My Blog

By Joe Diorio

My mother disliked the word “ain’t.” She’d say, “ain’t ain’t in the dictionary.”

Sorry, Mom, but ain’t is indeed in the dictionary; it has been around since 1749, according to Merriam-Webster. It is one of those words that grammatical purists dislike.

There are several words we may dislike. But they are words, nevertheless.

Case in point one: “I am so tired of seeing the word ‘irregardless’ everywhere I look,” carps one reader. “Can’t we get rid of it once and for all?”

Sadly, for the haters of “irregardless,” that word ain’t going anywhere. Yes, it is a word, first used, according to Merriam Webster, in 1785. Most trace its first appearance in the southeastern U.S. colonies. This is my long-winded way of saying that reader who is tired of seeing the word must be exhausted by now.

Lexicographers cringe over words like “irregardless.” Kory Stamper in her wonderful book Word by Word: the secret life of dictionaries spends an entire chapter explaining (apologizing?) that “irregardless” is a word. I also should note that Merriam Webster spends a good deal of time in its definition modifying its approval of the word and even urges the reader to use “regardless” instead.

Case in point two: “The sound of the phrase ‘take a listen’ is like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard,” another reader says in an email.

I feel your pain. Local TV reported that police have an audio tape containing the confession delivered by a convicted murderer. “Take a listen” the TV news reporter wrote in her August 7 Twitter feed, directing people to a hyperlink of the audio recording. As unnerving as the confession may be, hearing “take a listen” can work the nerves, too.

Irregardless of how the reader feels, “take a listen” is not incorrect. The word “listen” is often used as a noun, meaning it is correct to use the modifier “take” before it. Personally, I would simply say “listen.”

By the way, I have recently noticed that Instagram fans are using the phrase “give a follow” when mentioning another Instagram account worth their attention. Again, whilst “follow” is primarily a transitive verb, it also functions as a noun, so adding the verb “give” is correct. Annoying? Yes, perhaps. But also correct.

Lastly, there is a Facebook meme that says “Supposably. It still is not a word.” Welp, Facebook has been around since 2003 but “supposably,” an adverb form of the adjective “supposable,” is a word and was first used in 1627. I’ll wait while you go revise your Facebook news feeds.

Our survey said

In the August blog I talked about the pros and cons of creating an internal editorial style guide. I also asked readers to share their opinions via a short survey.

Turns out that internal style guides are popular. A total of 63 percent of the respondents say their employers do use an internally created editorial style guide, and a whopping 84 percent say the task of creating one fell on their shoulders.

Despite my admonition that creating a style guide should be avoided (just use the AP Stylebook and the Chicago Manual of Style), 78 percent of the respondents say they find internal style guides useful. One respondent said internal guides cover grammatical nuances germane to their business.

“For example, is it Homeowners Insurance (initial cap) or homeowners’ insurance (lowercase)? […] I know my boss prefers caps […] especially if it relates to one of our products,” one respondent wrote.

With respect, the boss is wrong. The term “homeowners’ insurance” is generic and therefore lowercase. (At least I think it’s still generic, even though Ohio State University is trying to trademark the word “The.”) If it is a specific product, like “Acme Homeowners Insurance and Storm Doors,” then it would be uppercase. And, by the by, all that is covered in the AP Stylebook. But there I go digressing again.

I prefer a story shared by a colleague; TV journalist David North, who was participating in a summer boot camp for aspiring high school journalists at Stony Brook University along with a couple of other veteran TV reporters. “During my session [we] were confronted with a style/usage question from a student. All three of us reached into our bags to consult our copies of Strunk and White. I think (hope) we made a positive impression.” You did with me, David. Thanks.

Let’s write carefully out there, people.

Joe Diorio is a writer living in Nashville, Tennessee. You should tell your friends and colleagues about him. 

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By Joe Diorio

The character of Mr. Data on “Star Trek: The Next Generation,” an android played by actor Brent Spiner, did not use contractions when he spoke. It was a linguistic trick used by the writers of that television series to emphasize that Data was a machine, albeit a very lifelike one.

Star Trek’s writers also had some fun with an alternative Data character, specifically his evil twin brother, Lore, (yes, there was an “evil Data”) who did use contractions when he spoke. That was another linguistic trick to help viewers tell the two characters – both played by Mr. Spiner with the help of special effects – apart.

OK, a quick mea culpa. The writers occasionally slipped up and put a contraction or two in Mr. Data’s dialogue, as this blog points out in a level of detail only die-hard fans of the Star Trek universe would appreciate.

That said, to address the elephant in the room, Mr. Data would have said “I do not see why it would not be Russia” while Lore would have said “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be Russia.”

The use – or non-use – of contractions is understandable. They are a part of language that have been a part of the spoken word for well over 400 years. Today they make us sound more conversational, and they probably shave a millisecond or two off the time it takes to write some sentences or phrases.

The earliest contractions were used in the seventh century, in the language of Old English. That’s what everyone spoke when Beowulf was a best-seller … or best-listen, since scholars suspect that epic story was first told as a campfire story in the pre-flashlight-in-the-face time.

Some of the contractions used in Old English include:

Nis for Neis or is not
Naefde for ne haefde or did not have
Naes for ne weaes or was not
Nolde for ne wolde or would not (See what I just did there?)

One wonders if Beowulf would have said “Yfel wîtan forhwon yfel sîn Grendel’s sweostor.” (Translation: “I don’t see why I wouldn’t be Grendel’s father.”) But I digress.

Old English faded away, but contractions certainly did not. Shakespeare loved them:

Durst/dared
Doth/do or does
Dar’st/dare
Choice/scold
Ere/before
Fare you well/good bye
Ha’/have
Hast/have
Prithee/I pray thee or I ask thee
Sham’st/are ashamed
Whit/a bit or piece
Whe’er/whenever

Since the character of Mr. Data was highly cerebral, it comes as no surprise that academic writing shuns the use of contractions. A blog for the American Psychological Association Publication Manual, one of the cornerstone reference guides for scholarly scribes, gives a Miss Thistlebottom “tisk tisk” to the use of contractions, cautioning “Contractions are a part of informal writing. Thus, avoid contractions in scholarly writing.”

As with any part of our language, there are exceptions – reproduction of dialect and quotations, an academic paper specifically about contractions, and use of idioms (“don’t count your chickens before they hatch”), to name a few.

Let’s write carefully – really carefully – out there, people.

 

Above left: Operation Overlord. Above right: An overloaded truck. (I’ll explain later. I promise.)

By Joe Diorio

As America celebrates the 243^rd anniversary of its independence (“Happy Treason Day, colonists” as they jokingly say in the U.K.), I’m reminded of a brilliant piece of writing by none other than Dr. Benjamin Franklin.

The framers of the Constitution were squabbling over how best to decide who gets to vote in a popular election. One side argued that only men who owned property should vote. Franklin’s side opposed this and offered a lengthy and verbose explanation supporting their argument. I’m afraid our over reliance on Google searches and consequent short attention span prevents me from sharing their long-winded argument. Instead, here is Dr. Franklin’s brilliant summation of why property ownership should not determine who gets to vote.

To require property of voters leads us to this dilemma: I own a jackass; I can vote. The jackass dies; I cannot vote. Therefore, the vote represents not me but the jackass.*

Brevity is beautiful, isn’t it?

* That may be a shorter version of his actual quote. Go easy on me.

The votes are in, y’all

“Y’all” is either plural or both singular and plural, so says the readers of this newsletter. And it ain’t singular, y’hear?

Last month I polled readers asking if “y’all” is singular or plural, and whether it’s OK to use the word if you live north of the Mason-Dixon Line. Respondents weren’t shy in offering an opinion.

52% said it is plural, and 42% said both. Only 6% said singular. “Y’all can be singular or plural,” one respondent wrote. “’All, y’all’ is always plural.”

Also, 59% of the respondents said it’s OK to use “y’all” if you live up north. “It should not be used by conscious decision,” one reader said. “Rather unconsciously as a result of being submerged in the Southern culture for a period of time that results in an unconscious use of the term. For me, it took about 20 years.”

Anybody up for a survey about “ya’s” (singular) and “youse” (plural)?

Dial pound … wait what?

A national litigation law firm uses the following phrase in its advertising: “Dial pound (number), that’s all.”

Who dials a number anymore? And how the heck can you dial the pound sign? AND will anyone know what you are talking about when you use said terminology?

“If you ask a millennial then for sure it’s outdated. Ask someone my age and they’d know exactly what you mean,” says Linda Barlow, a freelance writer in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. She points out that, for millennials, it’s not a pound sign but a hashtag. And neither can be found on the dial of a rotary phone.

Barlow does a lot of work for Comcast, so writing “dial a number” is definitely verboten. “Perhaps younger people just aren’t [this law firm’s] target market,” she says.

“I think there are phrases that have entered colloquial speech that we don’t necessarily have to know the original meaning to know the intent,” says Char Vandermeer, a freelance writer in Nashville. She points out that “drop a dime” is an example of an obsolete phone-related phrase that (quite likely) only devoted readers of noir literature would understand.

“Plus ‘drop a dime’ is a wonderfully loaded expression,” she says. “It’s more than simply making a call; specifically it refers to the act of calling the police or someone in power to rat someone out.”

Notice that I did not mention the law firm by name. I’m not “diming” them.

Facts matter, so we need to get them right

Last month marked the 75^th Anniversary of D-Day, the allied invasion of Nazi occupied France. While reporting the anniversary, a young television news anchor in Nashville referred to the event as “Operation Overload.”

She was soooo close to being right. The correct name was “Operation Overlord,” which was the code name for the battle of Normandy. The amphibious operation to bring the 150,000-plus troops ashore to fight said battle was code named “Operation Neptune.” Together, they took place on D-Day, June 6, 1944.

If you are rolling your eyes after reading the above paragraphs, then please stop. These facts matter. Presenting readers or listeners with precise and careful erudition is the crux of good writing. Getting even small details wrong leads to accusations of fake news or worse. That’s why I always conclude every issue of this newsletter with the same admonition:

Let’s write carefully out there, people.

Joe Diorio is a writer living in Nashville. He wouldn’t mind if you told your friends and colleagues about him.

By Joe Diorio

I am, as I am sure we all are, familiar with the subject of political correctness, or P.C. I’m not an expert, but I am familiar. 

For example, someone isn’t short, so goes the joke, they are “vertically challenged.” I am bald, but the P.C. police prefer I say that I use more toothpaste than shampoo. (OK, I made that one up, but I AM bald, or hair follicle challenged.)

Some commonly used P.C. terms include visually impaired (“blind” is only used when the individual cannot see anything), hard of hearing (similarly, “deaf” is only used when the individual cannot hear anything), intellectually disabled, and “handi-capable” for someone who is physically impaired.

Do these terms go too far? A group of researchers think so.

An article in Rehabilitation Psychology, a journal of the American Psychological Association, argues that “disability” isn’t a dirty word and is perfectly fine to use in place of clunky terminology like “handi-capable,” “differently-abled,” and even “physically challenged.” Not using the word “disability” can have unintended and adverse consequences.

“Decisions about language have important sociocultural meanings in the disability community, and erasure of the term ‘disability’ can evoke fear and frustration among those who claim a disabled identity and align with disability culture,” the authors say. 

“Having a disability is not something to be ashamed of,” says Anjali Forber-Pratt, Ph.D., a professor at Vanderbilt University’s Peabody College and one of the six authors of the article. Forber-Pratt and her co-authors all identify as disabled female scholars and psychologists. Forber-Pratt is a former Paralympian and studies identity development at Vanderbilt. The authors are promoting a #SaytheWord social media movement in order to embrace disability identity. 

“The field of psychology has a rich tradition of appreciation of cultural diversity and individual difference,” Forber-Pratt says. “Yet, disability has largely been left out of these efforts. The disability movement is moving toward the status of a diverse cultural group with a social justice agenda parallel to those of other marginalized communities.”

The article promotes use of the social media hashtag #SaytheWord to encourage everyone to be comfortable using the term disability, and the hashtag has started a conversation. “I prefer ‘disability’ to ‘unique challenges’ or ‘special needs’ or ‘extraordinary.’ Disability isn’t special. It’s normal,” one person wrote on Twitter. “DISABILITY is not a dirty word!! ‘Access Inclusion Seeker’ is just offensive,” said another person.

By the way, recently Major League Baseball has ceased referring to a list of players injured and unable to play as the “Disabled List” and instead calls it the “Injured List.” I’m all for baseball standing up to #SaytheWord.

Y’all gotta read this

Frequently when I am engaged in conversation here in Nashville someone will stop me and say “Y’all aren’t from around here, are ya?” I grew up in Connecticut, just 50 miles from Manhattan, and apparently my combination of a New Yorker/New Englander accent hasn’t vanished.

In the situation I just mentioned the word “y’all” is being used as a singular pronoun, and there is a share of disagreement as to whether “y’all” is singular or plural. I’m currently reading Dreyer’s English by Benjamin Dreyer, copy chief for Random House publisher, and while he won’t touch the singular/plural argument he argues that non-southerners should never use the term. I did, briefly, after moving here in 2015 but stopped because it didn’t feel right. 

Two questions for you, dear readers. Is “y’all” singular or plural? And is it OK for someone living north of the Mason-Dixon line to use the term? Here’s a survey; let me know what you think.

Let’s write carefully out there, y’all.