This is one that’s often lost in translation—or lost in ignorance, maybe. When you’re talking about multi-lingual experts, do you know the difference between interpreters and translators?
Hint: Sign-language translators are incredibly rare.
Interpreters work with spoken text, and translators work with written text. It’s simple, really, but you hear it wrong all the time. Live speeches have interpreters. Multi-national meetings have interpreters. Interviews with a language barrier have interpreters. Why is it that “translator” is so ubiquitous? 50% of the time, it’s actually wrong.
I try to be convincing here on this blog—persuasive that grammar is indeed important. Have I convinced you, dear reader? Hopefully. Have I persuaded you? No. Trick question.
Though most people seem to use them interchangeably, “to convince” and “to persuade” should be used in different situations. The difference is all about what someone is being convinced of or persuaded to do. My word choice is intentional there. You convince someone of an idea. You persuade someone to take some sort of action.
Politics can be fascinating, can’t they? Every once in a while I play with writing opinion pieces (like this), some of which walk on the edge of political debate. Recently, I came across a book on the subject entitled Political Writing: A Guide to the Essentials. In it, the author writes:
“So it stands to reason that one of the tasks you must successfully complete in your quest to become a good writer is to expand your vocabulary. The more words you have mastered, the more distinctions you can make.”
I’m totally cheering on the author at this point. He clearly gets it. He’s helping people change the world. He’s surely a master with words himself. Then, I come upon this sentence:
“Mark Twain, who once observed that there are no true synonyms in the English language, said it best: ‘The difference between the right word and the wrong word is the difference between lightening and the lightening bug.’”
And once again, I shake my head at the state of politics today. Even their advisers seem lacking. Did you catch why?
“Lightening” and “lightning” are two different words. That giant bolt of static electricity once thought to be summoned by the gods is “lightning.” The verb “to lighten” is written as “lightening” in its present participle state. Auto-correct or spellcheck won’t help you with this one. You just have to pay attention.
Clever old Samuel Clements had his way with words, so let’s at least try to do the man justice by getting them right.
Uh oh, did the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles get it wrong? Some stuffy grammarians might just raise their noses, insisting these were “teenaged” mutant ninja turtles. In fact, that was the first form of the word and therefore correct, they’d say. But don’t listen. They’re wrong.
I don’t know what it is about this word in particular, but for some reason certain people insist that “teenaged” came first. My guess is that they’re making a connection to words like “ice(d) tea,” “skim(med) milk,” or “whip(ped) cream,” where the final “d” has been lost over time. However, the first use of “teen-age” was in 1921. “Teen-aged” didn’t appear until the early 1950s. Of course, the hyphen was lost over time too.
So what does this all mean when it comes to what form is correct? In American English, “teenage” is the most common and most accepted form. So don’t call out those ninja turtles – not that you’d want to anyway. They’d probably win the fight.
The Sochi Olympics reporters have had questionable use of feminine descriptors. I’m not even talking about the difference in “Women’s” Hockey versus “Ladies’” Figure Skating or the use of “girls” when commentators wouldn’t dream of calling male athletes “boys.” Those are semantic conversations unto themselves, and this isn’t the place for them. I’m talking about the use of “women” as an adjective. (Pssst… hey guys, put down your vodka samples. “Women” is a noun!)
When you’re looking for the adjective form of “women,” “female” is usually your best bet; however, time and time again, writers are using the wrong part of speech.More
However, sometimes, the addition of an “s” is not as simple as differentiating singular and plural. Let me mess with your brain here. The following equation is also correct:
Costs + Costs = Cost
Whoa. Mind-blowing, right?
A client came to me with this question earlier in the week, and I thought it was a great one. “Cost” in its singular form refers to the sum of a total group; “costs” refers to all of the pieces within that group. For example, “the cost of a service includes material costs and labor costs.”
From legal contracts to discussions of budgets, the difference between “cost” and “costs” often befuddles people. But no longer you, savvy reader. No longer you.
No offense to Faulkner, but I think he got one of his most famous titles wrong – then again, “While I Lay Dying” doesn’t really have the same ring to it. The question came up last week: what’s the difference between “while” and “as”? It’s a great query because there is a little-known, subtle change in meaning.
As you know, both words denote simultaneous action, but do you know the difference in the following two sentences?
“As Erin petted her cat, she wondered about word choice.”
“While Erin petted her cat, she wondered about word choice.”
At first glance, they seem to say the same thing; however, one of these is a brief action and one is longer. Erin either patted her cat on the head and walked away, or she cuddled up on her couch with her cat for the evening, continually stroking its fur while reading a good book. Word usage tells us the difference.
To be specific, “as” is used for a short action, and “while” is used for a longer one.
“As Faulkner picked up his pen, he debated his title.”
“While Faulkner wrote his book, he debated a grammatical rebellion.”
It doesn’t take long to pick up a pen. It does, however, take a long time to write a book. See the difference?
In As I Lay Dying, Addie’s death is a slow one, not immediate; therefore, “while” should be the appropriate word choice. But we can chalk this one up to artistic license. We can give Faulkner that.
As a closing note, here, I like to believe that the usage of “Lay” in this title is simply the past tense of “Lie.” If it’s present tense, we have a whole other lay/lie debate. (Oh the dramas of word choice!)
What is the past tense of pet? It’s a simple question, one you’re sure to answer with confidence. Then doubt creeps into the shadows of your mind. Surely, you know the correct answer. Of course, you know the right answer. Don’t you?
Today, Niki pets her dog. Yesterday, Niki… wait for it… petted her dog.
“No, no, no,” you might say. “The past tense of pet is definitely, ‘pet’!”
To those of you holding strong to your (incorrect) convictions, let me introduce the odd story of a regular verb made irregular. The past tense of “pet” has been “petted” for over 500 years. Fairly recently, “pet” has become regularly used and accepted in informal settings – largely by Americans, rebels that we are; however, in edited text, “petted” holds strong as the correct version.
We cut the cable cord in our house two years ago, and we haven’t looked back. Except for perhaps at our spelling. Did we cut the cord? Or was it the chord? The whole situation struck a chord with me (or was it a cord?) – having that moment of staring at a word for so long, not sure which was the right one. I suppose I talk about those word confusions a lot on this blog, but whether it was new mommy-hood or something else, I had a moment of loss.
So as a refresher, “chord” discusses a musical combination; “cord” was the word I was looking for, as in a rope. To “strike a chord,” harks back to that music reference, meaning to find something familiar; to “cut the cord” means to cut ties with, as in the umbilical cord.
It’s funny how our brains leave us at times. That’s why this blog’s here, though – a resource for the moments of temporary bewilderment, mine and yours.
There’s a debate that arises every year—often intensified by champagne or eggnog. Is it “ring in the new year” or “bring in the new year”? Can you once and for all have a definitive answer to give that nut still wearing a Rudolph sweater? Perhaps, he’s thinking the same thing about you, the crazy lady in a little black dress who debates locution at holiday parties. (Or is that just me?)
Well, I hate to say it, but you’re both right. Though only different by a single letter, both expressions are recognized as standard. “Ringing in the new year” refers to the old tradition of celebrating beginnings and endings with bells—à la Alfred Lord Tennyson’s 1850 poem “Ring Out, Wild Bells.” On the other side of things, “bringing in the new year” references ushering in the new beginning. Thus, you can bring in the new year by ringing in the new year. How’s that for a fun answer to the debate?
Interesting side note: did you know New Year resolutions date back to ancient Babylon when people made good behavior promises to the gods? Any big promises you’re making this year?