Punctuation
Getting the Ellipsis Right
How to Write an Ellipsis:
In addition to the many ellipsis errors we explored in the previous article, there is also some confusion regarding how to write an ellipsis, since it is made up of three periods. It’s simple: There should be spaces on each side of each period, including the beginning and the end.
With that in mind, think of an ellipsis as being written this way:
space-dot-space-dot-space-dot-space
Notice the spacing in the sentence we examined earlier:
I would have . . . let me see . . . well, about two dollars. (Correct spacing)
Do you see the space after the verb, have, and the space before the word, let? Those are the beginning and ending spaces. Notice also the space between each period. That is how to write an ellipsis.
Here is how many people botch the unfortunate ellipsis:
I would have…let me see…well, about two dollars. (No spaces: incorrect spacing)
The (So-Called) Four-Dot Ellipsis
Some people abuse the poor ellipsis in yet another way: They write extremely long series of dots to show a longer pause. This is unnecessary. Others, unsure how to write the ellipsis, often write four or even five dots, thinking that it represents a normal ellipsis. And, most often, such writers are unaware of the spacing. (Perhaps if they would insert the spaces, their ellipsis would indeed be longer, and they would not feel the need to . . . well, to compensate . . . for a lack of length.) Here is an example:
I would have……let me see……about ten dollars if I had a penny for every time I’ve seen a super-long (and super-wrong) ellipsis written. (Incorrect: too many periods)
Now, there is a case where you may see what appears to be a four-dot ellipsis. In fact, I’ve had several readers try to correct my so-called four-dot ellipsis: “Chris, I know you talk a lot about punctuation, but shouldn’t an ellipsis have only three dots?”
Do you remember the end of the article on the use of the terms, everyday and every day? As promised at the end of that article, I will explain that four-dot ellipsis I used there. Just in case you didn’t catch that article (or in case–heaven forbid–you’ve forgotten the details), here is the passage in question. Notice how the last sentence ends in what appears to be a four-dot ellipsis:
Rest easy, dear reader. You’ve seen the ellipsis, I’m certain. The issue is that few people call it by its real name. Instead, they call it “three dots” or—worse yet—“dot-dot-dot.” After misnaming the poor thing, people further insult this fine piece of punctuation by overusing it, when a dash, a colon, or a comma is the appropriate punctuation technique. Still, the ellipsis has its place. . . .
What is going on here? Why does this ellipsis have four dots?
Actually, the ellipsis does not have four dots. What you see there is a normal, perfectly healthy three-dot ellipsis, accompanied by a period to show end punctuation. Notice that the final sentence is indeed a complete statement. The ellipsis shows that there is more to come after that statement. There is an intentional omission, and indeed a hesitation, there at the end of the sentence. It is there to leave the reader hanging. It says, “I will speak more on this point later. Stay tuned.” Now, if that final part did not come to a full stop or form a full sentence, I would have ended only with an ellipsis—with no period added.
Notice as well that the space before the ellipsis appears to be missing. While many grammar gods explain the ellipsis-period combination as an ellipsis followed by a period, I prefer to think of it as a period followed by an ellipsis. That accounts for the lack of spacing before the ellipsis (since sentence-ending periods do not have spaces between them and the last word).
What do I mean, you ask? Here is the conventional view of the ellipsis-period ending, with color coding showing the separation of punctuation (period: red, ellipsis: green):
. . . . (an ellipsis, followed by a period. Notice that the spacing is completely wrong.)
Here is how I think of it:
. . . . (a period, followed by an ellipsis. The spacing makes sense now.)
So, to return to our original example, here is the sentence without that cliffhanger-effect ellipsis. Notice where the period is:
Still, the ellipsis has its place.
Now, if we add an ellipsis, we have this:
Still, the ellipsis has its place. . . .
Ah-ha! Now the spacing makes sense.
And, this period-then-ellipsis perspective makes sense in terms of the order in which I am expressing my content. My cliffhanger ellipsis—my end hesitation—occurs after I have stated the full sentence. I show that cliffhanger effect by inserting the ellipsis after the period. There is a sentence, then a period, then a hesitation.
In speaking, we might show this end-sentence cliffhanger by the tone in which we end a statement, accompanied by a lingering, ironic, or even stern look that we leave with our listeners. When I conclude a class session, I will often look two or three students in the eye after I make my last statement. That look says, “I want you to remember that idea—not just for the final exam, but for the rest of your life.” (All good teachers know that look, and they use it regularly.) In writing, that look is best represented by the ellipsis. That is the look I give my readers after the cliffhanger sentence above. It says, “Hold this thought until the next article.”
Using the Ellipsis with Other Punctuation
What if we want to use some other punctuation adjacent to an ellipsis? What about the comma, or the question mark? Would these come before or after the ellipsis?
The answer: It depends.
Specifically, it depends on where the hesitation or omission occurs. If the hesitation is before the comma, then you should write the ellipsis before the comma, like this:
The policeman continued the normal spiel: “You have the right to remain silent, yada, yada, yada . . . ,” and with that, poor Greg knew he’d be spending the night in the local jail.
Now, why might I do the opposite?—that is, why would I place a comma before an ellipsis? Consider the following example, where a comma follows an item in a series, just before the ellipsis. I want to leave that last comma to show that another item follows the last item I give, but for purposes of efficiency, I am not sharing the entire list:
“There are many ways to create pathos in writing,” I explained. “For example, sadness, pity, anger, warmth, . . . are all great ways to influence your readers. Pull on their heartstrings, and you can slip ideas into their heads.”
Now, the following sentence is a very different one. Here, there is no omission from items in the list. The ellipsis shows a thoughtful hesitation, and the list ends with the item, warmth:
“There are many ways to create pathos in writing,” I explained. “For example, sadness, pity, anger, warmth . . . are all great ways to influence your readers. Pull on their heartstrings, and you can slip ideas into their heads.”
So, that comma makes a big difference. Its placement (or lack thereof) before the ellipsis is critical to the message that sentence conveys.
Well, that’s about all I can say about ellip—Wait! Come to think of it, there is one more thing I should mention. . . .
Ellipsis and Ellipses
Ellipsis is the singular and ellipses is the plural. (Notice the vowel, e, in place of the i vowel.) And, each set of three dots counts as one ellipsis.
Check it out:
Chris hounds . . . I mean, challenges his students about their use of the ellipsis. (This sentence has one ellipsis.)
Wow, Chris, you are . . . for lack of a better word . . . a real nitpicker when it comes to people getting the ellipsis right. (This sentence has two ellipses.)
That’s about it for the ellipsis. Next up are brackets—those underused cousins of parentheses. Stay tuned. . . .
Christopher Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, NY. As a community-college specialist, Mr. Altman is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language.
Punctuation Toolbox: The Ellipsis (a.k.a. “Dot, Dot, Dot”)
The Poor Ellipsis: Overworked and Misnamed
The ellipsis is one of the most misused punctuation tools. To make matters worse, it is also the most frequently misnamed punctuation symbol. Imagine for a moment that you are the poor ellipsis. First, people force you to do a bunch of jobs that don’t even remotely fit your job description, then they proceed to call you by the wrong name, or they just forget your name altogether.
“Thanks for cleaning out that clogged sewer line; it must have been hard, since you were wearing that tie. Anyway, I really appreciate it, and I look forward to you doing it again next month. Hey–what’s your name again? I can never remember it. How about this: I’ll just call you Sewer Guy in a Tie, since that’s what you look like.”
The poor ellipsis: It must endure this treatment every day. When I speak to friends or students about the ellipsis, I am met with a confused look. I make sure to clarify, and by now I’ve memorized the line:
“Oh, an ellipsis is the three dots or periods you see when someone shows a hesitation in writing. You know: the dot-dot-dot symbol.”
“Oh yeah—I see! I’ve just always called it three dots. Is that the name? Eclipsis? . . .”
“No, it’s the ellipsis. There’s no k sound.”
If only I had a nickel for every time I had this conversation. I would have . . . let me see . . . well, about two dollars. Still, that’s a good many nickels!
So, to begin with, let’s get the name right. It’s not eclipse. (And, please, dear reader, no “Jacob or Edward” jokes.) It’s not three periods. And it’s certainly not dot-dot-dot. It’s the ellipsis. Spread the word.
What the Ellipsis Does (Two Functions)
More important than knowing the name is knowing how to use the ellipsis. Many novice writers overuse this poor punctuation tool, when they should use dashes, commas, parentheses, and even periods. They use it to show a sudden shift in thought (but that should be a dash). They use it to show a short pause (when they should use a comma). They even use it to show the completion of a statement–the very opposite of what an ellipsis represents! (And, for those who don’t know, we show the completion of a statement with the simplest punctuation symbol of them all: the period.)
So, what exactly does the ellipsis do? Essentially, the ellipsis serves two functions:
Ellipsis Function 1: The ellipsis shows a substantial pause of hesitation, one that allows a writer to mimic a hesitation in speech. This hesitation can show uncertainty, irony, humor, and other effects.
A good example is the sentence I wrote a bit earlier:
If only I had a nickel for every time I had this conversation. I would have . . . let me see . . . well, about two dollars. Still, that’s a good many nickels!
The first ellipsis shows that I am rethinking my calculation. The second ellipsis shows that I am hesitating because I do not want to say that the total is two dollars, since that is not a very impressive sum of money. Commas, while they do show pauses, would not show enough of a hesitation to express my uncertainty. Dashes—while they do show spontaneous shifts in thought—would be too sudden and assertive. I need a soft lingering, a moment to beat around the bush. That’s the ellipsis!
Ellipsis Function 2: The ellipsis shows an omission of words, usually within a quotation. It says, “There is more here in the original words I am quoting, but I am leaving those words out to save space, or to cut to the chase on my point. If you want to see all the words used, please feel free to look at the original source (which, of course, I’ve documented for you, since I want you to check out the good stuff I’ve been reading).”
You can also use an ellipsis to show the omission of items from a very long list, when you do not need to name all of the items in the list to get your point across. Just be careful not to manipulate your omissions so as to change the meaning of the original quote. While efficiency and concision are important, stay true to the original writer’s message.
Logically enough, I call this function an ellipsis of omission. It is not a stylistic use of the ellipsis, but one that writers use to stay true to their original texts while saving time and space. Here’s an example of an ellipsis of omission:
First, here is the full text from the quote:
MLK, in his momentous “I Have a Dream” speech, proclaimed, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
And here is how a writer might omit elements to save space or to get to the point:
MLK, in his momentous “I Have a Dream” speech, proclaimed, “I have a dream that my four little children . . . will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
See how that works?
Now, what happens if the original quote already has an ellipsis in it? What if the original writing uses, say, a stylistic ellipsis to show a hesitation? How do I show that the ellipsis I add is mine, and not the original writer’s? This causes quite a problem, but the punctuation gods (in their infinite wisdom) solved it easily: I can place brackets around an ellipsis to show that the ellipsis shows an omission and is not part of the original writing. This bracket technique is especially useful when a passage has an ellipsis of hesitation, and the writer who is quoting has a second ellipsis to show an omission.
I should mention here the Bracket Rule of Thumb: Whenever you quote another text and you put something in brackets (whether an ellipsis, a comma, a word, a sentence, or even a single letter), it says, “Hey, this stuff in the brackets is mine–not the original writer’s.” This is the brackets’ function with the ellipsis as well: the brackets show that the ellipsis is that of the person doing the quoting, and not of the original writer. (If you want to learn other ways to use brackets, stay tuned: Brackets are the next punctuation technique we will examine.)
With the Bracket Rule of Thumb in mind, I tend to avoid the bracketed ellipsis in citing popularly known quotes (like MLK’s quote cited above, or the “to boldly go” Star Trek opening), since most readers will recognize missing parts as they are familiar with the quote. Still, if you are a better-safe-than-sorry writer, feel free to use the bracketed ellipsis to show all of your omissions.
Here is an example of a bracketed ellipsis. The following quoted passage comes from the introduction to Richard Lederer and John Shore’s entertaining punctuation handbook, Comma Sense. (I recommend this book if you want to take your punctuation knowledge to the next level, while enjoying a great read.)
Notice that the original ellipsis—the one Lederer and Shore insert to show a stylistic hesitation—is not bracketed, and that my ellipses of omission are bracketed:
Language experts agree that one of the primary reasons people so often associate commas with comas is that computers have somehow driven a wedge between the “Think/Take Care/Don’t Embarrass Your Mother” part of everyone’s brain and the “Freakin’ GO For It, dude!!” part. [. . .] Young people today [. . .] don’t read or write essays. They don’t write letters, or stories, or . . . travelogues. They don’t even write words. They text-message. They text-message a lot. And to say that messages delivered via cell-phone “text” tend to lack punctuation is like saying that yaks tend to be hairy, or that professional basketball players tend to be tall.
Because of the brackets, the reader knows which ellipses are mine, and which belong to Lederer and Shore. (Nifty, huh?)
Next Up: Getting the Ellipsis Right
Unlike most punctuation symbols, the ellipsis is made up of multiple symbols (that is, three periods). This leads to a great deal of confusion regarding how exactly the ellipsis is to be written. Is it always written with three dots, or can there be four–or five? Are the dots written together, or should they have spaces between them? And, how do we deal with an ellipsis that occurs at the end of a sentence–or, worse yet, one that occurs directly beside a comma? Should we write the ellipsis before the comma, or after it?
Are these questions keeping you awake at night? (I hope not.) Well, if they are, stay tuned for the next article! . . .
(And, yes, the way I ended that sentence answers some of those questions, so look carefully and sleep soundly, dear reader.)
Sources Cited
King, Martin Luther. “I Have a Dream.” Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C. 28 Aug. 1963. American Rhetoric: Top 100 Speeches. 10 July. 2010 <http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm>
Lederer, Richard and John Shore. Comma Sense: A Fun-damental Guide to Punctuation. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2005.
Christopher Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, NY. As a community-college specialist, Mr. Altman is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language.
Hyphen Related Question: Is it “every day” or “everyday”?
Every day and everyday: Whether in advanced, academic writing, or in the casual, everyday e-mail, I have seen many a writer confuse these two terms. Although this writing issue does not involve hyphens, it is worth mentioning in this discussion of hyphens, since it follows the same rules that hyphenate adjectives follow.
In terms of joining words, there are three forms:
- Open: A space is between the two words. They are not joined.
- Hyphenated: A hyphen joins the two words. (See the two previous articles for more on the hyphenated form.)
- Closed: The two words run seamlessly together as one word with no hyphen or space between.
If I am writing the word, everyday, as a single adjective, I should write it together, with no space or hyphen. (In the list above, that is category 3—closed.)
Here is an example:
I hope to help everyday people improve their writing.
In the example above, everyday is a single adjective for the noun, people. Here it is, labeled, with the compound adjective underlined and the noun it modifies in italics:
I hope to help everyday people improve their writing.
However, if every is an adjective for the noun, day, then do not write them together. They are separate parts of speech, so write them separately:
Bob worked every day this month. (Every is an adjective for day.)
Here it is, labeled (again with the adjective underlined and its noun in italics):
Bob worked every day this month.
The decision to hyphenate works the same way. Consider the terms low-income and low income:
Although he worked very hard, Bob earned a relatively low income. (Low is an adjective for the noun, income.)
Vs.
Low-income Americans like Bob should receive decent benefits. (Low-income is a single adjective for the noun, Americans.)
Next Up: The Ellipsis
Well, that’s it for hyphens. Next up is the ellipsis.
I can hear the complaints now:
“What on earth is an ellipsis? A new hybrid car? An event involving the sun and moon lining up? You English teachers and your jargon!”
Rest easy, dear reader. You’ve seen the ellipsis, I’m certain. The issue is that few people call it by its real name. Instead, they call it “three dots” or—worse yet—“dot-dot-dot.” After misnaming the poor thing, people further insult this fine piece of punctuation by overusing it, when a dash, a colon, or a comma is the appropriate punctuation technique. Still, the ellipsis has its place. . . .
And, yes, I used four dots there—not three. (Look again.)
Want to know why? Stay tuned.
Christopher Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, NY. As a community-college specialist, Mr. Altman is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language.
Hyphens: Odds and Ends
In the previous article—“Advanced Punctuation: The Hyphen”—we looked at the rule of thumb for the hyphen:
Use hyphens to show that a multiple-word adjective functions as a single unit.
That rule covers ninety percent of hyphen uses. The other ten percent seems confusing, because it involves a wide variety of rules and no-no’s. I do not want to bog you down in rules, dear reader. With that avoidance in mind, I will not list all of the rules and odd uses of hyphens here. However, I should touch on a few of the most frequent points of confusion.
If you are interested in learning more about the nitpicky rules of hyphens, I recommend C. Edward Good’s A Grammar Book for You and I (Oops, me!): All the Grammar You Need to Succeed in Life. Although there are many good books that explain the general use of hyphens, no book I have encountered goes into the detail that Good’s book covers. Check it out.
With that said, here are a few further points on hyphen use. . . .
Use Your Own Judgment: Hyphenate to Avoid Confusion
Although there may be no rule for hyphenating a given term, writers sometimes choose to hyphenate to avoid ambiguity. In fact, writers must sometimes do this even if it goes against the rules of hyphenating. Here is an example (taken from Good’s book) of such a situation:
The article was thought provoking.
Is the writer saying . . .
People thought that the article was provoking (which means they probably didn’t like it)?
Or,
The article provoked thought in people (which means it was received well)?
Well, the sentence above states that people found the article provoking—that is, the article tended to anger readers. To express the second message—the idea that the article made people think—the writer would need to use a hyphen to connect thought and provoking:
The article was thought-provoking.
See how that works? Now the message is clear. Although we would not normally hyphenate a noun and an –ing verb to create an adjective, we would need to do so in the sentence above. This example breaks the hyphenation rules to follow a higher rule: Always make the message clear for your reader.
Do not confuse the hyphen with the dash—its longer cousin.
The dash (which I used in the title to this section) is twice as long as the hyphen. In fact, in most word-processing programs, the dash is formed by typing two hyphens in a row. In the old days, before Microsoft Word and OpenOffice (when early humans still used typewriters), people simply typed two hyphens to represent the dash. The two hyphens would have a small space between them and would not appear as a single long line, like the dashes you see in this writing. (To my students’ delight, this double-hyphen dash is what I call an old-school dash.) Today, word-processing applications have nifty auto-format features that recognize two adjacent hyphens and run them together to form an uninterrupted dash, which looks like this: —
The point of this spiel on hyphens and dashes? Simple: Many people see hyphens and call them dashes. The first step to understanding the difference between these two distinct forms of punctuation is to identify them correctly. The difference, after all, is clear:
- (hyphen)
— (dash)
What are dashes? Think of a dash as replacing a comma or colon to show a spontaneous change or interruption in a sentence. Its functions are completely different from those of the hyphen. Their only similarity is that they are both horizontal lines that occur between words.
Do not use hyphens between –ly adverbs and adjectives.
This is not the same as a multi-word adjective. In addition to modifying verbs, adverbs can modify adjectives. This is different from a multi-word adjective. If you are confused as to what an –ly adverb is, it is a word that combines an adjective and an –ly suffix. This forms an adverb, which most often modifies verbs. In the same way that the adjective tells us what kind of noun it is, an adverb tells us how the verb is done. Remember, though, that adverbs can also modify adjectives. Whether the –ly adverb modifies a verb or an adjective, remember that it should never be hyphenated with the verb or adjective that follows it. Confusing? Here are some examples:
I hope to write a widely acclaimed book. (Not: widely-acclaimed book)
The barely new car broke down in a busy intersection. (Not: barely-new)
And, if all this talk of adjectives and adverbs has you confused, just remember:
If a word describing how some action is done ends in –ly, do not hyphenate it with the word that follows.
Got it?
Use hyphens to avoid ambiguity in words that would otherwise be spelled the same
Here are some examples of words that may need hyphens to clear up ambiguity:
re-create (to remake or simulate)
vs.
recreate (to have fun)
Or, how about this one:
un-ionize (a chemistry term, the opposite of ionize)
vs.
unionize (to form a union)
Use Hyphens to Form Some Compound Nouns.
In the previous article, we looked at compound adjectives: adjectives formed by multiple words. Hyphens also join some compound nouns: nouns that are formed by more than one word. Some is the key word.
Here are some examples of hyphenated nouns, some of which I have drawn from C. Edward Good’s chapter on hyphens:
Mother-in-law
President-elect
Great-grandfather
One-half
Self-control
Notice that these hyphenated nouns follow the same general rule as multi-word hyphenated adjectives: the hyphens show that the joined words form a single unit (whether a noun or an adjective), and that the resulting hyphenated term is to be treated as one word.
Hyphen Finer Points
Here are some even finer points on hyphen use:
1. Use hyphens to express a range of numbers, essentially replacing the word, through.
For tomorrow’s class, I have asked my students to read pages 12-35.
2. Hyphens and Fractions:
Hyphenate fractions that are spelled out and used as adjectives, but do not hyphenate the whole number, if there is one. It should be isolated from the fraction part:
I ran two and one-half miles yesterday. I am not feeling well today.
(If this rule seems confusing, just remember that it reflects the numerical form: By being written to the left of the fraction, the whole number is separated from the fraction: 2½. The lack of hyphenation shows this separation in word form.)
3. Hyphenate Terms Involving Self + Some Other Word
Sheryl is an intelligent but self-conscious student. I wish she would answer more questions.
However . . .
If any prefix is added to self, the word is simply written all together. (We call this a closed compound word.) Look at the following examples:
selfish behavior (added –ish suffix to self, so close instead of hyphenating)
unselfish behavior (added un- prefix and –ish suffix to self, so no hyphenating)
Or, to look at our previous hyphenated example:
self-conscious student (hyphenated)
vs.
unselfconscious student (prefix –un, so closed)
The Final Hyphen Rule: When It Comes to Hyphens, Dictionaries Are Our Friends
There are many more odds-and-ends rules for hyphens. However, I write to express the core function of the hyphen: to join words for purposes of avoiding ambiguity. If you understand that rule, you’re golden.
Still, there are often no hard-and-fast rules for why one term might be hyphenated, while another is not. Knowing whether to hyphenate such terms is a simple matter of consensus. So, how do we know what the grammar gods have to say about hyphenating a given term?
Here is a nice trick, for any hyphen rules I have not addressed here: If you are unsure whether a term should be hyphenated, consult a dictionary. Terms that are not hyphenated will have a dot between the syllables, while words that are hyphenated will have a hyphen in place of the dot. Look carefully, and you’ll see the difference.
So, dear reader, go out and hyphenate freely! And as you fill the world with hyphens, remember: It’s all about making things clear for your reader.
Christopher Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, NY. As a community-college specialist, Mr. Altman is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language.
Punctuation Toolbox: The Hyphen
The hyphen—often mistaken for its longer cousin, the dash—is one of the most useful but overlooked pieces of punctuation in the writing toolbox.
Don’t believe me? Consider the following sentence:
I purchased two foot long beams from the hardware store.
What am I saying here? Am I saying . . .
I purchased two beams, each of which was one foot long?
Or,
I purchased an unexpressed number of beams, each of which was two feet long?
Reread the original sentence. Which message does it give?
The answer is that we don’t know. Besides completely rewriting the sentence, what is the best way to make the message of the sentence clear? If you’re thinking, “the hyphen,” you’re right on the money. The hyphen clears all ambiguity by telling the reader how to group the words.
Check it out:
I purchased two foot-long beams from the hardware store. (Two beams, each one foot long.)
I purchased two-foot-long beams from the hardware store. (Each beam is two feet long.)
See how that works? Notice that the terms “foot-long” and “two-foot-long” act as adjectives—that is, words that describe nouns, or things. (The adjective rule of thumb is good to keep in mind: an adjective tells us what kind of thing [or noun] it is. Consider our example, above. What kind of beam is it? It’s a two-foot-long beam.)
So, although hyphens have many odd uses, the main use for a hyphen is to provide clarity by making a single adjective out of two or more words. Confusing? Here are some examples, with the multi-word adjective underlined and the noun it modifies in italics.
Denise’s eight-year-old son is named Billy. (Adjective: eight-year-old. Noun: son)
James Joyce, the twentieth-century Irish author, spent much of his life abroad. (Adjective: twentieth-century. Noun: author)
In the example above, I hyphenate the words twentieth and century to show that they function as one unit: a single adjective. So, why didn’t I include Irish in the hyphenated construction as well?
Simple: It’s a separate adjective. Twentieth-century and Irish are two distinct adjectives, both of which apply to James Joyce. In essence, the sentence states that James Joyce is (1) a twentieth-century author and (2) an Irish author. A simpler example is seen in the sentence, “Bob drives a big red truck.” The truck is big and it is red. Both adjectives apply to the truck, but they apply separately, which is why we would not say, “Bob drives a big-red truck” (unless his profession involves delivering chewing gum). The adjective, twentieth-century, works the same way as one-word adjectives like big or red.
See how that works?
Here is one of my favorite multi-word adjectives, from John Updike’s short story, “A&P”:
She kept her eyes moving across the racks, and stopped, and turned so slow it made my stomach rub the inside of my apron, and buzzed to the other two, who kind of huddled against her for relief, and then they all three of them went up the cat-and-dog-food-breakfast-cereal-macaroni-rice-raisins-seasonings-spreads-spaghetti-soft-drinks-crackers-and-cookies aisle.
That’s one heck of an adjective! And, yes, these seventeen words function as a single adjective for the noun, aisle. We know this, because Updike hyphenated them.
With the examples above in mind, here is the hyphen rule of thumb: Use hyphens to create multi-word adjectives. If you know that, you know ninety percent of all there is to know about hyphens. (Congratulations!) Still, hyphens have their finer points and irregular occurrences. . . .
If you are curious about those finer points, stay tuned for the next article: “Hyphen Odds and Ends.”
Christopher Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse
, NY. As a community-college specialist, Mr. Altman is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language.
“Punctuation Toolbox” Introduction: Why Writers Need More Than Periods and Question Marks
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation: periods, question marks, and exclamation points. With a bit more consideration, they may think of some mid-sentence punctuation like the comma, and perhaps the semicolon.
If your punctuation toolbox stops there—with periods, commas, and question marks—then I expect that you often struggle to put what you want to say in writing. Consider the first sentence of this article. You may have noticed that I used a colon to introduce that list of the most commonly known punctuation. What if I did not know that function of the colon? (Many everyday Americans and new writing students don’t.) How would I introduce my list?
Well, I might make the most common substitution of using a comma in place of a colon. After all, commas can be used to introduce certain elements in writing, like quotations. If I had used a comma, the sentence would look like this:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation, periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
Ugh. As you may have noticed, the problem with using a comma to introduce this list is that the term, “end punctuation” appears to be the first item in the list when, in fact, it sums up all of the items that follow. That didn’t work.
Other writers, avoiding the comma as the introducing element, may simply choose to put nothing there. Here is the sentence that this let-it-be approach yields:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
Do you see the issue here? Once again, there is confusion with the first item of the list. Now, that first item appears to be something known as “end punctuation periods.” This let-it-be approach didn’t work any better than the comma approach.
I have seen this solution as well, using a semicolon:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation; periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
This is the best solution so far, since it creates a clear-cut break between the category, “end punctuation,” and the list of examples that follows. The problem, though, is that introducing lists is not really a function of the semicolon, and this slight misuse confuses readers. The semicolon—except in very rare cases (which I will discuss in the article on semicolons)—is used to combine two complete sentences. It replaces a period, or a comma-plus-coordinating-conjunction transition. It would not be used to separate a mere list of words from a complete sentence.
I have even seen students try to use a period as an introducing element. Of course, since a period represents a full stop to a sentence, it creates no transition into the list, and the attempt backfires, to say the least:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation. Periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
This leaves us with a fragment—and not a stylistic one. (Do you remember stylistic fragments from the previous series on grade-school English myths?) The words, “periods, question marks, and exclamation points” is not a sentence, but since the writer has ended the preceding statement with a period, and has capitalized the letter P in period and placed an end-sentence period after the last word, points, this grouping of terms appears in the form of a sentence. This confuses the poor reader.
Come on, dear writer: use a colon, already! Here, once again, is our original sentence, with the colon. Notice how clear-cut the message is:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation: periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
With the colon introducing the list, the commas serve their function of separating the items (so we know that the two-word term, “question marks,” is not two items—“question” and “marks,” but one item). The colon is not mistaken for combining two sentences (the problem with the semicolon), nor is it mistaken as part of the list (the issue with the comma). Simply put, the colon is the right tool for the job.
But, it’s not the only tool for the job, although up to this point, I have misled you to think so.
I could also replace the colon with a dash, if I intend a bit more spontaneity—that is, more bang—in introducing the list:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of end punctuation—periods, question marks, and exclamation points.
My rule of thumb for using dashes: think of a dash as a replacement for colons and some commas, used when the writer wants a tone of spontaneity and suddenness in the punctuation. Think of a dash as a “sudden colon” or a “spontaneous comma.” It does not merely walk readers gently into the next word of the writing. It pushes them into it. (More on dashes later.)
If I want to be extremely clear, I might add yet one more technique. This one does not replace the colon, but it assists in keeping the items very clear:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of three forms of end punctuation: (1) periods, (2) question marks, and (3) exclamation points.
As you can see, one use of parentheses is to set off numbers in a mid-sentence list. Notice that I used this technique after stating the total number of items in the list. (I told the reader beforehand that there would be three items in the list.) The numbering drives that point home, and it assists the commas in separating the three items further. It also acts as an at-a-glance visual aid for the reader, should she feel the need to review the items of the list later.
And, yes, I could also use this parenthetical item numbering with the dash introduction:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of three forms of end punctuation—(1) periods, (2) question marks, and (3) exclamation points.
Both examples are crystal-clear, aren’t they? But what if I used the numbers without setting them off in parentheses? The sentence would look like this:
When many people hear the word punctuation, they think of three forms of end punctuation—1 periods, 2 question marks, and 3 exclamation points.
Yuck! That looks horrible. It looks horrible because we are conditioned to see numbers as pluralizing or quantifying the nouns they precede. In other words, when the reader sees the phrase, “2 question marks,” she thinks that I am talking about two question marks, not “item number two: question marks.” See the difference? Notice how, with the parentheses separating the numbers from the language of the sentence, their role as external numbering labels is clear.
Behold: the power of advanced punctuation! (Or should I have written, “Behold—the power of advanced punctuation”?) The art of writing, first and foremost, involves writing exactly what you mean to say. A big part of developing that skill is in the words and phrases you use, but the stuff between the words—the pauses, the lurches, the hesitations, the shifts, the stops—is of equal importance. Accomplishing these distinct effects is the number-one reason for building a diverse punctuation toolbox.
Do you want to learn more about advanced punctuation? Read on!
(Stay tuned for articles on advanced punctuation. In this series, entitled, “Punctuation Toolbox,” I will commit articles to punctuation techniques for hyphens, dashes, colons, semicolons, parentheses, and more. I will post links to each article here, at the end of this introductory article.)
Christopher Altman, a community-college composition specialist, is passionate about bringing the art of effective wri
ting to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language. Mr. Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York.
Myths We Learn in Grade-School English: Myth 3–Do Not Begin Sentences with “Because.”
It’s time to tackle Myth #3: “Do not begin sentences with because.” Did you learn this myth—perhaps from a teacher? When? Elementary school? Middle school? High school? (Please, dear reader, don’t tell me you learned this in high school.) Well, no matter when you learned this myth, it’s time to bust it.
Contrary to what many of us learned in grade-school English class, proficient writers often begin sentences with because. In fact, I expect that many writers could not imagine life without this writing practice. It’s especially nice for those times when the writer wants to emphasize the cause by placing it at the beginning of the sentence, which then allows the sentence to culminate with the effect. And, if you think about it, this cause-then-effect approach is more natural in the sense that it represents a chronological order. In reality, causes precede their effects; sentences that begin with because mimic this natural sequence of events.
So, why do teachers perpetuate this myth? Read on.
Reason 1: Children Do Not Know How to Represent Pauses in Sentences
Let’s return to little Billy and his third-grade English teacher, Mrs. Humperdinkle, both of whom we visited in the previous article on coordinating conjunctions. Mrs. Humperdinkle is teaching Billy how to use the word because in his writing. She notices that Billy begins sentences with because in the following way:
I went to Disney World. I liked it a lot. Because of all the rides.
In the example sentence above, Billy shows not only that he does not know how to begin sentences with because, but also that he does not yet understand how to form pauses using commas. He has heard because spoken before, with a slight pause before it, and he represents that pause with the only punctuation he knows: a period.
What Billy really intends, then, is not a sentence-starter because, but a mid-sentence one. Here is the sentence that Billy would write, if he understood comma use:
I went to Disney World. I liked it a lot, because of all the rides.
Unfortunately, Billy hasn’t gotten there yet, but he is working on it. (I hear, by the way, that Mrs. Humperdinkle’s next lesson will cover commas.)
Reason 2: Children Do Not Know How to Use Conversational Fragments in Writing
There’s a second reason Mrs. Humperdinkle does not want Billy beginning sentences with because: he is still learning to differentiate between the conventions of spoken, conversational English and written English. Consider the following spoken conversation between Billy and his mother.
Little Billy has just returned home from school. His mother greets him:
Mom: Hello, Billy. How was school today?
Billy: It was okay. It coulda been better.
Mom: Why? What’s wrong.
Billy: Mrs. Humperdinkle gave me a D.
Mom: Why did you get a D?
Billy: Because I can’t write!
The example above is what I call a “dialogic fragment,” but I’m sure the Grammar Gods have other names for it. The word, dialogic, has to do with things pertaining to dialogue, or spoken conversation. As its name implies, a dialogic fragment is a sentence part (a fragment) that is posed as a full utterance in spoken conversation. It often completes an idea raised by another speaker in a preceding question. (By the way, dear reader, if the word, dialogic, sounds a bit stodgy to you, you might try “conversational fragment” instead.)
But in writing, there is only one person communicating. While good writers do project an imaginary reader, that reader does not exist at the time of the writing. Yes, there are times that writers use dialogic fragments in their writing, but oftentimes such fragments complete a preceding question that the writer has raised on behalf of the reader. Why would writers knowingly commit this grammar no-no? Because they want their readers to hear a conversational tone, of course.
Still, I suggest making this writing gambit sparingly, and only when you feel confident that you can get in your reader’s mind as you write—a practice that I think represents the highest level of writing proficiency. This level of proficiency requires not only skill in writing, but also life experience. It requires a sense of other people, and what they are thinking as they read your words. You can’t just learn this in a college writing course. You have to converse with people. You have to observe how they respond to things you say. You have to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations, and note the exchange of ideas, arguments, and dreams. To be complete as a writer, you have to get out there and live.
Needless to say, our friend little Billy is not at that point. He is just starting to understand other people, and to consider them as feeling, thinking beings. Empathy is a very new skill for him, and so too is writing.
In other words: Billy is not ready to begin sentences with because.
Reason 3: Children Lack the Attention Spans to Control Sentences Beginning with Because
Believe it or not, there is yet a third reason that little Billy should avoid beginning sentences with because: he has not developed an attention span that allows him to handle long, complex sentences, especially ones that begin with dependent clauses.
Does all this talk of dependent clauses and complex sentences sound like mumbo-jumbo? I’ll explain:
After speaking with his mother, little Billy goes up to his room to do his homework. He wants to do his English first. (That’s my kinda kid!) Billy sits down to revise his essay on his summer vacation at Disney World. He begins:
I really liked Disney World. It was fun. There were rides everywhere I went. I got to meet Mickey Mouse. It was really just a guy dressed up like Mickey Mouse, but it was still fun. Because Disney World is so big—
Ding. The doorbell interrupts Billy’s writing, and—more importantly—his train of thought. He stops at the sound. A moment later, his mother calls up to him,
“Billy, Jason is here. He is wondering if you want to play ball.”
Of course, Billy would much rather play ball than write. (He’s a kid; who can blame him?) Leaving all thoughts of Disney World upstairs in his room, Billy rushes to the front yard, where he will have a great time shooting hoops with Jason. When Billy returns from playing ball, his mother sends him to the shower. After he is clean, Billy eats dinner. By the time he gets back to writing, it is nearly 8 PM.
Now, where was he? Billy looks at the paper. He sees what looks like a full paragraph, and he sees something that looks like a sentence at the end of it:
Because Disney World is so big.
Billy thinks about it for only a moment, and then he pops in a period and moves on, leaving the would-be sentence as it is. After all, it looks long enough to be a sentence. And, he writes lots of sentences with because—sentences that look just like that one.
Do you see the problem? Even if he had thought to begin a sentence with because, Billy lacks the concentration and experience to control his sentences. He will get there in time, but right now, beginning sentences with because is one-hundred-percent out of bounds.
Now, Mrs. Humperdinkle, in her great wisdom, knows that if Billy is forced to begin with the independent clause and end with the dependent clause, the scenario described above will not occur. Sounds like mumbo-jumbo again? (Sigh—demanding readers!) I will explain.
Here is the full idea that Billy wanted to express in that sentence:
Because Disney World is so big, I did not see all of it.
Here it is inverted, with a few adjustments to nouns and pronouns:
I did not see all of Disney World because it is so big.
Imagine that Billy had tried writing this idea the second way. If he had been interrupted—or if his attention span was simply running on fumes—he would still have the following complete idea:
I did not see all of Disney World.
Sure, I suggest that Billy expand on this idea, by giving both the outcome and the cause, but at least this half of the sentence expresses a complete idea. Writing this way, for Billy, is safe. Billy’s teacher knows this.
But we are not Billy. Adult writers should have strong enough attention spans and mastery over basic punctuation to be able to begin sentences with because, and then to complete the sentence with an independent clause. Just because Mrs. Humperdinkle does not want Billy beginning sentences with because does not mean that adults should do the same. She also doesn’t want Billy driving a car. Does that mean you should turn in your keys and start scanning Blue Book values?
The same is true for writing.
Next up: Other Words Like Because
The myth that we should not begin sentences with because extends to other words, like since, when, and although. So, before moving on to Myth #4, this is a good point to share some thoughts on words like because. Also, if you are wondering what I mean when I talk about things like independent clauses or dependent clauses, rest assured that I will address these points—and others—in the upcoming article.
Here is the link to that article:
Christopher Altman, a community-college composition specialist, is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language. Mr. Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York.
Myths We Learn in Grade-School English: The Myth of the Run-On Sentence
Run-On Sentences: What They Are (And What They Are Not)
In this series of articles, I hope to dethrone some of the myths of writing that many of us learn in grade-school English. First up is the myth of the run-on sentence. We should begin by recognizing that there is an error called a run-on sentence. I will address that error shortly. First, though, I need to address the myth, written below.
Is Mr. Gump a run-on man, or just a man who runs a long way?
The Myth of the Run-on Sentence:
A run-on sentence is a long sentence. Any time you write a very long sentence, it is a run-on sentence. The notion of “run-on” describes the long nature of the sentence; that is, the long sentence runs on and on.
This myth needs to be busted right now. (Although, unlike the popular myth-busting television show, my myth-busting will involve neither exploding fuel tanks, nor handlebar-mustached bald men swimming with man-eating sharks.) Contrary to what we may learn from the teachers of early childhood, long sentences are not run-on sentences. Further, people should feel free to write long sentences, when doing so serves their purposes.
You may recall me mentioning that there is an actual error known as a run-on sentence. If that run-on error is not defined as a long sentence, then what exactly is a run-on sentence? Simple: a run-on sentence is writing two (or more) sentences together, with no punctuation or connecting words between them. They can be long, but they are often short.
One caveat: many teachers now have a new name for run-on sentences: fused sentences. Such educators use this term to avoid confusion with the term run-on sentence. While I do find the term fused sentence more specific and literal than run-on sentence, I stick with the original term when explaining this grammatical error to students and readers. Why? I hope to return the language to its correct usage. For me to change terms because other people create false definitions is for me to say, “It’s fine for people to get their terms wrong. If others (who don’t know what the heck they’re talking about) use the term run-on to mean long sentences, they should feel free to keep using it that way (that is, the wrong way). Instead of correcting the misuse of the term, run-on sentence, I will just step aside and use the term fused sentence.” Nonsense! It’s time to get our terms right. With that purpose in mind, here are the terms that I propose using for these writing practices:
Run-On Sentence: The writer runs two sentences together with no punctuation.
Long Sentence: A long sentence
How to Fix Run-On Sentences
What do run-on sentences look like? Here is an example of a true run-on sentence. Note its brevity:
I enjoy Facebook the status comments are fun.
Here are the two sentences, written separately:
1. I enjoy Facebook.
2. The status comments are fun.
This run-on (like most of them) is easy to fix. Dividing the parts into two separate sentences, although in some cases a legitimate option, is not the best way to fix this particular run-on. Think about it: the writer probably put them together because their messages are related. The writer should show that connection by combining the sentences using punctuation and/or combining words. Here are two quick ways to combine those sentences into a single statement:
I enjoy Facebook; the status comments are fun. (Semicolon—shows an unspoken connection.)
I enjoy Facebook because the status comments are fun. (Relative adverb “because”—shows effect-cause)
Or, you might try revising for more enriched sentence structures, like this one:
Facebook’s status comments are fun, so I enjoy using that site.
The combining word here is “so.” Particularly, “so” is what we call a “coordinating conjunction.” The other six coordinating conjunctions are and, yet, but, or, for, and nor. Always choose the best coordinating conjunction to express the relationship between the two related sentences.
Here is yet another way to express the cause-effect relationship between the two sentence parts:
Since its status comments are fun, I enjoy Facebook.
In the example above, I reversed the effect-cause order to create a cause-effect order. This reversal involved placing the relative adverb “since” at the beginning of the sentence. I could do this with the earlier example sentence involving “because.” Here is that sentence, reordered:
Because the status comments are fun, I enjoy Facebook.
Finally, if I want a bit of additional clarity, I might try something completely different:
I enjoy Facebook for its status comments, a feature that I find incredibly fun.
And so on. The sky’s the limit.
Comma Splice and Run-On Sentence: Essentially the Same Error
If you read my articles on commas, you may recall an error called the comma splice. A run-on sentence is quite similar to a comma splice, in that both involve running two sentences together without the adequate degree of connective material.
To review, a comma splice (literally, a “comma joining”) uses only a comma to connect two sentences. Here is an example:
I enjoy Facebook, the status comments are fun. (Comma Splice)
The formula for a comma splice looks like this:
(Sentence) + (Comma) + (Sentence) = Comma Splice
Similarly, a run-on uses nothing to connect the two sentences. It just runs them together:
I enjoy Facebook the status comments are fun.
The formula for a run-on sentence looks like this:
(Sentence) + (Nothing) + (Sentence) = Run-On Sentence
As the examples above demonstrate, the comma splice and the run-on sentence are very similar. In fact, they differ only by one comma. For this reason, I consider the comma splice a special type of run-on sentence. The key to addressing both of these issues is simply knowing that you need more than a comma—and, of course, more than nothing—to combine two full-blown sentences.
Here are some options:
1. Semicolon (;) (This shows an unspoken connection and creates a slightly longer pause than a comma.)
Example Sentence: The term, fused sentence, is specific; I still prefer run-on sentence.
2. Comma + Coordinating Conjunction:
The Seven Coordinating Conjunctions: and, but, yet, so, or, nor, for
Example Sentence: The term, fused sentence, is specific, but I prefer run-on sentence.
3. Relative Adverbs and Pronouns (sometimes with commas, sometimes not)
Some Relative Adverbs: because, since, although, though, which, while, etc.
Example Sentence: While the term, fused sentence, is specific, I prefer run-on sentence.
4. Semicolon + Conjunctive Adverb + Comma
Some conjunctive adverbs: however, thus, therefore, hence, moreover, furthermore, etc.
Example Sentence: The term, fused sentence, is specific; however, I prefer run-on sentence.
A note on conjunctive adverbs: Use semicolon + conjunctive adverb + comma formations when combining two large or impacting sentences, especially in formal writing. Use them when you are trying to express a point of some gravity, to make the reader pause between the sentences and say, “Oh, the writer’s about to drop something heavy on me. I’d better pay attention.” Think of these conjunctive adverbs as emphatic versions of coordinating conjunctions. For example, the conjunctive adverb however serves much the same function as the coordinating conjunction (but); however, the conjunctive adverb is stronger—more emphatic—than the coordinating conjunction. It makes for a stronger break in the sentence structure. When you need to place extra emphasis on the but-ness of a sentence, make sure to use however.
5. In some cases, specialized punctuation works. For example, in cases where you are making a statement that expresses equal identity or renames the thing being discussed, try a colon.
Example: Here’s the problem with run-on sentences: too many people don’t know what the heck they are.
This is to say . . .
The problem with run-on sentences = too many people don’t know what the heck they are.
(Note on colons: I think of the colon as the equal sign of writing. Heck, they even look a bit alike. If that analogy works for you, then feel free to use it.)
Is There Any Truth in the Myth?
Long sentences are not run-on sentences—fair enough. But can’t a long sentence still be bad? Isn’t there a point where a long, meandering sentence loses your reader’s interest, making him feel that he is being drawn into an endless vortex of words, one that spirals ever away from the core content of the sentence, where the poor reader, by the end, feels like he would be better off reading, say, a good science-fiction novel (like Richard K. Morgan’s Altered Carbon—one of the most fascinating, and horrifying, visions of humanity’s future), since he feels that your writing leads him down a linguistic rabbit hole into some other world of meaning, in the very same way that this sentence (the one you are finishing now) does?
Sure. This happens with excessively long sentence structures, especially those that lack unifying elements, like the sentence above. Even so, writing lengthy sentences is a matter of style—not a matter of grammar. It is a matter of knowing your audience. For example, if I was writing a handout on verbs for fifth graders, I would not want to use terribly long sentence structures. I would stick with short, to-the-point statements. But to use those same sentence structures when writing a tutorial for my college composition students would be to insult my readers’ intelligence. When making decisions about sentence length, do not think in terms of right and wrong; think instead in terms of effective and ineffective, appropriate and inappropriate.
Sentence length is not only a matter of audience, but also of the writer. Most elementary-school teachers forbid children from attempting long sentences because those children lack the control (and the attention span) to be able to compose long sentences that are cohesive, or even readable. Like the child who cannot yet operate the stove, the fledgling writer cannot yet handle long sentences. Children should first master the essentials of short sentences (subjects, predicates, and basic content) before moving on to expressing long, complex notions.
Still, when does long become too long? Is there a standard maximum length for sentences? If so, where do we draw that line? Should we figure that all sentences should remain between one and five lines long? Should we say that a sentence taking up an entire paragraph is too long? Should we set any limits at all?
You tell me. Consider the following sentence, taken from Martin Luther King’s “Letter From Birmingham Jail.” Is it effective? Despite its great length, does it flow well? Does it keep you reading?
Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick, and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking, “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are), and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.
MLK: A great American civil-rights leader, but also a great American writer.
With the exception of the first line, that paragraph is one sentence. Stunningly powerful, isn’t it? Think about the elements that keep the reader on track. Do you see any repeating patterns? How might such patterns function to unify the sentence? Also, does the unity of the sentence’s content (what it says) reflect the unity of the sentence’s style (how it says it)? Since King is talking about the notion of having to wait, do you think he might be trying to make the reader wait for the end of the sentence? Why might he do this? These are all points of consideration.
Still, I wonder how many would write “run-on error” beside this sentence? I’d like to think not too many, although people—even some English teachers—surprise me. If MLK had taken that approach, we would not have this impacting, moving sentence. I am glad he ignored the conventional wisdom of grade-school English and chose effective writing instead. We should do the same.
Are there times, though, when the conventions of grade-school English are good? Are the teachers of our early childhood right to teach the myths of grade-school English? The next article, “True for Children, Not for Adults” answers these questions—and more. Stay tuned.
Works Cited
King, Martin Luther, Jr. “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” The Autobiography of Martin Luther King, Jr. Ed. Clayborne Carson.New York: Warner Books, 1998. 188-204.
Christopher Altman, a community-college composition specialist, is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language. Mr. Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York.
Conclusion: Commas Are Essential to Writing
In closing this exploration of the comma, here is a fun example that drives home the importance of mastering this common yet often misunderstood writing tool. The example is slightly modified from an example that Lynne Truss shares in her punctuation handbook, Eats, Shoots, and Leaves.
Consider the following sentence:
The woman without her man is nothing.
Not a good statement to make, is it? (When I present this sentence in English classes, I become the target of many an angry glare from female students.) Now, let’s improve this sentence by adding some commas:
The woman, without her, man is nothing.
Two commas—and nothing more—have drastically altered the meaning of this sentence. In fact, this second sentence expresses the very opposite message from that of the first.
Commas matter. Far too often, people think of commas as cute separating squiggles—useful, to be sure, but hardly critical. Transformed completely by the presence of two commas, the sentence above blows popular underestimations of the comma clean out of the water.
Granted, commas may not always make as drastic a change as the one seen in the example above, but they often make for some kind of difference in meaning. And, even if they do not change a sentence’s meaning, commas tell our audience how to read our prose. Commas tell readers where to pause and where to lower intonation. Commas, without taking up any more than a single space of text, identify clauses, phrases, and words that act as modifying asides within larger sentences. Commas play much the same role that rests play in music, and that negative space plays in visual art. Just as absence is essential to music and art, so too is the comma essential to writing. To understand and apply the comma is to manipulate absence, as well as presence, in the art of writing; it gives you control, not only over what is said, but also over what is not said.
With these points in mind, mastering this writing essential is worth your best effort.
Next up: Myths We Learn in Grade-School English
Well, that’s it for commas (at least, for now). It’s time to move on to another subject, one that I find both fascinating and troubling. In the course of our early education in English and writing, many of us learn sets of writing rules, especially in the form of “do” and “do not.” Useful in the early stages of writing, these rules are presented to us as set-in-stone absolutes, and not as practices that are subject to change. But, as we develop as thinkers and writers, these rules begin to seem constrictive and even counter-productive to our writing. Still, so adamantly did our childhood teachers express these rules, that we cringe even at the thought of breaking them.
Do you know what I’m talking about? Here are a few examples I’ll bet you’ve encountered. Have you ever heard a teacher say, “Never begin sentences with coordinating conjunctions like and or but”? Or maybe you’ve heard this one: “Do not ever use the personal pronoun you in your writing”? Do these rules trouble you, given the fact that journalists and award-winning writers frequently commit such taboos to create expressive, moving prose? Do you ever find yourself wanting—or perhaps needing—to break these rules?
If so, the upcoming series of articles, entitled, “Myths We Learn in Grade-School English,” is for you.
Here is a link to the introduction of that series:
Christopher Altman, a community-college composition specialist, is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language. Mr. Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York.
Stylistic Commas: To Comma or Not to Comma?
Too often, people think of commas purely in terms of right and wrong, correct and incorrect. Sometimes, though, comma placement is a matter of choice. In such cases, the decision to use a comma depends on the writer’s intention. Maybe she wants to emphasize a word by creating pauses, both before and after the word. Maybe she wants to show that some phrase or word is nonessential to the main point of the sentence. Such comma placements may not be grammatically necessary, but they serve the purpose of style.
Consider the following sentence. Here are two ways I can write it. Note that both ways are grammatically correct, but stylistically distinct:
Comma placement sometimes comes down to a matter of choice.
Comma placement, sometimes, comes down to a matter of choice.
In the first sentence, I do not place any extra emphasis on the adverb, “sometimes.” The second sentence emphasizes the word—showcases it—so that the reader is left with the impression that the adverb, “sometimes,” is of central importance to the sentence’s message. It stresses the point that comma placement is a matter of choice, but only in some cases. Logically enough, I call such commas “stylistic commas.” You might also call them “optional commas,” or even “optional stylistic commas.” Think of it in whatever terms work best for you.
How do we know where to use stylistic commas? My method is to think about where I want emphatic pauses, and then to apply the comma rule of thumb. Do you remember that rule from our previous comma discussions? Just to be sure, here is the full version of the comma rule of thumb, with exceptions included:
Comma Rule of Thumb: Wherever you intend a slight pause, usually for emphasis, use a comma. The only exception is if you are connecting two sentences, in which case you need a semicolon to show the pause.
With the comma rule of thumb in mind, think about the following sentences. Consider where I want readers to pause, and how I show those pauses with commas. Also, consider why I want readers to pause in those places.
The community college, in my view, is a valuable resource for non-traditional adult learners.
Commas are simple, once we embrace their complexity.
I enjoy writing, and teaching it.
Notice how, in that third sentence, I placed a comma before the coordinating conjunction “and,” although I did not use “and” to combine two independent clauses. You may recall a past article, where I stated that the purpose of the comma preceding “and” is to show that “and” functions to combine two complete sentences. Although the statement, “I enjoy writing,” is a complete sentence, the phrase, “teaching it,” is hardly a complete sentence. Is this comma placement an error, then? Did I misuse the comma?
No. Though it appears to disobey established rules, I used that comma correctly. I placed that comma to create a stylistic pause before “and”—not to support it as a coordinating conjunction. This comma does not exist for any grammatical purpose. It serves the effect of creating a stylistic pause between two different ideas: (1) writing and (2) teaching writing. I want my reader to see that I recognize writing and teaching writing as two distinctly different practices. That comma (and the pause it represents) expresses that distinction. My reader knows then, that although I recognize them as two distinct practices, I enjoy both writing and teaching writing. The content of my writing (namely, that there is a separation between writing and teaching writing) is reflected by a separation in the writing that expresses that notion. When placing stylistic commas, intention and purpose matter.
Still, situations like this cause a great deal of comma confusion. Armed with the (normally useful) rule that “commas precede coordinating conjunctions to show that they combine two complete sentences,” novice writers encounter a sentence like the third example above, and they are suddenly lost. I can hear them now: “I thought the comma rules said I should place commas before coordinating conjunctions only to show that two sentences are being combined. This is not a case where two sentences are being combined, yet there it is: a comma before ‘and.’ What gives?”
What must give is the notion that commas are always dictated by set-in-stone, all-encompassing rules. One additional rule accompanies every comma rule I have given you up to this point: use commas wherever you think a separation, or emphatic pause, should occur to highlight some word, phrase, or clause. Reading your sentence aloud—the way you want it to sound—and then placing commas where you hear pauses is a good start. The comma rule of thumb will not lead you astray.
Other Options (Dashes, Parentheses, and Colons)
If you find that a sentence seems overburdened with commas, try using other forms of punctuation that set things off (like parentheses, dashes, and colons—but only where appropriate).
Consider the first sentence of this section (the sentence directly above this one). What if I had expressed every pause with commas, as in the sentence below?
If you find that a sentence looks overburdened with commas, try using other forms of punctuation that set things off, like parentheses, dashes, and colons, but only where appropriate.
So many commas! Like mobs of traders scrambling over the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, these commas create an environment of clutter and confusion. Each comma performs its own task, but through doing so, these commas collide with one another and disrupt the clarity of the sentence—the very effect that commas should evoke. This overabundance of overlapping commas can leave readers confused. In cases like the one above, I consider ways that I can use other forms of punctuation to make the various divisions clear and distinct. (See the first version of my sentence—much better, isn’t it?)
Still, be careful to use the best form of punctuation for the tone you are trying to express. Choosing parentheses over commas is not an arbitrary decision—a random replacement in which you say, “Those parentheses look nice here. What the heck?—I’ll pop one in, just because.” Parentheses—though very similar to commas when setting off tangential, interrupting phrases—still serve a distinct role. And, like parentheses, dashes and colons each have their unique purpose.
Here is a very brief breakdown of how these forms of punctuation serve unique roles in setting off interrupting or modifying phrases in sentences:
Parentheses: Set off the interrupting phrase in a subtle tone (as if the writer is whispering an inside scoop into the reader’s ear).
Dashes: Set off the interrupting phrase in a spontaneous, almost exclamatory tone—the total opposite of parentheses.
If parentheses are subtle and quiet, while dashes are spontaneous and loud, consider commas neutral. They emphasize the words and phrases they set off, but they do so in a calm yet firm tone. With the appearance of a comma, there is often a slight drop in pitch, but the tone, although slightly altered, remains neutral.
Consider these forms of punctuation in terms of the scale below:
Punctuation Volume Mood
Dash: exclaimed (almost) Loud Bold
Comma: spoken normally Neutral Calm
Parentheses: whispered Quiet Intimate
Finally, consider the colon. (Two dots, one above the other [:], the colon is not to be confused with the semicolon [;]). The colon expresses equality of two items, whether words, phrases, or sentences. The colon is the equal sign of writing: one reason many dictionaries use it between a word and the word’s definition. (Think about it: a definition is simply a restatement of the word it defines.) Notice how, in the preceding sentences, I used colons, not to set off interrupting phrases, but to create two sides of each sentence. In mathematical terms, here is what I said in that first sentence:
[the fact that] the colon is the equal sign of writing = one reason many dictionaries use it.
Or, consider the parenthetical sentence that followed:
Think about it: a definition is simply a restatement of the word it defines.
By using a colon, I am defining the pronoun “it” as used in my sentence. With that purpose in mind, here is the essential redefinition of “it” in my sentence’s context:
it: [the notion that ]a definition is simply a restatement of the word it defines
A mathematician might prefer to see it written this way:
it = [the notion that] a definition is simply a restatement of the word it defines
Now, with that definition of “it” in mind, I might rewrite the sentence this way:
Think about the notion that a definition is simply a restatement of the word it defines.
Still, this new non-colon version is not nearly as striking as the first version, is it? This new version sounds over explained, and maybe a bit stodgy. Worse yet, it lacks spontaneity and assertion. The first version challenges the reader, in three forceful words, to consider an idea about something that seems familiar and maybe a bit dull, namely, a dictionary definition. It creates mid-sentence suspense, a pause that says, “I’m about to say something thoughtful. Here it comes! Are you ready?” It expresses the notion that the idea is simple, if we stop to consider it. When the reader sees those words, “Think about it,” there is a sense, whether conscious or unconscious, that something interesting and thoughtful (but often overlooked) is on the other side of that colon. The colon puts the reader into a mindset to receive the idea that follows it.
See how that works?
Conclusion: To Comma or Not to Comma?
If you feel that your writing too often reads like an uninterrupted, clinical stream of data, consider some consciously placed stylistic commas. On the other hand, if you feel that commas are a bit excessive in your writing, or that you are writing in a monotone, play with dashes, parentheses, and colons. Each has its own unique place in the writer’s toolbox.
Stay tuned for the conclusion to this series on commas, where I will share an interesting example of how commas can change the meaning of sentences. With that conclusion, we will bid this handy writing tool farewell, at least for a time. After that, I will leave our discussion of punctuation for a while, to examine the myths of writing that many of us learn in grade-school English.
Here is the link to the conclusion of these comma articles:
Christopher Altman, a community-college composition specialist, is passionate about bringing the art of effective writing to average, everyday Americans. He has published work in the field of medieval literature, and has authored a book on advertising language entitled, Telling the Truth to Deceive: How Advertisers Manipulate the English Language. Mr. Altman is an assistant professor of English at Onondaga Community College in Syracuse, New York.
