1. You will be understood. Do not underestimate the value of this, as I would easily suggest that one of life’s great frustrations is feeling as though nobody understands you. I don’t want to imply that the world is straightforward, or indeed fair, but I do want to propose the argument that if you make sense you should be understood. Fortunately, grammar and punctuation exist primarily to help you do this. For instance, teach those cheerless fifteen-year-olds the difference between your and you’re and they will soon lose their fringes of dark mystique, their painted eyes of misery. Why? Because they will no longer be misunderstood. They will lose their graffitied Elmo backpacks, along with the desire to etch crass phrases, like ‘Their is no better deal then death’, into their flesh. In any case, they will not write these phrases so offensively incorrectly, and in turn, they will not have reason to listen to their tears and music made by people with simple plans, because, as I said, they will no longer be misunderstood. The only potential challenge with this, of course, is that fifteen-year-olds may just be inherently moronic and emotionally basket-cased and won’t make sense with or without the intervention of a well-placed comma.
2. You can be clever and witty. Two worthwhile qualities in any accomplished young man or woman. So if you want to attract a worthy mate, take this sage advice. Once (but only once) you have mastered the application of correct grammar and punctuation, mess around with the rules. For creative, dramatic and humorous effect. For instance, use sentence fragments*. Although The Little, Brown Handbook claims these are a ‘serious error in writing’, it also acknowledges that sentence fragments can be used effectively in narrative and descriptive writing. Like this:
Bells. Ring away the sorrows.
Bring joy.
Love at times of noise.
When birds breed. Sing merrily.
Clearly, I cannot write under pressure. But you will note throughout my other lists that I enjoy fragmenting sentences and chopping them up for all they’re worth. This is mostly to do with me wanting to feel like I have pizzazz and know-how, because The Little, Brown Handbook says that ‘unless you are experienced and thoroughly secure in your own writing, you should avoid all fragments and concentrate on writing clear, well-formed sentences’. Which basically translates to: Tegan, master of fragments, you are an experienced, clever and witty writer, and thus an accomplished young lady, and Mr Darcy is waiting on a horse out the front with a sandwich for you. So, unless you are me, which you aren’t, don’t use sentence fragments, unless you know what you are doing, which is possible, because today anybody could write better than me and steal my sandwich and my Darcy right from between my teeth.
* A fun lesson brought to you by The Little, Brown Handbook (1983, 208):
A sentence fragment is part of a sentence that is set off as if it were a whole sentence by an initial capital letter and a final period or other end punctuation. Unlike a complete sentence, a sentence fragment lacks a subject or a verb or both, or it begins with a subordinating word. In either case, a sentence fragment fails to express a complete, independent thought:
FRAGMENT: The sign leaning against the wall. [Lacks a verb.]
FRAGMENT: Feeling sick. [Lacks both a subject and a verb.]
FRAGMENT: When it is time. [Contains a subject and a verb but
begins with a subordinating word.]
Any questions?
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