My Blog

By Joe Diorio

Mark Edwards has a long list of writing tips, and there is a tinge of irony to them. 

“Rule #683: Don’t ever write it down – plot, story, sentence – unless it’s PERFECT IN YOUR MIND.” 

“Rule #677: Your first draft is FANTASTIC. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” 

“Rule #676: Each day open the thesaurus and find cool new words – and just jam them into whatever you’re working on.” 

OK, so his advice is loaded with irony. Edwards is a communications and media studies adjunct instructor at Sacred Heart University in Fairfield, Conn., and he’s encountered his share of would be Hemingways. His writing tips appear on his Facebook page. 

His advice is a stress relief tool and a reminder to remain vigilant when writing something you want someone else to read. Edwards recalls a lesson from one of his MFA instructors, poet Wayne Brown. “He was very no-nonsense. He upset someone in a workshop when he said, ‘this is beautifully written, but who outside of your family would want to read this?’” 

He shares a personal story when a writer he considered a mentor sat him down and said, “All right, you are good enough where I can tell you how bad your writing is without making you stop writing.” Harsh? Perhaps. But sometimes harsh is necessary. 

“There’s a kind of narcissism that ties into people’s writing where it’s all about them rather than, God forbid, writing three sentences in a row that are compelling,” Edwards says. 

Are there over 600 writing tips that Edwards has written down somewhere? “In my mind, perhaps yes.” Part of it, Edwards explains, is the nature of the internet. “You always feel you are suddenly coming in on the middle of an ongoing thing. I have no objection to faking that.”  

I have waited with baited (bated?) breath to tell you this 

April 23^rd marked the 454^th birthday of William Shakespeare, the man who first committed to paper many of the phrases and words we use today. Jen Horner, marketing manager for MTM LinguaSoft, wrote about the evolution of phrases and terms of Shakespearian lore.  

For example, in The Merchant of Venice, Shylock asks whether his customers should expect him to speak “with bated breath and whisp’ring humbleness.” Notice it is “bated” rather than “baited.”  

“Bate,” Horner explains, comes from “abate” or “abatre” in old French, which means to beat down or diminish. Shylock, in this passage, is asking if he should stifle himself and speak in a hushed tone.  

“Nowadays we don’t speak with bated breath – we wait with bated breath,” Horner writes. “What’s more, lots of us wait with “baited” breath. I suppose we are hoping the bait on our breath will attract the thing we want, like the cat who eats cheese then waits by the mouse-hole.”  

From the mail bag 

Several readers asked me to explain the difference between affect and effect. Rather than me speaking from the authoritative podium, I’ll turn to a colleague, Tim Fallis, an assistant professor at Hawai’i Pacific University, who addresses that head on in a writing class for his students.  

In a detailed PowerPoint presentation, Fallis explains that affect the verb means to impact or change. Affect the noun refers to someone’s disposition as reflected in their expression or posture. Conversely, effect the verb is to bring about or make happen, and effect the noun is the result of a change. He also notes that affect the noun and effect the verb are rarely used. 

“English is a polyglot, messy, terrible language,” he tells his students. “Get over your disappointment and learn how to deal with it!” 

Details matter 

The fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris had many news organizations referring to Paris as the “City of Lights.” Not quite. Paris is the “City of Light” (singular) because in the 18th century it was considered a place of enlightenment; the city was a hub of education philosophy, and learning. It also was one of the first major cities to utilize gas lights to illuminate the streets.

A small detail, perhaps, but part of Fallis’ presentation explains why someone should care about small details. “You don’t want to come off as an uneducated buffoon. You do want to impress your reader with your precise and careful erudition. You do want to communicate with absolute clarity; otherwise, you’re wasting your time and your readers’.” 

And as Mark Edwards points out, you want to write something that more than your family wants to read. 

Let’s write carefully out there, people.

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

 

By Joe Diorio

My 2018 Toyota Camry probably has more pickup than the 1967 Shelby Cobra I drove as a young man.* The national speed limit was 55 miles per hour back then. It’s up to 70 now in most places, indicating that limits are being extended.

I’ll let sociologists and urban studies experts decide if there’s a connection between increased horsepower and speed limits. My point (and I do have one, as goes the title of a great book by Ellen DeGeneres) is that rules can change as things evolve.  

Our language is a great example of rules changing. At one time the grammar police (“to serve and correct” is their motto) would cite the errant writer who verbs too many nouns. Take “weaponize” for example. Really, please take it. 

• The New York Times on March 9: “How Congress is weaponizing a series of hot-button votes.”
• Politico.com on February 27: “New York GOP looks to weaponize Amazon fallout.”
• Salon on December 7, 2018: “How mainstream media helps weaponize far-right conspiracy theories.”
• And the one that fried my cheese happened in Legal Sports Report on March 7: “MLB Makes First Move to Weaponize Official Data In Lineup Dustup.” There’s no crying or verbing nouns in baseball, as far as I’m concerned.

The article “ize” is a verb-forming suffix that comes from words that entered the language from Latin or French, like baptize, or barbarize. It is added to adjectives and nouns to form transitive verbs with the general senses “to render” or “make” and it converts or gives a specified character or form to something.  

The “ize” extension is getting a boost from the Tennessee Department of Transportation (TDOT) as it rebuilds Interstate 440, a partial beltway surrounding Nashville. The concrete and pothole-festooned surface of the highway must first be removed. To do this, TDOT is using a huge machine, the “Badger Breaker,” to break up the concrete surface of the highway and use the remaining rubble as the base of the new highway.          

In a recent television interview, Kathryn Schulte, community relations officer for TDOT, referred to this process as rubblization. This essentially “nouns” a verb that had once been a noun. And if you think that sentence is confusing, try driving on 440 during rush hour nowadays … an endeavor TDOT suggests we avoid, just as I plead for the avoidance of “weaponize,” but I’m digressing again. 

TDOT admits that rubblization as well as its friends “rubblize,” “rubblized,” and “rubblizing” are absent from the dictionary, but rightfully (yes, rightfully) stands by its usage.  

“I think there is a gray area somewhere in the rubble of our 440 project (see what I did there?),” says TDOT’s Heather Jensen. She and Schulte point out that the term is germane to highway construction. Having worked in high tech for many years – where IBM would refer to overhead projector transparencies as “foils” – I concede there are words that are unique to the industry one works in. I’d say we shouldn’t weaponize our disparagement of new words.

Let’s write carefully out there, people.

Joseph Diorio

* Full disclosure: I drove it when my sister – the Cobra’s rightful owner – let me borrow the keys.

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

By Joe Diorio

“Joseph, you apologize to Thomas like you mean it.” It’s an admonishment I vividly recall some 50-plus years after my fourth-grade teacher directed me to express my regrets for punching a classmate. I had already muttered “I’m sorry,” but that wasn’t cutting it with Mrs. Barachini. I dug an adverb out of my vocabulary, saying “I’m REALLY sorry, Thomas” to get me out of a one-way ticket to the principal’s office. 

(Post script – I wasn’t sorry. Thomas was a jerk and deserved that knuckle sandwich.) 

My post script is the rub – “rub” being a phrase first used by Shakespeare in Hamlet, but there I go digressing again. My point is that a stack of adjectives or adverbs are often used to strengthen the sincerity of an apology.  

Consider that within the past month several public officials were caught with their hands in the racist action cookie jar – see Ralph Northam and Bill Lee for details, maybe with a side of Mark Herring – and all cracked open the nearest thesaurus to make sure everyone knows they’re really, really sorry. Northam said he is “deeply sorry.” Herring used a double-deeply for his mea culpa, while Lee said he has come to regret his actions. 

Using an adjective to modify a noun is a grammatical practice that has roots in Latin; it is an adjectīvum or additional noun. The use of said modifiers by politicians and one hot-headed fourth grader is described as predictive usage, in that they modify and – basically – strengthen the noun. The use of the double adverb by Herring may have changed the second “deeply” into an adjective, but let’s not go down that rabbit hole (Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland. Stop Googling it.). An adverb’s function is to limit or extend the significance of a verb. Its Latin roots come from adverbium, literally “that which is added to a verb.” 

How effective adverbs and adjectives are at enhancing the sincerity of one’s regret is left to the recipient of the act. Mrs. Barachini believed me. Thomas, meanwhile, punched me in the back of the head the next day when no one was looking. 

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

By Joe Diorio

I have said in jest in this newsletter that words hurt. The reality is that words can do far worse than hurt. They can cause stress and more serious health situations. 

In a report paid for by the National Science Foundation, Vanderbilt University Professor Ebony O. McGee says terms like “Asian fail” and “Black genius” are neither a joke or a compliment. Her research shows they are derogatory and marginalize those who are the targets of such terminology.  

“Asian fail” is in the Urban Dictionary and is defined as to not get an “A” in a class. While “Black genius” is not in the Urban Dictionary it is frequently used to insinuate that an individual is bright beyond a stereotype. Both are psychologically detrimental, Prof. McGee says.  

“Racialized labels foster marginalization, which can have negative effects on the body and the mind,” argues Prof. McGee. “Both of these racial groups endure emotional distress because each respond with an unrelenting motivation to succeed that imposes significant costs.” 

Prof. McGee understands this from personal experience, having worked as an engineer before her time as a college professor. She said she was the target of comments about her gender and race that undermined her abilities. 

In the report, she encourages coalition-building among racial groups in order to build psychosocial coping skills, as well as other strategies for dealing with the effects of stereotypes and labeling. 

From the “Squad Squad” Files 

Last month the White House said the State of the Union speech should be delivered “on time and on schedule.” One late night host mined that for humor to say the two terms were redundant. Well, not exactly. 

Oxford defines on time as being “punctual” or “in good time.” A third definition offered is “on schedule,” which Oxford also defines as “on time, as planned or expected.” 

Our language is rife with homonyms (words with the same spelling and pronunciation, but have different meanings), homophones (words with the same pronunciation, but different spelling and meanings), and homographs (words spelled the same but have different pronunciations and meanings), so it isn’t surprising that there could be multiple combinations of words that mean either the same thing or slightly different things.  

It’s a close call – closer than this year’s Super Bowl, for sure – but I recall a lesson from more than one teacher who said one should go with the first definition in the dictionary. By that lesson, then, if you use the first definition of “on time” (punctual), it appears there is a slight difference between “on time” and “on schedule.” Penalty flag to the late-night comic in this case. 

Going without words – priceless 

In early January MasterCard said it would stop using the name “MasterCard” in its graphic designs and just go with the interlocking circles. The company’s reasoning is that the image of the circles is well-known – enough so that the text is redundant. Nike and Target have similar tactics in their marketing. Nonverbal communication is a learned form of communications, growing out of a society’s culture. Since MasterCard has been around for 52 years, the company probably figures it’s enough a part of the culture to get cozy with us.  

And lastly 

A recent presentation by my colleague Mike Deas, “The Art of Logic in Language,” pointed to disconnects we commit when communicating, such as two signs at a motor vehicle inspection station. The first one tells car drivers to turn off their radios, yet the second sign says, “For More Information Tune to 107.5 on your radio.” His presentation reminded me of one of my favorite pet peeves: the sign in a restaurant bathroom that reads, “Employees Must Wash Hands.” Trust me, I have stood in that damn bathroom and no employee shows up to wash my hands. (Think about that one.) 

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

By Joe Diorio

I avoid political discussions in this newsletter and won’t break that rule now. But since I reserve the January issue for my celebration of Festivus, the airing of grievances, I will point to a December 27, 2018 story in The New York Times explaining that the shutdown of the federal government boils down to one’s definition of the word “wall.” Concrete, steel, and a beaded curtain were offered up as examples. 

For whatever it’s worth, the dictionary defines “wall” as a continuous vertical brick or stone structure that encloses or divides an area of land. That seems to exclude beaded curtains, but I’m sure the debate will continue. 

Decorative border accoutrements aside, the past year provided many opportunities to lengthen the Festivus pole. Here are but a few: 

They are graduates, not a chemical. A dean at an institution of higher education where I worked (I worked for Vanderbilt University and the University of Pennsylvania. Let the guessing games begin.) frequently referred to a graduate as an “alum.” This person isn’t alone in making that mistake. The word “alum” is short for potassium aluminum oxide, a colorless astringent compound that is a hydrated double sulfate of aluminum and potassium, used in solution medicinally and in dyeing and tanning … and that is more than you probably ever want to know about alum. 

However, an “alumnus” is a male graduate. An “alumna” is a female graduate. “Alumni” is the plural for male and female graduates, while “alumnae” is the plural for female graduates. I just explain the rules. I don’t make them. 

By land or by sea. Sadly, 2018 had more than its share of occasions to lower the flag halfway. Here’s hoping we’ll need to do that less often in 2019. But if we do, remember that lowering the flag on a flagpole that’s in the ground is lowering it to “half-staff,” whereas lowering it on a boat is “half-mast.” 

Recognize that language is evolving. There are those – I was recently among them – who would argue that the pronoun “they” is plural. Yet the use of “they” as singular, especially for non-binary individuals, is largely accepted today. Language evolves and absorbs over time. Sometimes it takes a while, since Emily Dickinson was using “they” as singular over 100 years ago when she wrote “Almost anyone under the circumstances would have doubted if [the letter] were theirs, or indeed if they were …” Also, I rarely argue with Merriam-Webster.  

Stop relying on spellcheck. This is a good New Year’s resolution for everyone. A flyer for a New Holland, PA charity’s open house said, “Donations Excepted.” Spelled correctly, all right, but a bit confusing to the reader.  

Conversely, stop and look when that red line shows up under text. An on-screen graphic accompanying a TV news story about a big game between the Tennessee Titans and the Indianapolis Colts said post-game coverage would include “Players Reax.” The word “reax” appears in the Urban Dictionary as an alternative to “reaction.” Go slow with absorbing new words. Especially for those of us who are hipness-challenged. 

And a holiday kudos goes to … I usually find cause to beat on the press for grammatical miscues, but on December 22, 2018 humor writer Ysabel Yates penned a wonderful op ed in The New York Times where she offered some critical edits to the song “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Here’s a sample:  

“’You would even say it glows’ feels a little flat. Add a simile here, and make sure it’s consistent with [the] character. For example, ‘Glows like the end of every cigarette he swore would be his last.’”  

Happy New Year, and 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