrassment.
5. Sentence Fragments Are OkayGoing to the movies. Back around 9.
If you leave a word out in a text message response to save some space, it’s okay. Chances are your reader will still understand you. Because text messages are such a direct form of communication, you don’t have to start each response with I’m/I am.
We hope these tips help you out the next time you’re in a pinch and need to send a quick text or tweet. Do you have some text etiquette of your own to share? Leave a comment or tweet us @Grammarly!
This assignment should be no problem. In fact, it’ll be a blast. What could go wrong? Suppose for a moment that all you have to do is write a children’s song about otters.
The trouble is, there are so many scintillating facts about otters that it’s hard to know where to begin. Do you start with general info—that they’re highly adorable four-legged carnivorous swimmers? Or do you zero in on something more specific?
You could focus on a single nifty detail, like how sea otters’ dense, nearly waterproof fur traps air for insulation, keeping them snug even in cold Pacific waters. Or you could sing about how groups of river otters ward off predators like crocodiles by relentlessly yelling at them.
Choose well, because you’ll only have so much time to hook your audience before their minds drift. For rapper Aesop Rock, the way a swimming otter can use its belly as a table, munching a tasty meal while backstroking, proved irresistible. The result is the one-of-a-kind “My Belly.”
Whether you’re working on a presentation, a blog post, a rap, or a cover letter, cracking into a new piece of writing is tough. When your subject is broad and multifaceted, where to start rarely feels obvious. You need a way in, a distinct perspective, an angle. This is what differentiates your piece from a generic overview. There might be others like it, but this one is yours.
So what’s your angle?
There are a few questions to consider when deciding your angle:
What precisely will you illuminate for your audience?
What will be unique about your approach to this subject?
How much do you assume your readers already know about it?
Properly calibrating that last item is essential. You want people to feel surprised and curious within the first sentence or two, not lost or confused. You certainly don’t want to bore folks with an intro inanely reminding them that otters are mammals, just as you’d prefer not to torpedo your next job application by opening your cover letter with “I hope you hire me.”
A test that editors sometimes use is the question, “What part of this would be most important or exciting to tell your grandmother?” The answer can reveal a lot about your angle. (If the result feels awkward, substitute the grandmother for “friends on a Friday night,” or “hiring committee” as needed.)
Lede the way
The angle needn’t always be spelled out in your final draft, but for journalists, it points to the first and most important sentence from which all else flows: the lede. (That spelling apparently arose to distinguish the term from the the lead type used in old-timey newspaper presses, although some argue its usage stems more from lore than actual history.)
You’ve likely heard of this as the who-what-when-where-why approach to news writing, but it’s a helpful thought process in many other fields as well. Michelle Nijhuis, who writes for National Geographic and edited the indispensable Science Writers’ Handbook, cautions it’s best not to overthink this part early on.
As you outline, don’t let the specific language of the lede hold you up. If you start fiddling, try SciLancer Stephen Ornes’s technique: ‘I write a dummy lede—basically, the most banal and uninteresting introduction to the piece—just to get it over with temporarily. Then, after I’ve written about half the first draft, I can go back and improve the lede.’
Most news stories make a promise of what the story will contain with their lede and then deliver on that promise with more details, context, and quotes further down. Any information that’s not pertinent to the lede tends to get cut or saved for another day.
Topics vs. stories
To sharpen your angle, tighten your focus. A helpful planning exercise is to ask whether you’re writing about a topic or telling a story. Here’s an illustration of how such a conversation might go:
WRITER: I wanna write about childhood.
EDITOR: Yawn. That’s a topic. What’s the story?
WRITER: It’s funny how we see our parents differently once we’re grown up.
EDITOR: You’re gonna have to be more specific.
WRITER: It’s much easier to understand my dad’s actions now that I know what a hangover is.
EDITOR: You could say the same about me. Keep talking.
WRITER: Like this time he was watching a golf video, working on his swing in the living room, and took out an overhead light, and rained glass all over the carpet.
EDITOR: Now we’re getting somewhere.
It’s difficult to directly tackle a topic in a way that doesn’t feel bland or unwieldy. By contrast, stories offer endless avenues for invention and allow room for some writerly personality. They’re often more memorable.
For instance, suppose your task is to write a few thousand words about sinkholes in Florida. Taking this as a head-on topic might mean starting with some forgettable statistics, alongside sterile facts about geologic processes. Meh. Instead, New Yorker writer David Owen opts to begin with a story:
In the fall of 1999, much of Lake Jackson—a four-thousand-acre natural body of water just north of Tallahassee and a popular site for fishing, waterskiing, and recreational boating—disappeared down a hole, like a bathtub emptying into a drain. Trophy bass became stranded in rapidly shrinking eddies, enabling children to catch them with their hands and toss them into picnic coolers, and many of the lake’s other fish, turtles, snakes, and alligators vanished into the earth.
It’s worth noting that where reporters covering hard news traffic in ledes, longform feature writers sometimes employ a nut graf or billboard—a concise explanation of what makes the subject worth caring about.
Nut grafs traditionally appear near the end of an opening section, but they don’t always make it into the final product. Sometimes they’re just a helpful tool for condensing your thoughts and feeling out your angle as you mash out an early draft. Don’t be afraid to write one, Nijhuis says, and take it out once you’re nearly finished.
She also cautions against burning up all your best material too early; remember to save some excitement to help you draw readers through the middle to a rewarding conclusion:
While we obsess about beginnings, we often don’t spend enough time sculpting our endings, or kickers, and that’s too bad. Endings are our last word to the reader, and often what readers will remember most. I like to end with a small scene that serves as a coda to the rest of the story, but there are infinite possibilities: consider powerful quotes, pithy observations, or just a strong statement in your own voice.
Just as a well-considered angle lights the way into a piece of writing, it helps inform how you finish it. Know where you’re coming from and what you’ll deliver to readers, and the path forward will shine that much brighter.
Language is constantly evolving – a fact made especially clear when we take a look at historical documents and note how writing norms have shifted over the years. The further back we go, the bigger the shift. The Declaration of Independence, for example, represents a version of English that is noticeably different than that which we use to communicate today.
What are the main grammatical differences between Thomas Jefferson’s version of English and our own? Read on to learn more.
Writing Style
The unusual writing style is one of the first things that many modern readers notice about the Declaration of Independence. Phrases and clauses are stacked together in sentences that threaten to become run-ons, and Jefferson was obviously in love with colons, semicolons, and dashes. The writing is also very persuasive, rational, and formal, using straightforward arguments to support moral principles. Government documents today tend to be dry and technical; few would read them voluntarily.
“That” vs. “Which”
Among the most troublesome of grammar nuances is the distinction between “that” and “which.” To summarize, “that” is used when the content that comes afterwards is necessary to the meaning of the sentence, otherwise known as a restrictive clause. “Which,” on the other hand, is used when non-essential information is being added to the sentence. The Chicago Manual of Style online has a great explanation and examples of how this works in practice.
In the Declaration of Independence, “which” is frequently used where “that” would be more appropriate (were the document to be revised today):
“…to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another…”
“…they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.”
Why is this? Well, there are two things going on. First, this grammar distinction is relatively new. Second, even today, British English and American English are on different wavelengths when it comes to the use of “that” and “which.” In 1776, American English had yet to separate very much from its British roots.
British English vs. American English
Speaking of “that” vs. “which,” another reason that the Declaration of Independence reads strangely is that, in 1776, British and American English had yet to become distinct forms. All English was still British English, but change was beginning to happen. Declaring independence from England most definitely helped that process along. Today, of course, English is a truly international language, with dozens of variations.
Gendered Language
In the 21st century, we try to write in a way that doesn’t exclude or disempower any gender, race, or other group. Two centuries ago, we hadn’t quite reached that level of awareness. That’s why it’s not surprising to see phrases such as:
“…all men are created equal.”
“…Governments are instituted among Men…”
“…mankind are more disposed to suffer…”
In 1776, men ruled the world, so it seemed completely natural write using these masculine nouns. If we were gathering today with the purpose of writing a similar document, readers would probably see more words like “humanity,” “people,” and “society,” as these get the same idea across without ignoring half the population.
Spelling and Capitalization
Make no mistake: a few words here and there in the Declaration of Independence are absolutely misspelled by today’s standards. “Hath shewn,” “compleat,” and “Brittish” are the main offenders. The spelling of these words reveals a connection to the Middle English of Chaucer’s time. Regardless of the time period, spelling has always been a (sometimes unfair) way for people to judge others.
The non-standard capitalization of key words, on the other hand, functions to heighten emphasis and dramatic effect. Examples of the liberal use of capitalization in the Declaration of Independence include:
“Laws of Nature”
“Form of Government”
“Safety and Happiness”
“Standing Armies”
“Free and Independent States”
Although it’s been 238 years since the Declaration of Independence was drafted, only a few things stick out to strict grammarians as “wrong” by today’s standards. But as a whole, the text simply sounds strange to readers today.
Do you think that important documents, like the Declaration of Independence, should be updated to reflect today’s language standards? Share your thoughts in the comments, and Happy Independence Day (coming up on July 4)!
If you read a lot, you probably have an excellent vocabulary. But it also means that you may know a lot of words that you’ve only seen in writing and never heard spoken aloud. Sometimes even common words are easy to misread. Language enthusiasts have coined the term “misle” for a word that leads you to incorrect assumptions about its pronunciation. It comes from the word misled (as in, the past tense of mislead), which many language lovers admit to misreading at one time or another as the past tense of some imaginary verb along the lines of “to misle.”
Some common misles include:
Victuals: VITT-ulz (rhymes with “whittles”) n. Food; specifically, food fit for humans to eat
Biopic: BI-o-pik (portmanteau of “biography” and “picture”; does not rhyme with “myopic”) n. A movie about a person’s life
Ennui: on-WEE n. A pervasive feeling of boredom and dissatisfaction
Quay: KEE n. A structure at the edge of a body of water where boats load or unload passengers and freight
Chaise longue: SHAYZ LONG (not “chase lounge”) n. A type of long, low chair
Debacle: de-BOCK-ul (not DEB-uh-kul) n. A disaster
Desultory: DES-ul-tor-ee adj. Aimless, disappointing, or lacking serious effort
Spurious: SPYUR-ee-us (rhymes with “curious,” not “furriest” ) adj. Inauthentic, untrue, or deceitful
Caramel: KAR-mell, KAR-uh-mell, KEHR-uh-mell (They’re all correct! Just pick your favorite.) n. Candy made from butter, sugar, and milk; a light brown color
What misles have tripped you up? Let us know in the comment section below or via our Facebook or Twitter feeds.
