The contraction faction
Mar. 20th, 2004 09:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynSorry -- day got a way from me yesterday -- sunshine in Seattle! the garden beckoned.
Back when I first started this, I talked about apostrophes, particularly the apostrophe s possessive misunderstanding. But there are other uses for the apostrophe, especially in contractions.
Most of us actually know how to use contractions (I say most, because of course, probably all of us have come across the fan typists who either have never heard of a contraction, or where to put the apostrophe), so there’s (there is) probably no misunderstanding about them, right? Well, moooostly. But not totally. With contractions, it usually isn’t (is not) the actual placement of the apostrophe that’s the problem, it’s the words themselves, and how sometimes amateur writers avoid using them altogether.
The single greatest sign to me that the writer whose work I’m (I am) looking at is not an experienced or knowledgeable writer is lack of contractions. Most of the documentation I’d (I would) get from my client at work would never show contractions where they should be, and much of the fan writing I see from newbies uses an oddly formal and inappropriate style, especially in dialog -- because people talk in contractions.
As an example, when I was working on the employee newsletter for a company years ago, our president decided he wanted to start having a President’s Message each month. He wanted to write it and just have me edit it, rather than ghostwrite, as those usually are. When I touched up the copy, the communications staff had a meeting where we tried to figure out what was wrong with the piece -- it sounded stiff, unfriendly, odd. Finally we figured out that there were no contractions. It came across as distant and so formal it wouldn’t (would not) connect with employees.
And this sort of thing happens a lot in fanfic. I can’t count how many times I see characters speaking in these weird, formal styles they never would use, because the writer doesn’t (does not) really understand how to use contractions, and when. See how different these pairs of sentences feel if you read them out loud:
“It is times like these, mate, when I do not know why I should not just kill you,” Spike said to Xander.
“It’s times like these, mate, when I don’t know why I shouldn't just kill you,” Spike said to Xander.
“We cannot find the murder weapon. I am mystified,” Jim said.
“We can’t find the murder weapon. I’m mystified,” Jim said.
You can see how strangely stiff those first sentences are, yet it’s something I see all the time. I’m honestly not sure if people just don’t hear the words as they appear, or if they truly believe that writing should use formal, stiff constructions to be appropriate. I do know that some people think contractions are too informal, especially in technical documentation, but I disagree -- people are so used to hearing them that they’re (they are) a part of the aural landscape, as well as our visual landscape when we read. By all means, keep contractions out for times when you need the character to be speaking more formally (Giles is an excellent example, in that he often spoke more formally than others around him, especially when making points), but consider using them the rest of the time. Your prose will come across more naturally, and your dialog will definitely sound more like a real person talking.
Most of us know the common contractions -- don’t (do not), can’t (cannot), won’t (will not). But here’s (here is) a list of some that cause a few problems for folks:
let’s (for let us; using lets without an apostrophe means allows)
it’s (means it is; if you’re talking about something possessing something else, then you want its. This one will get you into lots of trouble with nitpickers, so it’s a helpful one to memorize -- if you get confused, just ask yourself if the word you want means it is when spelled out.)
you’re (means you are; the other version, your, is what you use when describing something owned by another person. “You’re too stupid to know your own name.”)
they’re (stands for they are. Do not confuse this with their, the possessive form of they, or there, meaning that place yonder. This is *the* most hated error made by people who don’t know the mechanics of writing, so spend a little time learning this contraction, and you’ll be loved and adored by millions.)
I’d (this is a toughie because it can mean either I had or I would, so it’s often a good idea to just spell it out all the way, if you need to be clear. Really avoid using I’d’ve for I would have.)
You get the idea -- take a look at some formally published work, and you’ll (you will) see how these things look on the page. I keep trying to recommend reading good literature to see how good writing is handled on a page; with contractions, I think that’s (that is) one of the best exercises you can do.
And a word about strange, longer contractions such as where’ve and would’ve (where have and would have) and so on: unless you’re really sure you know what you’re doing, avoid these if you can. Even though in speech we say would’ve, there seems to be a popular and irritating conviction that it’s written out as would of (or where’ve). Now, think about it: what the hell would would of mean? These two words in conjunction with each other are nonsense, yet so many people think it’s would of because would’ve kind of vaguely sounds like that, that it could drive an editor to drink. It has, in fact, driven me to drink. Even if the character you’re writing would probably think it’s would of, just avoid it. You’ll only perpetuate a pretty annoying problem, and it doesn’t really add anything to the dialog as written, because we tend to fill in speech patterns anyway, so if we know a character has an unsophisticated style, we kind of place that on the dialog as we read.
This construction drove me batshit throughout Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses, and I’ve seen a few really good fan writers use would of and where of as a dialog device to assist characterization, but I would really discourage people from using it. Just because that’s what folks think it is, doesn’t mean we have to play into that. I always preach tolerance because language is changing all the time, but this is one place I’m not tolerant. Stick with where have and would have, and you’ll always be good -- no one can really come back at you and accuse you of not knowing how to write, even if the reason you used the contractions (or god forbid, would of) was for characterization. (I have a very long piece about writing in dialect that will come up later once I revise it for this audience, but that’s my anti-dialect statement for now.)
Back when I first started this, I talked about apostrophes, particularly the apostrophe s possessive misunderstanding. But there are other uses for the apostrophe, especially in contractions.
Most of us actually know how to use contractions (I say most, because of course, probably all of us have come across the fan typists who either have never heard of a contraction, or where to put the apostrophe), so there’s (there is) probably no misunderstanding about them, right? Well, moooostly. But not totally. With contractions, it usually isn’t (is not) the actual placement of the apostrophe that’s the problem, it’s the words themselves, and how sometimes amateur writers avoid using them altogether.
The single greatest sign to me that the writer whose work I’m (I am) looking at is not an experienced or knowledgeable writer is lack of contractions. Most of the documentation I’d (I would) get from my client at work would never show contractions where they should be, and much of the fan writing I see from newbies uses an oddly formal and inappropriate style, especially in dialog -- because people talk in contractions.
As an example, when I was working on the employee newsletter for a company years ago, our president decided he wanted to start having a President’s Message each month. He wanted to write it and just have me edit it, rather than ghostwrite, as those usually are. When I touched up the copy, the communications staff had a meeting where we tried to figure out what was wrong with the piece -- it sounded stiff, unfriendly, odd. Finally we figured out that there were no contractions. It came across as distant and so formal it wouldn’t (would not) connect with employees.
And this sort of thing happens a lot in fanfic. I can’t count how many times I see characters speaking in these weird, formal styles they never would use, because the writer doesn’t (does not) really understand how to use contractions, and when. See how different these pairs of sentences feel if you read them out loud:
“It is times like these, mate, when I do not know why I should not just kill you,” Spike said to Xander.
“It’s times like these, mate, when I don’t know why I shouldn't just kill you,” Spike said to Xander.
“We cannot find the murder weapon. I am mystified,” Jim said.
“We can’t find the murder weapon. I’m mystified,” Jim said.
You can see how strangely stiff those first sentences are, yet it’s something I see all the time. I’m honestly not sure if people just don’t hear the words as they appear, or if they truly believe that writing should use formal, stiff constructions to be appropriate. I do know that some people think contractions are too informal, especially in technical documentation, but I disagree -- people are so used to hearing them that they’re (they are) a part of the aural landscape, as well as our visual landscape when we read. By all means, keep contractions out for times when you need the character to be speaking more formally (Giles is an excellent example, in that he often spoke more formally than others around him, especially when making points), but consider using them the rest of the time. Your prose will come across more naturally, and your dialog will definitely sound more like a real person talking.
Most of us know the common contractions -- don’t (do not), can’t (cannot), won’t (will not). But here’s (here is) a list of some that cause a few problems for folks:
let’s (for let us; using lets without an apostrophe means allows)
it’s (means it is; if you’re talking about something possessing something else, then you want its. This one will get you into lots of trouble with nitpickers, so it’s a helpful one to memorize -- if you get confused, just ask yourself if the word you want means it is when spelled out.)
you’re (means you are; the other version, your, is what you use when describing something owned by another person. “You’re too stupid to know your own name.”)
they’re (stands for they are. Do not confuse this with their, the possessive form of they, or there, meaning that place yonder. This is *the* most hated error made by people who don’t know the mechanics of writing, so spend a little time learning this contraction, and you’ll be loved and adored by millions.)
I’d (this is a toughie because it can mean either I had or I would, so it’s often a good idea to just spell it out all the way, if you need to be clear. Really avoid using I’d’ve for I would have.)
You get the idea -- take a look at some formally published work, and you’ll (you will) see how these things look on the page. I keep trying to recommend reading good literature to see how good writing is handled on a page; with contractions, I think that’s (that is) one of the best exercises you can do.
And a word about strange, longer contractions such as where’ve and would’ve (where have and would have) and so on: unless you’re really sure you know what you’re doing, avoid these if you can. Even though in speech we say would’ve, there seems to be a popular and irritating conviction that it’s written out as would of (or where’ve). Now, think about it: what the hell would would of mean? These two words in conjunction with each other are nonsense, yet so many people think it’s would of because would’ve kind of vaguely sounds like that, that it could drive an editor to drink. It has, in fact, driven me to drink. Even if the character you’re writing would probably think it’s would of, just avoid it. You’ll only perpetuate a pretty annoying problem, and it doesn’t really add anything to the dialog as written, because we tend to fill in speech patterns anyway, so if we know a character has an unsophisticated style, we kind of place that on the dialog as we read.
This construction drove me batshit throughout Cormac McCarthy’s All the Pretty Horses, and I’ve seen a few really good fan writers use would of and where of as a dialog device to assist characterization, but I would really discourage people from using it. Just because that’s what folks think it is, doesn’t mean we have to play into that. I always preach tolerance because language is changing all the time, but this is one place I’m not tolerant. Stick with where have and would have, and you’ll always be good -- no one can really come back at you and accuse you of not knowing how to write, even if the reason you used the contractions (or god forbid, would of) was for characterization. (I have a very long piece about writing in dialect that will come up later once I revise it for this audience, but that’s my anti-dialect statement for now.)
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no subject
Date: 2004-03-21 10:22 am (UTC)