ambiguity

Size Matters

By Joshua | September 10, 2015 - 2:04 pm | general writing, structure, style

Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s talk about sentence length. First off: it matters and you should pay attention to it. Shorter sentences tend to be clearer, and we should always strive for clarity. But clarity does not always require the shortest-possible sentence; most thoughts can be properly conveyed in a number of longer or shorter ways. Let’s call this the “length-clarity spectrum.” So long as your sentence falls in the not-too-ambiguous portion of the spectrum, you can choose the appropriate sentence to express your thoughts.

Sentence length, along with word choice and sentence structure, is a key element in pacing your writing. You can take the same set of facts and completely change a reader’s’ perception of those facts through sentence length. As an example, the next two paragraphs demonstrate how much size matters when it comes to sentences. To emphasize the importance of sentence length, both examples are written in active voice with near-identical, mostly-neutral language.

As Tommy neared the stop sign, he hit his brakes and looked both ways to see if there was any traffic at the intersection. Because it was dark, Tommy could not see Billy’s sport utility vehicle, which was also approaching the intersection. As Tommy pulled into the intersection, he heard the sound of a car horn and looked up to see Billy’s sport utility vehicle, with a panicked Billy behind the wheel, also entering the intersection. Both of the drivers, who were trying to avoid a collision, applied their brakes…

Tommy neared the stop sign. He hit his brakes, looking both ways. It was dark. Tommy did not see Billy’s SUV approaching. Tommy pulled into the intersection. He heard a car horn. Looking up, Tommy saw Billy’s SUV entering the intersection. Billy was panicking. Tommy applied his brakes. Billy applied his brakes. Both tried to avoid the collision…

Both examples describe the same incident. The only real difference is that Example #1 contains four sentences and ninety words, for an average of just over 22 words/sentence. Example #2, on the other hand, has eleven sentences and fifty-eight words, for an average of just over 5 words/sentence. Both fall into an acceptable range on the length-clarity spectrum. But as you can see, even though they both give the same facts, they tell a different story.

Example #1 unfolds more slowly, and the pacing does not foreshadow any impending action. Example #2 moves quicker, jerkier, leading us quickly from one fact to the next without allowing us to meander around at any point of the narrative. Even with both paragraphs written in active voice with nearly-identical word choice, sentence length changes the narrative. More could be done to differentiate the pacing, and hence a reader’s perception of the facts, through word choice and sentence structure, but we are only exploring sentence length here.

Is there an optimal sentence length? It depends on what you are trying to do. Are you trying to speed up the story, get to the action? Opt for shorter sentences. Are you trying to draw it out, slow down the story and give your reader the perception that things aren’t happening quite so fast? Go with longer sentences.

I’m interested in your thoughts on this topic. Does size matter when it comes to sentence length? Let me know in the comments.

The day a word literally died.

By Joshua | August 27, 2015 - 3:34 pm | general writing, grammar, word use

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Rest in peace, literally. It’s not the first time, but it is one of the most recent. The misuse of the word “literally” as a substitute for “figuratively” has become an accepted definition. Many major dictionaries, including perhaps the most-used modern dictionary, dictionary.com, now include some version of “figuratively” as an accepted use of the word “literally.”

I don’t consider myself a pedant (well, about most things), and I’m all for creating and creatively using words, but I think this one went too far. Not only are the definitions of “literally” inconsistent, the new definition is the exact opposite of the other accepted definitions. Dictionary.com gives us four definitions for “literally:”

1. in the literal or strict sense: She failed to grasp the metaphor and interpreted the poem literally.
What does the word mean literally?

2. in a literal manner; word for word:
to translate literally.

3. actually; without exaggeration or inaccuracy:
The city was literally destroyed.

4. in effect; in substance; very nearly; virtually:
I literally died when she walked out on stage in that costume.

(Definition from dictionary.com.)

In the immortal words of Sesame Street: “One of these things is not like the others; one of these things just doesn’t belong.”

My problem here is not that words cannot be used to express new concepts or meanings. And we’re not playing Scrabble with our everyday language; to a large extent, as my 13-year-old son says, “If you understood what I meant, then it was a real enough word.” (Note: this is not a good practice to use in any official, academic, or business writing, but works in normal, everyday conversation. Also, try to do it without the eye roll that has been perfected by 13-year-olds throughout the ages.)

No, the problem is that instead of helping someone understand a concept, this use of the word “literally” makes the concept less precise, it leads to unnecessary ambiguity. Sure, contextual clues will usually let us know which whether the speaker or writer using “literally” really means “literally” or “figuratively,” but with all of the other good words out there, why misuse a perfectly good word like “literally” as its exact opposite? Yes, I’m pretty sure the speaker did not “literally die” when so-and-so walked out on stage in that costume, but couldn’t the speaker have expressed the same feelings with “I almost died” or some similar phrase?

Don’t worry, my rant is almost over.

Writers should strive for clarity; there’s seldom a good reason for purposeful ambiguity. Unless you’re writing dialogue for a specific character, you should avoid using “literally” to mean “figuratively.” Feel free to use “virtually” or “almost” or just about anything other than “literally” unless you mean it, well, literally.

And for those who truly care about words and want to avoid their needless slaughter, please stop using “literally” as “figuratively” in conversation. Please, it literally makes my head hurt.

You were a good word, literally. I’m sorry this had to happen to you. You will be missed.

Serial: Killers bad, commas good.

By Joshua | August 21, 2015 - 8:19 pm | general writing, grammar, punctuation

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Everyone who likes to read about writing has read something about the serial, or Oxford, comma. The band Vampire Weekend even has a song about it, but I disagree with their take: “Who gives a **** about an Oxford comma…” I, for one, have strong feelings about the serial comma. And I think you should. For anyone who doesn’t know, the serial comma refers to the last comma before a conjunction when you’re dealing with a list. A classic example:

I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa, and the Pope.

The serial comma refers to the comma right after “Teresa” in the example. This is a classic example for a simple reason; in it, removing the serial comma changes the meaning of the sentence.

With the serial comma there is only one way to read the sentence. I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa, and the Pope:

Without the serial comma it is ambiguous. I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa and the Pope, could mean:

You see the difference.

The Associated Press’s style guide advises against the serial comma, but we have to take that opinion with a grain of salt, because the AP is just as (or more) interested in saving space where it can than it is about specificity. Virtually all other writing authorities recommend using the serial comma, to avoid the ambiguities shown above. Although context can sometimes make it obvious what the writer means—most readers probably will not assume that Mother Teresa and the Pope are your parents—why take the chance? If you are dead-set on avoiding the serial comma, changing the order on your list can make all the difference. There is little confusion to be had if the sentence reads: I’d like you to meet Mother Teresa, the Pope and my parents. But the problem is completely avoided by adding one little punctuation mark.

My vote, as you can see by my title, has been cast. When it comes to the comma, serial is good.

What are your thoughts? Does anyone have examples of the serial comma causing problems? I’d also like to hear your favorite, preferably humorous, ambiguities that could have been avoided by using a serial comma.