Titled vs. Entitled

“Titled” means that something has received a title, as in The movie was titled, Grammar Gurus Gone Wild.

“Entitled” means that someone has rights to something, as in She felt entitled to special treatment ever since she won an Oscar for Grammar Gurus Gone Wild.

What Are We Supposed to Do?

Don’t use “suppose to” or “use to” when you mean “supposed to” or “used to.”

I Wonder How to Punctuate That

Incorrect: I wondered how he knew that?
Correct: I wondered how he knew that.

Incorrect: I asked her if she knew that?
Correct: I asked her if she knew that.
 
Don’t Use Quotes Indiscriminately

We’ve all seen signs like these:

Today only, “free” samples!
See these “classic” cars!
Employees must “wash their hands” before exiting the restroom.

Or phrases…
It’s not really my “cup of tea.”
If you’re not careful, you could end up with the “swine flu.”

The moral of this story: Don’t use quotation marks unnecessarily or for special emphasis.

And Finally…What Is an Aphorism?

An aphorism is a short, to-the-point sentence that sums up a clever observation or general truth:

The trouble with bucket seats is that not everyone has the same size bucket.

Writers are great. They taste like chicken.

With great power comes great responsibility. With mediocre power comes a 1964 Datsun pickup truck and a power suit from Sears.

When life gives you lemons, try making a lemon chiffon cake with extra lemon.

And finally, from Mark Twain:

Suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. But I repeat myself.

These two troublesome words are modals, which combine with main verbs to suggest conditions like need, ability, probability, likelihood, and permission. Other modals include can, could, should, would, and must. May and might are troublesome because there is such a subtle difference between the two.

In general, may is considered to be present tense while might is the past.

I may go to that concert.
I might have gone to that concert if it had been less expensive.

Might is also considered more tentative or less likely to happen than may.

May I have that book?
If I promise to return it promptly, might I have that book? (Tentative.)
I might stick my hand in that wasp’s nest if I decide it is a good idea. (But probably not.)

Sometimes may is used regarding having permission.

I may be able to use the corporate library.

This implies that you’re hoping for permission. However, if you’re unsure whether or not you’ll have time to use the library, use might.

When it comes to expressing possibility, may and might can be interchangeable.

They may arrive before midnight.
They might arrive before midnight.
They might have already arrived.

It gets more confusing when you’re trying to determine the likelihood of something happening.

I might write a best seller someday, but I may get a poem published next week.

The previous sentence suggests that publishing a poem is more likely than writing a best seller. If the outcome is likely, use may; use might when the outcome is not certain.

One more example to help confuse, er, clarify things further:

A ferry crashes in the Seattle harbor. We don’t know how bad things are yet, but the captain may have been injured. A few hours later we find out that the captain is fine. He’s lucky. He might have been seriously injured. If not for the captain’s skill and experience, this might have been quite the disaster.

Psychologists have long been aware of how the words we speak, read, write, and encounter can have a powerful impact on our lives. In her book Every Word Has Power, Yvonne Oswald explores the idea that changing the words you use can change your life. More information is available at http://yvonneoswald.com.

Writers have their own special challenges with words, given that “rejection” makes up a big part of a successful writing career. For that reason we excerpted a few words on Oswald’s list that writers should either avoid or use frequently. Take a look at the lists, and consider how often you use positive and negative language to describe your writing. The results might surprise you!

High-Energy Words
Achieve, Believe, Choose/Choice, Dream, Easy, Free, Future, Harmony, Knowledge, New, Please, Positive, Profit, Success, Sweet, Top, Unique, Value

Low-Energy Words
Afraid, Anxiety, Bad, Bottom, Broke, Cheap, Control, Criticize, Difficult, Doubt, Envy, Failure, Fear, Hate, Idiot, Lazy, Poor, Shame, Small, Sorrow, Trying, Weak, Worry, Worse 

The English language has a nice, neat system of verb tenses to choose from:

Nearly every piece of fiction will require a variety of verb tenses to show the reader the sequence of events throughout the story. A letter to the editor will most likely be written in the present tense, and a nostalgic piece about your childhood will be primarily written in the past tense. We’ll give a quick overview of the proper usage of all the verb tenses, but first, here’s a question from one Newsflash reader:

"Is there a preferred tense choice for fiction writers, or does one’s choice of verb tense brand one as a “hack” or an amateur?"

Even though tenses fit neatly into a table, making the proper choices isn’t so cut-and-dried. There are various shades of difference between, say, the future and the future perfect, and authors must determine what accurately describes the sequence of events they are trying to convey. Verb tense puts the reader in the proper time frame, and messing around with it can be incredibly distracting, especially if you’re inconsistent. Is this happening now? Is this a flashback? Editors do not care what tenses are used as long as they are used correctly.

For instance, a big, red amateur flag pops up if verb tense is flat-out wrong.

I wanted to find an open drugstore, and I walk into the first one I see.

Obviously, there are two tenses (past and present) where there should be one, and this is jarring to the reader. Pick one tense and stick to it.

A second problem involves using the passive voice. Both of the following sentences are technically correct, but sentence #2 uses an active voice to drive the action…
 
The car was driven quickly down the street. (Who drove the car?) 

Melissa drove the car quickly down the street. (Ah, much better.)

Editors are turned off by the excessive use of the passive voice, and passive writing is often wordy—this can quickly brand you as an amateur. As far as proper usage of verb tenses in general, here’s a quick grammatical overview: Use the present for discussing general knowledge or truth, arguments or ideas, or works of literature.

Dogs prefer an owner with a calm, steady nature. 

Use the past for events that have already happened in the past and are now finished.

In 1966 her parents moved to the Northeast.

Use the present perfect for events that happened in the indefinite past. 

He has argued that carbohydrates are not the enemy they are portrayed to be.

Use the past perfect with the simple past to describe an event that happened before another event.

The storefront had already been destroyed when the police arrived.

Use the progressive form to emphasize action that is happening at that moment.

I am working as fast as I can.

Use the future perfect for actions that will be completed at some time in the future, with one event occurring before another.

When the bell rings I will have been writing for over half an hour.

As with so many aspects of writing, there is no rule that says if you want to get published, use this (fill in the blank) tense. Some writers are able to write fiction entirely in the present tense (something that requires a great deal of skill and practice), but there is nothing amateur about choosing to write in the past tense—the most common and widely accepted tense for fiction. Again, every piece of fiction is likely to contain multiple forms of verb tenses, and the trick is to use them properly and consistently.

Since and because. These are two little conjunctions that cause problems for some folks and represent yet another gray area in terms of accepted usage. Merriam-Webster lists because as a synonym for since and vice versa, but there are subtle differences.

Since is used in a temporal sense.

Since the weather changed, my allergies have improved. 

An easy way to test if since is appropriate is to substitute “from the time when.”

Since she was a toddler, music has been an important part of Cheryl’s life.

We have visited nearly every hobby shop in San Francisco since we moved to California.

When talking about cause and effect, use because. This leaves very little room for confusion, as the word itself spells out its purpose.               

Because of the new medication, my allergies have improved.

Also correct: Since I discovered this new medication, my allergies have improved.

Because we were missing so many ingredients, we had to find a new recipe.

Unfortunately, this does not clear things up completely.

According to more than one dictionary, since can also be used to mean because:

Since he emphasized how important it was, I ran right out and mailed it.

(I mailed something because it was important.)

Some folks insist that this is incorrect; and while it does lend itself to confusion (because would have made it more clear that this is a cause-and-effect situation), it is not necessarily incorrect. Some style guides insist on sticking to since for time-related usage, which helpfully removes any doubt. In most areas of creative writing, though, people have been happily using this construction for years and are unlikely to stop just because they’re told it’s wrong.

Mantel or Mantle?

Use “mantel” when referring to the shelf above a fireplace. Use “mantle” to refer to a cloak or loose garment worn over other clothes. “Mantle” can also be used as a verb, as in to cover with (or as if with) a mantle.

Lose or Loose?

Use “lose” as a verb. You can lose a bet, lose the game, or lose your mind, but you can’t “loose” any of your faculties or possessions. “Loose” can be used as a verb too, as in “Use the hook to loosen the knot,” but, for the most part, use “loose” as an adjective. You can have a loose tooth, a loose screw, and loose change; you can have loose pants and loose morals, but don’t worry, it won’t make you a “looser.” 

For example…i.e. or e.g.?

The abbreviation e.g. stands for the Latin exempli gratia, which means “for example.” It must be followed by one or more examples. However, using e.g. does not mean that the list is a complete one.

We have several breeds of puppies available; e.g., Hounds, Labs, and Poodles, and there are several mixed breeds as well.

The abbreviation i.e. stands for the Latin id est, meaning “that is.” It should be followed by an explanation rather than a list of examples.

Don’t forget to attend the greatest match of all times. Come support the pride of Utah; i.e., the Howlin’ Huskies, on Saturday afternoon.

• Don’t forget to use a period after each letter; both are abbreviations.

• Use a comma after i.e. or e.g.

• You may use either abbreviation at the beginning of a sentence or in a parenthetical statement.

• If either abbreviation is used within the body of the sentence, use a semicolon before the expression and a comma afterward.

Hopefully (adverb)
 
 1) in a hopeful manner
 2) it is hoped; I hope; we hope
 
Hopefully, this drought will end soon.
 
According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary:
 
In the 1960s the second usage of hopefully underwent a surge in popularity and was then followed by a flood of criticism. But the word in question belongs to a class of adverbs called “disjuncts,” which serve as a means by which the author or speaker can comment directly to the reader—usually on the content of the sentence to which they are attached. Many other adverbs are used in a similar fashion, such as frankly, luckily, unfortunately, but “are so ordinary as to excite no comment or interest whatsoever.” The second usage of hopefully is considered to be standard.

The use of “only.”

Here is another bone of contention among writers. The correct placement of “only” in a sentence depends largely on what part of the sentence is to be stressed.

According to Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary:

“After 200 years of preachment the following observations may be made: the position of only in standard spoken English is not fixed, since ambiguity is avoided through sentence stress; in casual prose that keeps close to the rhythms of speech only is often placed where it would be in speech; and in edited and more formal prose, only tends to be placed immediately before the word or words it modifies.”

Examples:

Those kids respond to only one teacher; the rest seem to have little influence.
Only two kids responded to the invitation.

One Newsflash reader asked about a couple of other gray areas:

Is it bite-size or bite-sized? Farmer’s market, farmers market, or farmers’ market?

Again, according to Merriam-Webster, it is correct to use either “size.” The more common usage listed is “bite-size” or “king-size,” but under variant usage “bite-sized” and “king-sized” are listed.

The same goes for those farmers’/farmers/farmer’s markets. As our reader noted, “Sheesh! How many ways can you find this expressed on any given day?”

It would make more sense to use “farmers’ market,” as it indicates a market where there is usually more than one farmer selling their wares, but a Google search yields no consistent usage or hard-and-fast rule.

Oh, and one more thing:

Use “bated” breath, not “baited” breath. The word “bated” is the abbreviated form of “abated,” which means to subside or put an end to.

Than versus Then

"Than" is a conjunction and is used in making comparisons:

I would rather eat a banana than a kiwi.

"Then" is an adverb relating to time:

We'll catch the train, then meet at the library downtown.

Let's versus Lets

"Let's" is a contraction for "let us," and "lets" is a verb, meaning to allow or permit:

Let's hope he lets us bring our notes.

If versus Whether

"If" refers to one possibility; "whether" refers to more than one possibility.

I don't know if he wants to go with us. He'll have to decide whether he wants to get a ride or meet there later.

Infer versus Imply

"Infer" means to draw a conclusion.

The readers inferred that the article was meant to draw attention to the refugees' plight.

"Imply" means to suggest or hint.

The article implied that aloe vera can decrease scarring due to burns.

Compared To versus Compared With

"Compared to" is used when pointing out similarities:

My tuna casserole was compared to a science fair experiment gone bad.

"Compared with" is used to point out differences:

My casserole was delicious compared with the slop the others brought.

The trouble with clichés is that they're so spot-on. They can describe exactly what you're trying to say in a way that everyone can understand. So, for instance, if his hands are softer than a baby's bottom, most people can relate—there aren't many things softer in this world. When you're talking to your friend about your teenager, the phrase "every parent's worst nightmare" may pop out of your mouth effortlessly. It's a phrase that sums up exactly how you are feeling.

People speak quickly and pepper their everyday speech with clichéd phrases that were, at one time, original and fresh but have been used for so long that their shiny surfaces have become dull. This is perfectly acceptable. But there are no excuses to let clichés dull your writing. In speech, we would feel awkward taking the time to come up with an original metaphor for how we are feeling. But no such excuse exists for the writer, who presumably has the time to mull over word choices and should not rely on the old "tried and true" phrases that are, in actuality, old and tired.

Clichés are analogies that have been overused. They are easy to identify—ask anyone to fill in the blanks below, and you'll find no hesitation in their answers:

He was cool as a _________.

She was as pretty as a ___________.

The soldier was gone but not __________.

But sometimes a clichéd phrase is so ingrained in our everyday speech that it's hard to spot. "Hushed courtroom," "laid to rest," and "emotional roller coaster" are all clichés that slip easily into our conversations and sometimes into our writing, so when editing your creative writing, keep an eye out for them. Better yet, ask someone else to review your work.

A manuscript peppered with clichés proclaims, "I am the product of a lazy thinker! I am uninspired and unoriginal!" At least that's how an editor is going to perceive it, and that's not what you want. Add some flavor to your prose and come up with some original turns of phrase. Do you have a dark basement in your haunted house? As tempting as it is to use black as night, sin, coal, pitch, or tar, come up with something else to convey the depths of the basement's darkness—something you don't hear or read every day—and impress your editor. Your readers will appreciate the excitement of a fresher phrase as well.

In creative writing the rule is: there are no hard and fast rules. And this also applies to the use of clichés. The general consensus is to avoid using them at all, but they can be effectively used in characterization. If, for example, you have a character who is shallow and unimaginative, let him speak in clichés. This will help the reader identify your character as someone with an uninspired personality. Often characters employ clichés in their speech because, well, clichés are handy and realistic speech is full of them. Your hillbilly may be full of homespun metaphors, and this can work if they're confined to his dialogue.

Most clichés come in the form of metaphors (hotter than blazes, slippery as an eel), but they can also be forms of greeting ("how's it going") or clichéd ideas, such as Santa's twinkling eyes or stomachs tied up in knots. And they can also be plotlines. In horror movies we all know that the couple who slips off to be alone will be the first to be murdered. And in the action flick, the bad guys fire off round after round, missing everyone, but the hero cop fires one shot and instantly kills the leader of the gang. In romance films or books, if the leading lady has an instant and strong dislike for the handsome stranger, they will inevitably end up in a passionate relationship.

If elements of your plot are vaguely familiar, or your beta reader easily predicts what will happen next, you may have a cliché on your hands. Watch for the tired and predictable, and make changes to keep things interesting. And go over your writing with a fine-tooth comb to uncover any clichés that have crept in. They're sneaky, little buggers.

What the heck is a sniglet? According to comedian Rich Hall, who coined the phrase in the 1980s HBO series, Not Necessarily the News, a sniglet is "any word that doesn't appear in the dictionary, but should." Obviously, this is not a new concept. People have been making up their own words since the days of woolly mammoths. But Mr. Hall is the man who came up with a name for these neologisms, and that seems to be a specialty of his. His keen insight into American culture, a fascination with the English language, and a dry wit led him to publish five collections of sniglets—his own, as well as submissions from his fans.

So, for instance, if you're looking for a term to describe the affliction of dialing a phone number and forgetting who you were calling just as they answer, Hall has created a word especially for you: phonesia. He also came up with the very useful "carperpetuation," which finally gives us a way to describe the act of running the vacuum over a string or piece of lint dozens of times, reaching over to pick it up, examining it, and then putting it back down to give the vacuum one last chance. It's about time someone came up with a term for that scenario.

Even Oprah Winfrey's gotten into the act with slumpadinka (a woman who dresses like she's given up on herself, and it shows). So it's only logical that, as writers, we should have our own set of sniglets. For example:                                                           

Barfiage—the act of effortlessly "spewing" the perfect poem, short story, or chapter in one writing session. (The act of effortlessly spewing a fabulous poem, short story, or chapter that needs absolutely no revision is called a "miracle.")

Blockberry—the slightly scary assistant who stands between you and your editor/agent every time you call

Criticut—a member of a writers' group who scribbles a single derogatory word across the front page of your work (DRIVEL!) but offers no other comment whatsoever

Chickencrit—a member of a writers' group who offers plenty of criticism and advice, yet never, ever offers up their own work for scrutiny

Embarrasqueak—the excited noise one makes when the answer to a perplexing plot question (for example) strikes at an inappropriate time, such as in the middle of a staff meeting or at a funeral for the kids' hamster

Embarrastare—the blank stare on a writer's face when lost in thought, again at inopportune and embarrassing moments

Frusta-freeze—an inexplicably frozen computer screen (and the inexplicable error message that follows)

Keybored—the act of aimlessly surfing the Web when you should be working

Queternity—the amount of time that elapses between sending out a query and hearing something back

Repeat-a-cut—a paper cut that keeps getting reopened

Wikiholica—person with a tragic addiction to Wikipedia

Zoomilocation—A future Olympic event, zoomilocation describes the act of zipping around your office on a chair with wheels

And there's an actual term that describes that elusive word just on the tip of your tongue—you know, the word so elusive that nothing remotely similar comes to mind, so even your thesaurus can't help you?

And, finally, one more. Rich Hall is to thank for this one: Sarchasm—the gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it. (May we suggest sarcastrophe, as in "The humor of this piece fell flat, which was an unfortunate sarcastrophe"?)

Writers worldwide should be quite happy with this treasure trove of new material. No longer will we have to rack our brains for just the right phrase to describe two people wrestling for the same armrest at the movie theater (elbonics), or that smudgy, slimy nose print dogs leave on the windows (pupkus). Thank you, Rich Hall. Thank you for enriching our vocabulary and expanding our repertoire of yet more words to learn how to spell.

REMEMBER TO CHECK OUT OUR LIST OF WRITING CONTESTS and ANTHOLOGIES! You won’t find a better list anywhere (AND IT’S FREE!) of upcoming anthologies, special-themed journals, and contests. Find it by visiting:
http://www.writersreliefblog.com/post/Anthologies-Contests.aspx

Ask any seasoned writer this question, and they'll most likely tell you to ban the word "utilize" from the English language and never speak of it again.

There are many folks who consider "utilize" to be a more sophisticated, intellectual form of the verb "to use," as in "Please be so kind as to utilize the facilities on the first floor with the rest of the riffraff." You're also likely to see it used in military-speak, as in "A Claymore mine was utilized to neutralize the threat." Or in police reports: "The individual utilized a .357 Magnum."

Since there is a slight and subtle distinction between the two verbs, "utilize" is more than just an affectation—it's also usually used incorrectly. Confusing? Yes. Even the dictionaries show the distinction yet imply that both words are interchangeable. Here are the actual definitions, if you're interested.

According to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, "use" implies "availing oneself of something as a means or instrument to an end," as in willing to use any means to achieve her goal.

"Utilize" may suggest "the discovery of a new, profitable, or practical use for something," as in an old tire utilized as a swing.

Generally, though, the distinction is not widely noted. If in doubt, ditch the "utilize," do the world a favor, and use use.

Toward or Towards?

Simply put, Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary states that "toward" and "towards" are both correct and interchangeable, although it lists "towards" as a variant spelling. Mostly likely, this is because "towards" is more often seen in British English spelling. In the United States we gravitate toward spelling shortcuts and usually lop off the "s" on words like towards, backwards, and forwards.

Note: In British English, when backward is used as an adjective, it is normally spelled without the s-ending, as in "Please excuse our cousin's backward manners. He doesn't get out much."

Regarding Anyways...

Most people agree that this is a word better spelled without the "s." It's a word that has its place in character dialogue—picture a gum-chewing teenage girl or perhaps a garage mechanic—but it's probably best to leave anyways out of all other prose. It makes a good number of readers cringe.

Personal Pronouns: We and Us

We is a personal pronoun in the subjective (subject) case.

The kids and I made a cake.
We made a cake.

Us is a personal pronoun in the objective (object) case.

The kids baked a cake for Sam and me.
The kids baked a cake for us.

Tricky Words du Jour:

Auger vs Augur
Auger (n) is a tool used for boring holes.
Augur (n) is someone who foretells the future or (v) to foretell, especially from omens.

Grizzly vs Grisly
Grizzly (n) is a bear, while grisly (adj) means gruesome.

Past vs Passed
Past means (adj) ago, (n) time gone by, or (adv) beyond.
Passed is the past tense of the verb "to pass."

Advent vs. In The Event

Advent: coming into being or use, as in "the advent of winter" or "the advent of electricity"

In the event: if, as in "In the event that Grandma shows up, we should have some coffee available."

Uppermost vs. Uttermost

Uppermost: adverb or adjective meaning in or into the highest or most prominent position, as in "the uppermost layer" or "her illness was uppermost in their minds"

Uttermost (or Utmost): adjective meaning situated at the farthest or most distant point, as in "the utmost peak of the mountain" or of the highest degree, quantity, number, or amount, as in "a matter of utmost concern"

When editing your writing, keep a sharp eye out for these tricky little errors that seem to crop up in nearly everyone’s work at some point.

Its or It’s?

It’s is a contraction of it and is.

I’m not sure if it’s going to be a success.

Its is possessive and shows ownership.

When bathing a dog, avoid getting water in its face until the end of the bath.

Remember, "it’s" never means anything else but "it is" or "it has."

For "its," try substituting "his"— if it doesn’t make sense, it should be "it’s."

That or Which?

Compare the following sentences:

We need to get the lawnmower that is in the garage.

We need the lawnmower, which is in the garage.

Here’s the rule: Use which for a nonrestrictive clause and that for a restrictive one.

For sentence #1, we are looking for the lawnmower that is in the garage, not the lawnmower in the garden shed or at the neighbor’s. Our choice is restricted to the lawnmower in the garage. The "that" clause is essential to the meaning of the sentence.

In sentence #2, we need the lawnmower, and by the way, it’s located in the garage. The "which" clause is much like an aside—it adds more information but is not essential to the meaning of the sentence.

Another rule: Always use a comma to set off a nonrestrictive clause (which), and don’t use a comma if the clause is restrictive (that).

A few more examples:

He served her a slice a pizza, which she quickly devoured.

She chose the slice of pizza that had pepperoni.

I bought my music from Best Buy, which is my favorite CD retailer.

The music that I download legally is from Emusic.com.

The car that is covered in racing stripes has just come in first.

The car, which is covered in racing stripes, has just come in first.

A linguistics professor was lecturing to his English class one day. "In English," he said, "a double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative."

A voice from the back of the room piped up, "Yeah, right."

Although they have a somewhat humorous name, dangling modifiers—words or phrases that modify a word not clearly stated in the sentence—cause serious writing problems. Consider the following sentence:

Example 1: Standing on the roof, the view of the city skyline was amazing.

Something seems funny about the wording of this sentence, doesn’t it? Take a look at the phrase that begins the sentence—Standing on the roof. Whenever we begin a sentence with a phrase such as this, we must remember that the phrase modifies (describes) the first noun or pronoun immediately following it. In this case, the noun is view. So was the view standing on the roof? That’s what it sounds like from the way the sentence is written. Although humorous, this sentence is obviously grammatically incorrect.

So how can we correct this problem? We just need to make sure that each time we begin a sentence with a descriptive phrase, the word immediately following that phrase is the word being described. Consider the following sentence:

Example 2: Standing on the roof, we thought the view of the city skyline was amazing.

Now the sentence is correct—the pronoun immediately following the phrase is we, and to say that we are standing on the roof makes perfect sense.

Let’s look more closely at what dangling modifiers are and how to avoid them. We’ll start with some definitions:

Modifier: a word or phrase that describes (gives more information about) another word. Again, in the second example above, the phrase Standing on the roof describes we.

Dangling modifiers occur most frequently in sentences that begin with participles or participial phrases.

Participles: Words that look like verbs but function as adjectives; participles, which, like all adjectives, describe nouns and pronouns, most often end in -ing or -ed.

Example: The worried mother rushed to the school. Here, worried is a participle describing the noun mother.

Example: Amanda tried to quiet her racing heart. Here, racing is a participle describing the noun heart.

Participial Phrase: A group of words that begins with a participle and modifies a noun or a pronoun.

Example: Running as quickly as he could, Bill won the race. Here, Running as quickly as he could is a participial phrase describing the noun Bill.

Example: Concerned about the rising cost of a college education, Amber and Paul opened a college savings account for their newborn daughter. Here, Concerned about the rising cost of a college education is a participial phrase describing Amber and Paul. Also, rising is a participle describing cost.

Now that we can recognize participles and participial phrases and understand how they modify nouns and pronouns, let’s look at another example of what happens when they become dangling modifiers.

Example: Arriving late for class, a written excuse was needed.

Again, remember that the participial phrase at the beginning of the sentence modifies the noun or pronoun immediately following it. In this sentence, Arriving late for class describes a written excuse, but does that make sense? Is it the excuse that arrived late? Of course not. This is a dangling modifier, and we need to rewrite the sentence in order to eliminate it. There are several ways to do this:

1. Name the logical performer of the action as the subject of the main clause:

Arriving late for class, Bob needed a written excuse. (Now it’s clear that Bob, rather than the excuse, was the one who was late for class.)

2. Change the phrase that dangles into a complete clause by naming the performer of the action within that clause:

Because Bob arrived late for class, a written excuse was needed.

3. Combine the phrase and the main clause into one clause:

Bob needed a written excuse because he arrived late for class.

Dangling modifiers are easy to avoid if we just keep one important point in mind: If the sentence begins with a descriptive word or phrase, particularly a participle or participial phrase, always check to see if the noun or pronoun immediately following the comma is the word that the phrase logically describes. If it is, then the sentence is fine. If it’s not, then you need to employ one of the revision tactics above in order to correct the problem.

Here’s to not leaving our readers hanging!

It's (pardon the pun) relatively simple to figure out the proper usages of the relative pronouns who and whom: If the pronoun should be subjective, use who or whoever; when it should be in the objective case, use whom or whomever.

The subjective case:
Who is calling?
Who do you think will win the election?
I don't know who is at the door.

The objective case:
To whom did you address the letter?
Whom do you think they'll nominate?
We chose candidates whom we hoped the public would trust.

If it's still unclear, try substituting he or him (or, to avoid gender bias, she or her):
He is calling.
Do you think he will win the election?
He is at the door.
Did you address the letter to her?
Do you think they'll nominate her?
We hope the public will trust her.

The same strategy works for whoever versus whomever:
Whoever is responsible for letting the cat out should go find her. (He is responsible.)
You are free to go to the movies with whomever you want. (Go to the movies with her.)

Things get a little more tricky when who or whom are part of longer clauses that, themselves, function as subjects or objects:
We are looking for donations from whoever wishes to contribute.

In this sentence, "whoever" is the subject of the clause "whoever wishes to contribute," and the entire clause is the object of the preposition "from," not just the pronoun. Confusing? Use our little trick, which yields, He wishes to contribute.

Another tricky one: I told him that I figured out who would be the best person to ask.

"Who" is the subject of the clause "who would be the best person to ask." Employing our strategy, replace who with she:
Right: I told him that I figured out she would be the best person to ask.
Wrong: I told him that I figured out her would be the best person to ask.

Note: Everyday speech can be informal, as is dialogue and informal writing, and who is often used when whom is actually correct. Whether or not you choose the objective form or the subjective form is up to you and depends on the formality of your writing. The conclusion from experts is this: In informal speech and writing, we can break the rules. In formal writing, we cannot.

altogether (adv): entirely, completely
all together (as a phrase): in a group

amount (n): used for a quantity that can't be counted
number (n): used for things that can be counted

bore/bored (v): to dig or drill
bear/bore (v): to carry

breach (n, v): a break / to break
breech (n): the rear or bottom

clench (v): to hold or clutch, like teeth or a fist
clinch (v): to settle decisively, as in clinching a deal, or to tightly hug, like with boxing

demur (n, v): a protest / to protest
demure (adj): to be coy, modest

discreet (adj): judicious, modest
discrete (adj): separate, distinct

enervate (adj, trans. v): lazy, lacking physical energy
energize (v): to be energetic

gibe (n, v): to tease/a derisive remark
jibe (v): to agree

inter (v): to bury
intern (v): to jail

lead (v): present tense, to guide the way
led (v): past tense

(Don’t laugh; many, many writers use “lead” for the past tense because it sounds like the other “lead,” the metal.)

mantel (n): a shelf
mantle (n): a cloak, a cover

plead (v): present tense, to beg
pleaded (or pled) (v): past tense (in the similar vein to lead/led).

principal (adj, n): referring to person or something which is of high rank
principle (n): related to a law or doctrine

raise (v): to lift something (transitive: requires a direct object, such as He raised the blanket from the floor.)
rise (v): to put oneself in an upright position (intransitive: no direct object needed, such as He rises in the morning at six o’clock.)

rational (adj): reasonable or logical
rationale (n): underlying reason

shined (v): past tense, to make something brighter, like shoes or a bald head.
shone (v): past tense of all other uses of “shine” (such as, The moonlight shone over our nighttime walk last night.)

Other words you might find confusing:

fitful: full of fits and starts. It does not mean restful or “fit” as in healthy or good. So if you’re editing or proofreading, watch for "a fitful sleep"—it is often the opposite of what the author means.

reticent: silent, tacit, not spoken. It has nothing to do with being reluctant.

tortuous: twisted, winding. Something tortuous MIGHT also be torturous (notice the extra “r”), but only if the torture relates to how winding or twisted the torture is, literally or figuratively.

viscous (vis-kus): how thick, or not, a liquid is; vicious is, well, vicious (dangerously aggressive).

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