When it comes to writing, I have strong feelings about certain
things – semi-colons are evil and should be avoided like a coiled rattlesnake
in a sandy creek bed. About others, I take a live-and-let-live attitude.
The Oxford comma, for instance, is a
nuisance I’d rather avoid. But if you like it, use it by all means. Just be
consistent, dammit. Use it once and you’ve committed yourself to employing it
throughout your work, whether it be a postcard taunting friends about the Caribbean
beach upon which you currently are luxuriating or the 700-page manuscript of
the Great American Novel you’ve been crafting for a decade.
Seat of the pants
I'm a reasonable man. You’ll get no
fiery lectures here about the unforgiveable sin of run-on sentences, the
blasted impertinence of pronoun-antecedent disagreement or the shrill
denunciation of using “they’re” when “their” is clearly required.
None of that from me. I’m a largely
self-taught, seat-of-the-pants grammarian, for good or ill. I couldn’t explain
the difference between a participle and a polecat if my life depended on it.
Backed into a corner and with a rapier’s point at my throat, I might be able to
explain the proper usage of “whom” and “who.” But maybe not.
I have a good ear, if I say so myself. And
I frequently rely on it to guide my grammatical decisions. If it sounds right,
I’m likely to go with it. This defiantly unorthodox method is not infallible,
but it works frequently enough to serve as a preferable alternative to the byzantine
twists and turns found in your typical grammar text.
Principles remain
Alas, I’m neither Strunk nor White. The only
real grammar course I ever had was in 1963 in the 7th grade. Mrs.
James, my long-suffering English teacher at Goliad Junior High in Big Spring, sent
us to the blackboard every blasted day to diagram sentences. Despite the
hostility she must have felt radiating from her students, she worked hard, God
bless her, to drill the basics of grammar into our thick, West Texas skulls.
Most leaked out, but a few principles
remained, enough to get me through high school, college and a 37-year newspaper
career as a reporter and editor.
Which brings us to this blog.
I’m not here to preach, scold or harangue.
To me, grammar is not a set of immutable laws that confine and restrict, a
dogma to be followed regardless of consequence, its hair-shirted adherents
bound heart and soul to its rigid, eternal tenets.
Rather, it’s a roadmap that eases writers
through a chaotic, confusing world, offering friendly guidance – rather than
harsh, unyielding direction – to find an elegant phrase, a cogent explanation
or a heartfelt sentiment we’d like to share with the world.
Grammar is our friend, not our master. It
helps us achieve understanding, clarity and precision – the goals of all
writers, whether we realize it or not – without sacrificing wit, grace or
majesty.
Good writers understand this and behave
accordingly. They know enough about grammar to know when they can bend the
rules, when they can carefully sidestep them and when they can ignore them
altogether.
One-eyed man
When they do it, it often results in
brilliant literature. When an amateur does it, it’s a mess.
In the interest of full disclosure, I
understand all too well that I’m not really qualified to write a blog about grammar,
usage and other writing pitfalls. At various points in my life, however, I’ve
found myself, through no fault of my own, regarded as the resident grammarian.
Goliad’s Mrs. James would have a merry chuckle
at that. Nevertheless, I'm guided by the old saw: In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is
king.
When I briefly taught copy-editing at the
University of Missouri’s renowned School of Journalism in the mid-1980s, I
soon discovered that my students were woefully ignorant of grammar. Like me, many had
never had a true grammar course since middle school.
So I reluctantly became a jumped-up grammar
teacher, composing down-and-dirty study guides and presenting vastly simplified
grammar tutorials. The students hated it, and so did I. Did they learn anything? It was hard to tell from their surly attitude. But I did.
In my present job as communications
director at UNT Health Science Center, I’m regularly consulted about grammar,
usage and style matters, mostly because folks there are aware of my newspaper
background.
Consistency
I answer their questions authoritatively,
even those about which I have no real expertise. Mostly, I’ve been able to
provide the right answers, thanks to a good dictionary and a shelf of reference
books. But even when I can’t, I’ve learned that the secret to success is not so
much having the right answers as it is in simply being consistent.
Truth be told, this won't be a grammar blog, at all. It will drift more naturally toward matters of usage and style, about which I have a passing fancy, and how they contribute to good writing.
Then why call this little exercise Grammar Goat?
Mostly
because it sounds silly. Irreverent. Ornery. Slightly bawdy. All the things I
hope this blog will be from time to time. There’s another reason, perhaps the
most important one of all.
The name came to me in a dream. How can
you resist an inspiration like that?
