Every Day or Everyday? by Annette Lyon

Which do you use? When? What’s the difference? Is there one?

The everyday/every day mix-up is easily one of the most common mistakes I see in my editing work and one of the most common questions I’m asked.

Kinda figured it made sense to address it here. I do mention it in There, Their, They’re as well, and I think I do a pretty good job of it. But recently, I had a brain flash about how to explain it even better.

I’m hereby using that brain flash in this post and reserving the right to reprint it in the second edition of the book. ‘Cause I can do that. 🙂

Every day
This phrase is pretty much what it sounds like: something that happens on a daily basis.

Examples:
I brush my teeth every day.
Every day, I send my kids off to school.
I check the mail every day for another rejection.

It’s easy to know whether to keep the space.

Just ask: Can I add the word “single” between “every” and “day” and have it make sense?

If so, keep the space:

I brush my teeth every single day.
Every single day, I send my kids off to school.
I check the mail every single day for another rejection.

They all work. Woohoo!

Everyday (one word)
Going all technical for a second, this is one word because it’s an adjective. It describes what comes next.

Try replacing “everyday” with a different adjective, one that means something similar, like:

  • regular
  • usual
  • typical
  • normal
  • common

Does the sentence still work?

For example:
Running out of toilet paper around here is an everyday (normal/typical) event.

Her everyday (typical/regular) migraines are debilitating.

Is this type of outburst an everyday (normal/common) occurrence for your daughter?

 

If you notice, those kinds of words don’t work as replacements for the two-word variety (every day):

I brush my teeth every day (typical/normal?).
Every day (regular, common?), I send my kids off to school.
I check the mail every day (usual, normal, typical?) for another rejection.

 

In summary:

Ask: Can you replace the phrase with a word such as regular, typical, normal, common, or usual?

If YES: Make it ONE word, no spaces (everyday). It’s an adjective.

If NO: Use TWO words and a space (every day). The phrase is just referring to a regular time period.

If you’ve decided the phrase needs a space, test it further by adding “single” between “every” and “day,” making it, “every single day.” Does it still make sense? If so, you’re good to go.

See? Easy peasy.

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of nine novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

Why Punctuation Matters by Annette Lyon

People joke that I’m the Grammar Nazi.

My critique group says that I know exactly how to use commas (and then they go comatose, and tweet about it, if I try to explain why a semicolon is correct on page 5).

For that matter, rumor has it that when they speak about our group and mention members’ strengths, they bring up punctuation as my strength.

While I do know my fair share of punctuation rules, I do like to hope that in the 12 years I’ve been there I’ve been worth more than fixing comma splices. 🙂

But yes, I do care about punctuation more than the average reader or writer. Why? Because it adds nuance and meaning that nothing else can. The same words can have a totally different meaning with a few different punctuation marks.

This is true with big issues like pacing, tone, and mood.

But to make my point, I’ll go a bit over the top.

First off, read Lynne Truss’s Eats, Shoots, and Leaves (the title of which is a punctuation joke). If you think punctuation is stale and boring, read that book. I read it on the treadmill and nearly fell off, I was laughing so hard.

Truss has several other titles, including picture books. I own one of them, and my kids love it. My third grader took it to school for show-and-tell. (And probably had to explain it to the class . . .)

 

To make my point about how punctuation can change meaning, here are three fun examples:

1) I’ve seen this one go around Facebook under the guise of, “Punctuation saves lives!”

Let’s eat Grandpa.
(I doubt he’s very tasty)

versus:

Let’s eat, Grandpa.
(Yo, Grandpa, dinner’s ready! I’ll race ya to the table!)

 

2) I saw this one in college during my nerd training (read: English major studies). The professor, a woman, wrote the following sentence on the board:

Woman, without her man, is nothing.

I was rather incensed. Until she changed the punctuation.

Woman: without her, man is nothing.

And then I laughed.

3) One of Lynne Truss’s books, Twenty-odd Ducks, includes a punctuation joke right on the cover with the title. With the hyphen, the title means, “roughly twenty ducks.” If you take the hyphen out, it means, “twenty weird ducks.” So the cover has twenty funky ducks: some that are striped, one ready to go snorkeling, and so on.

Even the subtitle has a play on punctuation: Why, Punctuation Matters

On each page spread, the book has the same sentence but with different punctuation (and therefore different meanings), plus illustrations to match.

You need to get your hands on a copy. Really. As proof, I present my kids’ favorite 2-page spread from the book. It’s gruesome, which may be why they love it.

The first page shows a king strolling near a group of girls bowing and throwing flowers at him as he says, “Ah, life is grand.” The caption reads as follows:

The king walked and talked. Half an hour later, his head was cut off.

The second page makes the whole thing read as one sentence, which changes the meaning drastically:

The king walked and talked half an hour after his head was cut off.

Above the caption: three illustrations showing the king decapitated and his head talking (“Why can’t I feel my lips?”) as his body walks around.

Hysterical, if you ask me. At the end of the book, Truss manages (quite brilliantly) to write an entire letter to a school teacher on one page and then changes the meaning entirely using nothing but punctuation on the other.

Convinced that punctuation matters? I hope so. At the very least, remember point number one: punctuation saves lives.

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of eight novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

Most Common Misspelled Words by Annette Lyon

YourDictionary.com put together a list of the 100 most misspelled words. (Check it: MISSPELLED is one of them. hah!) They even have explanations to help you remember the correct spellings.

Find the full list HERE.

A few of my favorites:

acceptable
For some reason, I tend to spell the ending with the other, similar-sounding suffix: ible. Since it made the list, I must not be alone.

a lot
Okay, technically not A word. It’s two words. But therein lies the problem: people commonly spell it as alot. There is no such word. Unless you mean allot, “to assign as a share or portion” (see Merriam-Webster).

calendar
I know it doesn’t sound like it, but this word ends in AR, not ER. A, people. A.

conscience/conscious
A commonly confused word pair in addition to both words being commonly misspelled. Conscience is that cricket on your shoulder telling you what is right and wrong. Conscious means you’re awake or aware of something.

definitely
Major peeve of mine when the I in this word is replaced with an A. I don’t know why it’s so common–it’s not like we pronounce it with an A sound, even: defin-AT-ely? Um, no.

existence
Commonly misspelled with the middle E replaced by an A: existance. See above.

fiery
Since fire has the E at the end, it’s easy to think the adjective version would too. It’s easy to think wrong.

gauge
I first learned about gauges when I read a book about knitting around 11 or 12 years old. Since no one was saying the word out loud to me, I assumed it was pronounced sort of French: GAH-zh. When I realize it rhymes with cage, I felt silly. But at least it’s a commonly misspelled word I have down.

it’s/its
WITH an apostrophe, you’re making a contraction, like don’t (do not) or can’t (can not). The contraction here means it is. If you’re referring to possession, then you use the plain pronoun, its. Remember: you wouldn’t add an apostrophe to his, right? Same word form.

jewelry
We forget that jewelry comes from the word jewel, so we have to spell that word out first before we get to the suffix.

judgment
Don’t be tempted to slip in an E to complete the word judge. Same goes with acknowledgment.

kernel
I made this misspelling myself when I first got to know my favorite gourmet popcorn store, Colorado (and Utah) Kernels. Like many others do, I spelled it with an A: kernals, and they gently corrected me. I’ve never made the mistake since.

memento
NOT spelled with an O: momento. Nope. Think of it this way: a memento is something you remember an event by. It sparks a MEMory. MEMento.

mischievous
Sometimes I get this one right on my first try, other times, no. I used to get frustrated with it, because I kept wanting to add the extra syllable we often say the word with (mish-chee-vee-ous) even though it’s really a three-syllable word (MISH-che-vuhs).

privilege
I once spent about fifteen minutes coming up with ways to spell this that the spell checker could at least identify and take a stab at. Took me forever to get it down.

pronunciation
Another case of thinking of the root word and letting that impact the spelling. We pronounce things, but we do so with without the OU sound in this word.

there/their/they’re
HAD to end with this one, since it’s the title of my grammar book. (Hey, it was on their list!)

What are some of you favorite misspelled words?

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of eight novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

When Passive Voice is OKAY by Annette Lyon

Don’t use passive voice; use active voice.

Ever heard that writing rule?

It’s a good guideline, for sure, but like any writing rule, exceptions abound.

First, what is passive voice?

Passive voice shows up when something or someone is being acted upon rather than doing the acting. It’s usually a weak way to construct a sentence or a scene because your characters are like chess pieces being moved around and having stuff thrown at them rather than actually doing anything themselves.

Often passive voice can be changed with a little tweaking, and doing so almost always results in a stronger sentence.

Consider:

Tom was hit by a car.

This is passive because the car is the one actually doing the action. Tom is the recipient of the effect.

The car hit Tom.

That’s active, but it’s still a bit telly.

Since the first sentence (Tom was hit by a car) was rather non-specific (ie telly), let’s do better on both counts. Let’s show AND use active voice:

A red Jeep squealed around the corner, its headlights staring Tom in the face. He dove for the sidewalk, but too late; the grill smacked into his torso, and tires rolled over his legs. A pop and a crunch, and then silence, save for Tom’s heavy breathing and a sensation of shock eclipsing the pain in his broken legs.

Now the car (or, the Jeep, since we’re adding specificity) is acting. Tom’s still on the receiving end, but the action is much better.

Passive voice is one reason writers are cautioned to avoid WAS constructions. They aren’t all passive voice (contrary to what some writers teach or have been taught, haha—that was passive voice), but it’s a clue that you might be dealing with it.

So here’s a fun detail: sometimes you WANT passive voice.

1) Use passive voice when the common sentence construction demands it and changing the sentence to active would call attention to itself. Such as:

He got arrested.

Sure, that’s passive, but it’s also the way that term is generally used. Pointing out that police officers did the arresting is kinda silly, and it would detract.

(Note that here and in many cases, it’s GET/GOT that’s the key for noting passive voice, not WAS.)

2) When you’re deliberately trying to avoid pointing out the person/thing who acted.

Pay attention to commercials or company communications: they rarely accept responsibility for anything, and they do so by using passive voice:

“We regret that your washing machine was improperly installed” keeps it passive and the focus on the washer.

They’d never say, “We regret that our technician installed your washer improperly,” because then the spotlight is on their shortcomings and gives the customer ammunition for a refund.

You can do the same thing in your writing. Mysteries are rife with passive voice when we don’t know WHO done it: “The victim was stabbed five times.” Trying to avoid passive voice there would feel a bit acrobatic and awkward to the reader.

Another case to use passive voice: when you’re deliberately trying to hide the person who is acting.

“Mom, one of the car’s headlights got smashed,” a teen says, and then slinks to their room, hoping Mom assumes it was a hit-and-run in a parking lot or something, even though the teen is the one who busted the light by driving into a lamp post.

Or when a teacher walks in to see chaos and says, “What’s going on here?”and the class replies, “The same thing that happens every day.”

(Careful not to point out that THEY are the ones doing whatever they shouldn’t be.)

To sum up:

  • Passive voice is when the sentence shows what is happening to who/what but avoids using the subject of the action as the subject of the sentence.Most of the time, passive voice is weak and should be avoided.
  • WAS/GOT tend to signal passive voice.
  • But not all sentences with those words are passive voice.
  • Use passive voice when you (or a character) want to conceal who is doing the action.

Okay, so let’s try it: After Thanksgiving, I’m amazed at how much pie GOT EATEN.

Ahem. (See? With passive voice, I admit to nothing . . .)

 

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of eight novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

Dangling Participles by Annette Lyon

Dangling participles!

They’re loads of fun . . . really! They’re easy to giggle over . . . at least when you find the mistake in someone else’s work (or before yours gets in front of an editor).

So what is a dangling participle?
It’s a modifier, usually noun, pronoun, or phrase—basically any descriptor—that’s in the wrong place for what it’s supposed to be describing. Often that means it’s too far away from it, or at least that something else is in the way.

Sounds confusing, so let’s just ignore the definition for a minute and show some examples. They’re the best way to learn anyway, right?

Try these sentences on for size:

Joe went on the ride with my sister called The Raging Flame of Death.
Hmm. That’s not a sister I’d like to hang out with. Oh, wait! The ride has that name. In that case:

He went on the The Raging Flame of Death ride [or the ride called The Raging Flame of Death] with my sister.

Other funny examples:

Two computers were reported stolen by the high school principal.

(That’s one unethical principal . . .)

The anchor reported a coming lightning storm on the television.

(Get AWAY from that television!)

Please look through the contents of the package with your wife.

(Must be one huge package if she fits in it.)

James hadn’t meant to let it slip that he wasn’t married, at least to his boss.

(Wait. His boss is Mrs. James?)

Quiet and patient, her dress was simple, yet stylish.

(Let’s hope her dress wasn’t loud and impatient.)

At the age of five, her mother remarried.

(Um . . . doubt that’s legal in any state. And she certainly wasn’t a mother then.)

 

These little nasties are painfully easy to drop into your work without you even knowing it. They happen when you’ve used an action and then the subject that belongs to the action is put into the wrong place.

The result is most definitely a meaning you didn’t intend.

One of the most common forms is relatively easy to spot: look for sentences that open with an “ing” phrase:

Turning the corner on a bike, a huge dog startled him.

(Apparently that’s a dog with serious coordination skills.)

Driving through town, the grocery store appeared on the right.

(Freaky store. And just how big is its car?!)

And here’s one of my favorite dangling participles (which I found in a New York Times bestseller that shall remain nameless, even though it was just too funny):

Being my father, I thought he’d be more upset.

(Now THAT is one amazing genetic trick . . .)

You get the idea.

Dangling participles can sound scary and intimidating, but in reality, they’re easy to fix. Just make sure the action in your sentence is really attached to the person or thing doing it.

For the writers reading this, it’s something you don’t need to worry too much about in the drafting stage. It is, however, one of those things you should try to catch in the revision stage.

One great way is to read your draft aloud. The stresses and pauses will make you recognize when something doesn’t quite sound right. Pick some trusted readers to ferret out these kinds of bloopers as well.

Your future lack of embarrassment is most definitely worth the effort.

 

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of eight novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

The Much Abused Semi-Colon by Annette Lyon

;

 

Rampant semicolon abuse is so frequent that I just have to post about it in hopes that maybe one person will stop the mistreatment of the poor mark and give it some respect. Or at least keep it from being so regularly misused.

Let’s start by getting two things clear:
1) A semicolon is NOT a fancy way to show a pause.
2) A semicolon is NOT a colon and therefore is NOT used the same way.

In other words, the following examples are WRONG.

The fancy pause semicolon: Trixie climbed to the top of the high dive; terrified.

The semicolon-as-colon: At home, Jane began her second arduous job; keeping house and caring for her children’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.

Please don’t do those. Pretty, pretty please?

A semicolon is used correctly when the text on both sides of it can stand alone as complete sentences.

THIS version would be correct:
Trixie climbed to the top of the high dive; she was terrified.

See? Separate the sides:

Trixie climbed to the top of the high dive.
(Complete sentence? Yep.)

She was terrified.
(Yep. That can stand alone too.)

(The fact that you could find a way to show her terror instead of telling it is another post.)

Colons introduce a list or significant information. Usually, that information isn’t a full sentence (although there are exceptions).

Fixing the semicolon-as-colon is way easy. Just replace the semicolon with the colon that should have been there to begin with.

At home, Jane began her second arduous job: keeping house and caring for her children’s physical, emotional, and spiritual needs.

Here’s another issue to clarify: semicolons are not the punctuation equivalent of the dodo bird. They are used in contemporary writing, even fiction. Regularly.

Yes, even in fiction.

(Okay, I admit to overusing them at times, to the point of arguing with my editor over keeping some. So I’m a semicolon addict.)

I’ve heard people claim that semicolons belong only in non-fiction, that em dashes should be used instead, at least in fiction.

I disagree. Vehemently. (Me have a strong opinion? Shocker, I know.)

Here’s the thing: semicolons serve specific purposes, and no other punctuation mark can do exactly the same thing. Sure, sometimes an em dash can work, but an em dash gives a slightly different feel and longer pause length than a semicolon.

Now, I don’t advocate throwing in semicolons with abandon, even when used correctly. Too many call attention to themselves, and anything that draws a reader out should be avoided.

But there are some great lines that deserve a semicolon, like when you want a close connection between two sentences. A period can’t do it. Using a comma + conjunction is correct (Trixie climbed the high dive, and she was terrified), but again, that adds a different feel.

(A perfectly fine feel, if it’s what you’re going for, but not a semicolon feel.)

Sometimes the semicolon is the only way to get the rhythm, the pacing, and the tone you want.

This may sound odd to non-word nerds, but a writer who has a great grasp on punctuation is like a conductor leading a symphony. The writer leads the reader along with clear signs for pausing at the right places, speeding up here, slowing down there, emphasizing this part.

Learn to use the semicolon; you’ll thank me.

(Couldn’t resist throwing one in.)

Annette Lyon  is a Whitney Award winner, the recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, and the author of eight novels, a cookbook, and a grammar guide, plus over a hundred magazine articles. She’s a senior editor at Precision Editing Group and a cum laude graduate from BYU with a degree in English. When she’s not writing, editing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding the spots on the kitchen floor. Find her online at blog.annettelyon.com and on Twitter: @AnnetteLyon.

Need a little extra grammar help? Get Annette’s grammar book, There, Their, They’re: A No-Tears Guide to Grammar from the Word Nerd.

Semi-colons in Fiction

How do you feel about the use of semi-colons in fiction, and how and when do you think they should be used?

I like semi-colons. They work better in literary, historical or more serious and formal fiction than they do in, say, Middle Grade, YA or very trendy fiction.

Like all punctuation, they should be used when the situation calls for them, not just for show.

CLICK HERE for some great, easy-to-understand rules for using a semi-colon.

Grammar is a Non-Issue. NOT!

My grammar skills aren’t horrible but they aren’t great either. How much will this hurt me when submitting something to an LDS Publishing House? I had a teacher once say grammar is for your agent and editor…don’t worry about it. How true is that?

P.S. I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for the contest critiques. Any idea how long until we get them? I’m probably pestering/annoying you. Sorry.

That is so totally NOT true!

When you’re writing your story, don’t worry about the grammar. Get the meat of the story down. Focus on plot, characters, setting, pacing, sensory imagery, etc.

But before you submit, you MUST go back through and fix the grammar mistakes.

A million years ago, editors and agents were more willing to look at manuscripts that needed heavier clean-up. The world moved at a slower pace. There were fewer submissions so when they got a good story, editors and agents were willing to work with it.

That is no longer the case. With the advent of word processors, the relative ease of printing, the constant consumer demand for new and more books, the editor’s job has changed. Yes, they still do clean-up work, but they have to do it fast. The cleaner the manuscript is to begin with, the less time (money) it takes to edit, the more likely it will be accepted.

If you know your grammar needs help, find someone to help you clean it up before you submit.

(Contest critiques—bad timing on my part. I forgot I had to read Whitneys and that I’d committed to another project in March. Working on them now.)

Writing Tip Tuesday: Paragraph Length

This tip was prompted by a question:

At my last writers group meeting, I was told that my paragraphs were way too long. Can you give me an idea of appropriate paragraph length? Is is a certain number of sentences? How do I know when to make a new paragraph? Help!


First, let’s define “paragraph”.

Short answer: A paragraph is “a distinct portion of written or printed matter dealing with a particular idea.” (Dictionary.com)

Longer, more detailed answer: CLICK HERE.

A paragraph can be anywhere from one sentence (even one word) to a dozen sentences or more. In today’s world, shorter is better. (When editing, I frequently add paragraph breaks; rarely do I suggest combining paragraphs.) When a reader sees a page that is all one paragraph or has one long paragraph after another, they stop reading. It’s visually overwhelming. Breaking your text up into paragraphs makes it much easier to read.

So, when do you start a new paragraph?

  • When a new person speaks
  • When you start a new topic
  • When you move to a new time or location
  • When you need to give your reader a break or rest
  • When you want to create a dramatic effect