SmithWriting Blog

No, I’m not talking about the brackets we filled in last month during the NCAA basketball tournament. I’m referring to the much more useful (albeit less exciting) punctuation marks [ ].

Also known as “box brackets” or “square brackets,” these marks are primarily used to enclose editorial inserts in direct quotes.

For example:
“I thought that it [the party] was a huge success!”

Brackets containing the word “sic” (Latin for “thus”) indicate that a misspelling or misuse of language in a direct quote is in fact what was written (even though it is incorrect).

For example:
“My travels brought me to Egypt, Libia [sic], and Tunisia.”

When nested parentheses are needed, brackets are used with their rounded relatives.

For example:
(John Adams [1735-1826] and Samuel Adams were second cousins.)

Brackets are also used in math, chemistry, and computer programming.

Know of any other usage for this square pair? Please share.

Filed by rebecca at 6:26 pm under Grammar guide
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Unless you’ve been living in a cave for the past few months, you’re aware that there’s a recession going on. But did you know that this economic downturn has generated its own vocabulary?

Here’s a list of words to help you get through this fiscal fiasco:

Recessionista: A style maven on a budget.

Obamanomics: The president’s plan to fix our ailing economy.

Furlough: Unpaid—and often unwelcome—time off from work.

Furcation: A vacation taken while on furlough.

Vulture vacationer: A traveler who takes advantage of the low costs caused by the recession.

Zombie bank: A bank that cannot lend money but stays in business due to government support.

Nationalization: When the government steps in to run failed businesses.

Bailout: The money failed businesses get from taxpayers before they face nationalization.

Staycation: A vacation at home because you can’t afford to travel anywhere.

The latter two terms are so overused that they made the 2009 banished words list.

Have any of your own financial phrases to share? We’d love to hear them!

Filed by rebecca at 12:22 pm under For the love of words
4 Comments

The slash (/), or virgule, is a slanted character used to separate related items of information. It’s not very sexy or exciting, but, like every punctuation mark, it has its proper place in everyday grammar.

Uses of the slash:

To express “per”
The speed limit is 65 miles/hour.

In dates and fractions
My birthday is 1/3.
The recipe calls for 2 ½ cups of butter.

To indicate options
She took a biology class on a pass/fail basis.
If convicted, he’ll be sentenced to two years in jail and/or a $3,000 fine.
(I caution you to limit the use of “and/or”; it’s quite cumbersome and unnecessary in most cases.)

To denote the end of a line of poetry
“I am writing these poems / From inside a lion, / And it’s rather dark in here.”
- Shel Silverstein

In URLs
http://smithwriting.com/blog/

Note: The slash should never be confused with its mirror image, the backslash (\). Limit use of this backward character to strictly computing contexts.

Filed by rebecca at 8:00 pm under Grammar guide
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In honor of World Poetry Day (March 21), I’d like to share a poem I wrote when I was 9 years old:

Happy

Now I’m happy,
really happy,
I’m really having fun,
hopping, skipping,
jumping, running,
yelling to everyone!

“Happy” actually won an honorable mention award in a national poetry contest (not bad for a fourth-grader). Watch out, Walt Whitman …

Although I’ve gotten away from writing poetry, I still enjoy reading it very much. And I’ll be sure to take some time on March 21 to read some of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson, Shel Silverstein, and Billy Collins.

Here’s wishing you all a “Happy” World Poetry Day!

Filed by rebecca at 11:56 am under For the love of words
14 Comments

This March 15 is the 2,053rd anniversary of the assassination of Julius Caesar. It’s a day known as “the ides of March”—and a day filled with foreboding for many.

In the ancient Roman calendar, the “ides” was the 15th day of March, May, July, and October and the 13th day of the other eight months. The ides was originally marked by a full moon.

The word “ides” (circa 1330) originates from the French “ides” and the Latin “idus,” meaning the eighth day after nones. Huh? Well, “nones,” in reference to the same Roman calendar, was the ninth day before the ides of each month, or the 7th day of March, May, July, and October and the 5th day of other months. The first day of each month was the “calends.” Seems unnecessarily complicated to me, but, then again, I wasn’t around 2,000 years ago, marking time by the moon.

In modern times, we rarely use the terms “ides,” “nones,” and “calends.” However, due in no small part to William Shakespeare, “the ides of March” has become a well-known metaphor for impending doom.

In his play Julius Caesar, Shakespeare has a soothsayer utter the infamous line, “Beware the ides of March,” to Caesar. (I don’t know about you, but if someone who could predict the future told me to beware of a certain day, I sure as heck would lock my doors, call my bodyguards, and stay holed up inside all day. But not Caesar; he scoffed the warning.) On his way to the senate-house on March 15, foolish Caesar actually taunts the soothsayer, saying, “The ides of March are come.” To which the soothsayer sagely replies, “Ay, Caesar; but not gone.”

Well, as we all know, the soothsayer was right: Caesar didn’t live to see the end of March 15. Instead, a group of senators who claimed that he was trying to reinstate the monarchy stabbed him to death on that fateful day.

Now, whether you fear the ides of March or celebrate it—as a group of Italians do with a toga run through the streets of Rome—at least now you know a bit about its history and lore. So venture out at your own risk.

Filed by rebecca at 4:34 pm under For the love of words
6 Comments

Well, who can blame you, with all the thousands of regional expressions floating around out there?

I grew up in Rhode Island, where we drank water out of bubblers (water fountains) and devoured cabinets (milkshakes) as special treats. I thought everyone did the same, until I met my husband (a Midwesterner) and learned that every corner of the nation has its own quirky lexicon.

Now, thanks to the good folks at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, many of this country’s regional phrases are all together in one place: The Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE).

This collection of books documents the varieties of English found in each tiny pocket of the United States. In fact, DARE is based on interviews conducted in all 50 states and on a comprehensive collection of written materials from the colonial period to the present.

The first book, Volume I (letters A-C), was published 25 years ago. Subsequent volumes (up to the letters Sk) have come out since, and Volume V, containing the remainder of the alphabet, is scheduled for publication this year.

I can’t wait to get my hands on the whole collection. Because not only is DARE a great way to pass down old sayings that might otherwise die off, it’s a colorful testament to the rich culture and diversity of this country.

Here’s a sampling of entries:

railroad daisy (n) also railroad flower. North Dakota, Eastern Montana, Louisiana, Kentucky:
Black-eyed Susan. So named because the flower can grow in sunny, gravelly areas like those alongside railroad tracks.

Adam’s housecat (n) chiefly S. Atlantic and Gulf States:
An idiom, as in “I don’t know him from Adam’s housecat.”

garden house (n) chiefly Mid Atlantic:
An outhouse. So named because they were typically built in a garden of a country house.

scramble (n) also scramble dinner. Northern Illinois:
A potluck dinner.

discomgollifusticated (adj) also discumgalligumfricated. New England:
Discombobulated. “The jet lag and lack of sleep made him irritable and discomgollifusticated.”

larruping (adj) Texas, Oklahoma:
Delicious, excellent (esp. of food). “Now that’s one larrupin’ good pie.”

nebby (adj) also nebby-nosed. chiefly Pennsylvania:
Snoopy, inquisitive. “I heard the gossip from her nebby neighbor.”

mubble-squibble (n) North Carolina:
A noogie; the act of rubbing one’s knuckles on a person’s head so as to produce a mildly painful sensation.

Have any of your own regional expressions to share? We’d love to hear them!

Filed by rebecca at 8:27 pm under For the love of words
8 Comments

A palindrome is a word, phrase, or sentence that reads the same backward or forward.

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the term comes from the Greek palindromos, meaning “a recurrence” or, literally, “a running back” (palin “again, back” + dromos “a running”).

There are lots out there, but here is a small sampling:

• a man, a plan, a canal, Panama
• Eve
• eye
• Hannah
• kayak
• kinnikinnik (I have actually kayaked the Kinnikinnik River in Wisconsin!)
• level
• madam, I’m Adam
• never odd or even
• radar
• rise to vote, sir (I got this one from The Simpsons’ Comic Book Guy)
• rotor
• so many dynamos

… and the always useful

• yo, banana boy!

If you have any favorite palindromes, don’t nod; post them in the comments section.

Filed by rebecca at 9:39 pm under For the love of words
5 Comments

A common grammar mistake made by writing novices and professionals alike is the misuse of the words “effect” and “affect.” This is no surprise, seeing as how both words can be used as either a noun or a verb (who makes up these rules?!).

To help ease the confusion, I’ve put together a simple usage guide:

Rule of thumb is to use “effect” as a noun and “affect” as a verb.

effect (noun): result

Never underestimate the effect of your actions.
 

effect (verb): to cause

Our new leader hopes to effect change.
 

affect (verb): to influence

The weather affects my mood.
 

affect (noun): emotional response

This one is kind of tricky, which is why I caution you from using it. “Affect” as a noun is reserved primarily for psychological use, as in: The patient displayed an aloof affect.

Hopefully, our proper use of these words will have a ripple effect and spread good grammar all around!

Filed by rebecca at 5:33 pm under Grammar guide
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A few weeks ago, while compiling financial documents for my accountant, I sat down to prepare a 1099 tax form for my subcontractor. A simple task, right? Well, you can imagine my surprise when I learned that the form had to be typewritten on special paper from the IRS. Well, that’s all well and good, but who has a typewriter in this day and age? I sure don’t, so I had to have a tax professional prepare the form for me.

It all worked out fine, but it got me to thinking: Where have all the typewriters gone?

There was a time not too long ago when every office had at least one typewriter. B.C. (Before Computers), typewriters were used for writing memos, letters, and other important documents. An office just wasn’t an office without the melodic sounds of tapping keys and typewriter bells.

Then along came the personal computer and dot-matrix printer in the 1980s. And it was goodbye typewriters. But where did they all go?

Well, unfortunately, most went to the landfill. Can you imagine millions of perfectly good typewriters piled haphazardly in dumps all over the country? What a waste!

Luckily, some typewriters were salvaged and continue to be in existence. Some offices use them for typing labels and envelopes, and, of course, they are needed for completing certain forms. In fact, most U.S. birth and death certificates are filled out by typewriters.

I also know some writers who swear by their typewriters. They eschew computers and opt instead to compose their works using the more romantic, vintage typewriter. Can’t you just picture the struggling novelist bent over his typewriter, frustratingly ripping out page after page of copy and tossing the rolled-up paper balls into the wastepaper basket? (Wasteful, yet poetic.)

With their unique look, sound, feel, and smell, typewriters are iconic in the writing and business worlds. Although I won’t be replacing my PC with one anytime soon (how do you possibly write without the “backspace” key?), I sure hope typewriters will be around for many years to come.

Filed by rebecca at 9:11 pm under Copywriting
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Back in September, I posted some of my favorite bawdy terms from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue: A Dictionary of Buckish Slang, University Wit, and Pickpocket Eloquence (Digest Books, Inc.), a collection of late 18th- and early 19th-century British slang and colloquialisms.

Since we all got such a kick out of the first batch, I’ve gone ahead and pulled a few more crude yet comical entries:

Beetle-headed: Dull, stupid.

Beggar maker: A publican or ale-house keeper.

Clack: A tongue; chiefly applied to women; a simile drawn from the clack of a water-mill.

Gutfoundered: Exceeding hungry.

Knowledge box: The head.

Low tide: When there is no money in a man’s pocket.

Morning drop: The gallows.

One of my cousins: A woman of the town; a harlot.

Pompkin: A man or woman of Boston in America; from the number of pompkins raised and eaten by the people of that country.

Resurrection men: Persons employed by the students in anatomy to steal dead bodies out of church-yards.

Word pecker: A punster; one who plays upon words.

A large volume of words in the dictionary are denigrative to women, signifying the inferior role of women in that culture (and the prevalence of prostitution). For example, the term “noozed” means both “married” and “hanged”—not the most positive view of marriage.

Likewise, the book contains dozens of terms about drinking and gluttony. “Barrel fever” is when one kills oneself by drinking, and “casting up one’s accounts” means vomiting. Clearly, debauchery was rampant in this society.

Read my original scoundrels’ dictionary post.

Filed by rebecca at 12:58 pm under For the love of words
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