Tag Archives: grammar

Mechanics

Debunking a Myth: Avoid the verb “to be.”

3 Comments

By Janga

Avoid the verb “to be.”

Too often I see that command given as well-intentioned advice to some writer who takes the advice literally and begins revising her prose with the goal of eliminating every pesky is/are/was/were from her prose. I’m fairly certain that the advice giver intends to caution the writer against overuse of the verb “to be” and verbs of passive voice, but the warning lacks clarity. A surprising number of people fail to distinguish between “to be” as a state-of-being verb (Jenny is happy) and “to be” as an auxiliary verb used to turn active voice verbs (Jeremy kissed Jenny) into passive voice (Jenny was kissed by Jeremy).

I take every opportunity to make the distinction and to sound the alarm: “to be” is not the writer’s enemy. Yes, even a quick read of many manuscripts reveals that the author has used “to be” excessively, resulting in passages of heavy, dull prose. Few of us who read contest entries have been spared the awkward, confusing sentences created by passive voice. But linking verbs and passive voice are tools the writer needs. Both have their uses. I’d hate to have a character ask “What name do you claim?” rather than “Who are you?”

Take a look at the following passage from Julia Ross’s historical romance The Seduction:

His hair was tied neatly at the back of his neck, but it rippled at the temples where a more elaborate style had been brushed out. The blond waves framed skin with the fashionable pallor of London, enhanced by a small patch high on one cheekbone. Arrogance was reflected in every line of his body, enhanced, not hidden, by the full-skirted riding coat, the tall boots, the fall of white linen at his throat.

A town gentleman, dressed for the country.

His moment of surprised admiration had been masked quickly enough, but it had been there. She had suffered from it all her life. It was the way men always looked at her, as if she were fruit, and ripe, and ready for plucking. Even after she suppressed her moment of panic, it still filled her with fury.

Ross uses four passive voice verbs (“was tied,” “had been brushed out,” “was reflected,” and “had been masked”) and three linking verbs (“had been,” “was,” and “were”) in this brief selection. We can rewrite Ross’s sentences to eliminate the “problem” verbs.

Someone had tied his hair neatly at the back of his neck, but it rippled at the temples where a more elaborate style had been brushed out. The blond waves framed skin with the fashionable pallor of London, enhanced by a small patch high on one cheekbone. Every line of his body reflected arrogance, enhanced, not hidden, by the full-skirted riding coat, the tall boots, the fall of white linen at his throat.

A town gentleman, dressed for the country.

He had masked his moment of surprised admiration quickly enough, but she had seen it there. She had suffered from it all her life. Men always looked at her that way, looked at her like fruit, and ripe, and ready for plucking. Even after she suppressed her moment of panic, it still filled her with fury.

But look at what is lost in the change. First, the rhythm of the prose changes, as does the voice. Moreover, meaning is altered in subtle ways. Does the reader care who ties his hair? I don’t think so, but there is “someone” in a position of strong emphasis. The arrogance of the character is key, but the revision buries the quality in the sentence. And the force of the heroine’s being the object of male gazes is muted in the rewrite.

Ross is a gifted stylist, and she knows how to use action verbs when she needs them. Note this passage from the same chapter as the first selection—every verb but one expresses action:

Her fingers felt clumsy and heavy as she unbuttoned the front of his waistcoat, then opened his shirt at the neck. The strong skin of his throat gleamed smooth and white in the mottled light. She noticed the perfect shape of his jaw at the strangely vulnerable junction where it curved up into his ear and felt a small surge of discomfort, as if she were a young farm girl winked at by a gentleman.

Try this exercise with a writer whose style you admire. My guess is that you will discover the writer uses her full arsenal of verbs.

About the author
Janga started reading her mother’s romance novels the summer she turned ten and has continued to be an avid reader of romance. Even a Ph. D. in English and years in academia were not enough to diminish her love of the genre. The enthusiasm of aspiring romance writers on the Eloisa James bulletin board refired her dream of writing a romance novel. She is in the process of revising her first mss, The Long Way Home, a contemporary with a Southern accent. She blogs at Romance Vagabonds and Just Janga.

Is your writing any good? Join my writers' email group to find out how you can get a free edit & skill assessment!

 
Mechanics

To split or to boldly split!

2 Comments

I’ve been pretty bold in our verb series so far, so I won’t stop today. Legend has it that this is a sin against good grammar:

To boldly go where no man has gone before

I know—can you believe it?! They put a modifier between the “to” and the verb in the infinitive form. I know we’ve all committed this venial sin at least once. (Come on, raise your hands—there’s no shame here.)

Good news: I absolve you. Because there’s no such thing as a split infinitive.

I know, right now you’re sputtering in disbelief: “But—but—but my crit partner/mother/English teacher/editor said…”

Your crit partner/mother/English teacher/editor is a lovely person, I’m sure. I’m also quite certain that s/he has a firm grasp upon most of the finer points of the English language, syntax, grammar, etc. In fact, that’s probably why s/he repeated this notorious lie to you.

But the truth of the matter is that split infinitives are not wrong in English. The split infinitive rule, like the “don’t end a sentence in a preposition” rule, is made up.

GASP

Yeah, most of the rules of grammar are made up. They were codified by someone who wrote a book. (My rant on why writing a book doesn’t make you an authority on writing will have to wait for another day 😉 .) The “don’t split infinitives” rule was first written in 1834. In fact, in Middle English, infinitives were split all the time.

Granted, sometimes split infinitives are awkward. If that’s the case, avoid, avoid, avoid! But if it’s more natural to split the infinitive, ignore anyone who cites this pedantic rule.

I’ll be honest: I don’t mind grammatical pedantry over some issues: the subjunctive mood, for example. However, I’m opposed to most grammar rules like the split infinitive rule because they’re artificial and awkward (and not just a little because I have a degree in Linguistics, where we’re not allowed to use rules to prescribe how you should construct language, but to describe how people actually use it).

Join the ranks of John Donne, Benjamin Franklin, William Wordsworth, Abraham Lincoln, Henry James, and Willa Cather and defy this rule. If people can still understand the meaning of your sentence and splitting the infinitive and ending in a preposition are the best way to go, do it! I give you permission. Heck, I’ll even write your editor a note 😉 .

Is your writing any good? Join my writers' email group to find out how you can get a free edit & skill assessment!

 
Mechanics

Animus and animacy

One of my favorite “nongrammatical” sentences from my Linguistics textbooks was:

*My theory rolled down the hill.

(The asterisk denotes it’s nongrammatical.)

Nope, that’s not just nonsensical, it’s nongrammatical. Why? A little thing I like to call “animacy mismatch.” Theories can take verbs (oh, look, it just did):

My theory is awesomer than yours.
My theory explains everything that has ever happened.
Your theory disappoints me.

So why can’t theories roll down hills? Because rolling requires a certain amount of “animacy”—being alive/moving/changing as opposed to being . . . well, inanimate.

Animacy mismatches extend to other grammatical areas. You can have an animacy mismatch with an object (“He thinks the book” as an attempt at a complete sentence.), or a wh-question word (“What thinks the book is stupid?”—”What” questions are answered with objects; “who” questions are answered with people. Does an object or a person think the book is stupid?).

Sometimes, however, animacy mismatches aren’t as clear as theories rolling down hills. Anything strike you as funny about these examples?

  • Jerrica is a glut of information.
  • The pie, which was only $7.99 full price, so $6.29 didn’t seem like a great deal, ran the sale.
  • The stench of week old garbage brushed her nostrils.
  • Her euphoria ebbed.

To me, these examples sound a little off. Can a stench brush (if so, that’s one powerful smell!)? Have you ever seen a pie run anything? They might be okay—animacy can be a slippery thing. Can “a feeling of well being” really “fall back or fall away”? Maybe, if you’re writing in a somewhat literary register (even then, unless you’re already using liquid words to describe emotions [“elation flooded her heart”] it’s still a bit of a stretch—you might want to go with a verb requiring a little less animacy, such as fade).

In our search for the right word, sometimes we have to get a little creative. And of course, the style we’re writing in (genre vs. literary fiction, Shakespearean iambic pentameter vs. prose) can play a big role in what is acceptable. But if ever you’ve been wondering how Jerrica turned into a collective noun, now you know why!

What “animacy mismatches” have you found, in your own work or in others’ (I swear someone is putting mistakes in my writing 😉 )? What phrases just never seem right to you?

Is your writing any good? Join my writers' email group to find out how you can get a free edit & skill assessment!

 
Mechanics

Past progressive (imperfect) vs. passive

4 Comments

Our verb series continues!

Think of the differences between these examples:

She was crying. She cried.
He entered the room. She leaned toward the door, eavesdropping. He entered the room. She was leaning toward the door, eavesdropping.
He smiled at her. He was smiling at her. He was still smiling.

There are lots of books and websites out there that will tell you that the verb “was” and the construct “was [verb]ing” is passive voice. It’s not.

Can I repeat that? The construct “was [verb]ing” is NOT passive voice.

The passive voice means that the actor is not in the subject position. Instead, the thing acted upon is in the subject position. Most people can identify this:

Passive (obvious): The conversation was heard by him.

Passive (sneakier): The conversation was heard.

Active: He heard the conversation.

Note here, too, that the passive voice isn’t past tense. It’s also seen in the present tense (and all the others): The conversation is/will be/would be/could be/might be heard by him.

There are sometimes occasions when the passive voice is called for, or even necessary—to conceal the actor, or if the POV character doesn’t know who the actor is. But mostly the passive voice is awkward and thus to be avoided. (Catch the passive in there?)

The construct “was [verb]ing” is the past progressive (or imperfect) tense. (Again, it’s NOT the passive voice.) Compare the examples at the beginning of this post. How does “She was crying” differ from “She cried”? To me, “she was crying” means tears were falling. “She cried” is most likely a speech tag. If not, it almost seems like she’s done crying. Maybe my Spanish training is showing here, but can I just clarify that this is the preterite?

Note that the past progressive is necessary to show an ongoing action in the past. In the second example, when does the leaning start? In “He entered the room. She leaned . . .” the simple past tense (preterite) can indicate consecutive actions—he walks in, then she leans. In “He entered the room. She was leaning . . .” the progressive shows an ongoing action that began before the simple past action—he walks in and finds her already leaning. If you really hate the imperfect, you can rephrase this as “He found her leaning against the door, eavesdropping, when he walked in the room,” or some such.

The third example, “He smiled/was smiling/was still smiling” might have a few more shades in it. When I picture these, I see someone break into a smile for “He smiled.” “He was smiling” show someone already grinning. “He was still smiling” is a bit more specialized—we’ve already seen him begin to smile (or just smiling) . . . and he’s still at it. (Don’t you wish he’d stop?)

When using a “was [verb]ing,” be sure it’s on purpose, to generate a specific effect—and don’t overuse it, or it kills that effect. If that’s why you’re using it, and it seems to be working, don’t let anyone bully you out of it, especially if they claim it’s “passive.”

What are some other good uses for past progressive tense and passive voice? Let me know!

Is your writing any good? Join my writers' email group to find out how you can get a free edit & skill assessment!

 
Mechanics

May it be

I’ve been thinking about verbs for a while now, and I’m thinking that’s where I want to start with my rants posts about writing topics. And what better time to discuss verbs than the merry, merry month of May, right?

Right?

C’mon, guys—it’s a modal? A modal verb?

Yeah, on that note, I think we’ll be starting with the basics—like what the heck a modal is, anyway—and then go on to talk about how we use verbs in writing, including the dreaded passive voice. (Guess what—if you’re getting dinged by your critique partners for writing in the passive voice a lot, you might not be doing anything wrong. Then again, you might—but still, there’s hope!)

And I’m lining up guest posts from some brilliant English minds (even doctors, folks!), so be sure to check back next week—or subscribe to the blog to get RSS updates (or email updates)—to join in the “verbal” discussion.

In other news, I’m renaming my current works. Yes, I know, I can’t help it—I just read the chapter on titling in Stein On Writing and I found one that really struck me:

Saints and Agents

To match the new title for Duty of the Priest, Evidence of Things Not Seen is now Saints and Spies. The Projects page and excerpt page have been updated to reflect this.

And I promise soon to talk titling and explain this move. But first—verbs!

Is your writing any good? Join my writers' email group to find out how you can get a free edit & skill assessment!