The Accidents of Style: Good Advice on How Not to Write Badly

The ability to use language is like the ability to drive a car. You can be an excellent driver without knowing the difference between a carburetor and a distributor, but you’d better be able to distinguish the brake from the gas pedal.

—Mark Davidson, Right, Wrong, and Risky

It seems astonishing that so much bad writing should find its way into print when so much good advice is to be had.

—Robertson Davies, The Enthusiasms of Robertson Davies

It is not, of course, any single violation of meaning or idiom, however frequent, that harms the common property of language. If frequent, the error becomes general—becomes the language—in the traditional way of change. What does harm, now and hereafter, is the loss of the feeling for words, the disappearance of any instinct and any preferences about their formation and combination.

—Jacques Barzun, A Word or Two Before You Go

Without minute neatness of execution the sublime cannot exist.

—William Blake, English poet and artist (1757–1827)

Abusus non tollit usum.

Misuse does not nullify proper use.

For Myrna,

con abrazos y besos

Contents

Introduction

A Note to the Reader

How Accident-Prone Are You?

The Accidents of Style

Are You Roadworthy?

Bibliography

Index

Introduction

In what some have called the greatest match in tennis history, Rafael Nadal defeated Roger Federer to win the 2008 Wimbledon championship. When Federer’s final shot failed to clear the net, the elated but exhausted Nadal collapsed on the court.

The conquering Spanish hero was lying prone on the grass, wrote Charles Bricker of the South Florida Sun Sentinel in a syndicated report that appeared—its glaring error intact—in scores of other newspapers across America, including my local fishwrap, The San Diego Union-Tribune, which ran a photo of Nadal lying flat on his back with his arms stretched out.

What was the error that slipped by all those yawning copyeditors? The misuse of prone to mean lying on one’s back. Prone means lying facedown, on one’s belly. The word supine means lying on one’s back. Rafael Nadal was lying supine on the grass of Wimbledon’s center court, but nobody seemed to know it.

You could call this confusion of prone with supine a slip, a blunder, or, if you want to be fancy, a solecism. If you want to be fancier still, you could use the precise rhetorical term for it: catachresis.¹ Whatever you want to call it, when a sentence hits an icy patch and skids off the road into a tree, I call it an accident of style.

Just like automobile accidents, accidents of style occur all over the English-speaking world, in print and on the Internet, thousands of times every day—not everyday, which is an adjective meaning daily or ordinary and always modifies a noun, as in everyday life or everyday problems. (Even the illustrious New York Times Magazine is guilty of this blunder. See Accident 1.)

Accidents of style happen when people are merrily writing along and, for one reason or another, fail to observe the rules of the road. Maybe they get distracted and make a wrong turn. Maybe they get too cavalier and lose control. Maybe they’ve forgotten what the operator’s manual says to do, or they never bothered to read it.

As the misuse of prone I cited illustrates, accidents of style are not restricted to writing that is hasty or unpolished. They occur in all avenues of communication, from the unsupervised byways of e-mail and blogs to the edited superhighways of newspapers, magazines, and books. Even in the most reputable publications, accidents of style are surprisingly common incidents—not incidences, an erroneous plural of incident and instance that repeatedly runs sentences off the road and into trees.

Accidents of style can happen anywhere, anytime (not any time). They can be minor, a fender bender that makes the reader wince for a moment but soldier on, and they can be fatal, a fiery wreck of mangled prose that destroys the writer’s credibility and kills the reader’s patience. Finally, accidents of style happen to everyone, to the amateur and professional alike—although, as with driving, the experienced writer will have fewer accidents while the apprentice writer will, sadly, have less.

So what can you do to insure yourself against these accidents of style and ensure that you are a wreckless—not a reckless—writer?

You can learn how not to write badly.

But, you may ask, shouldn’t I aspire to write well rather than worry about making mistakes? Shouldn’t I study good writing rather than bad? Of course you should, but if you don’t know enough about what constitutes bad writing, how can you fully appreciate, much less emulate, what is good?

Anyone who puts words together for any serious purpose wants to make a favorable impression. And the best way to make a favorable impression, in life as well as in writing, is to know first what makes an unfavorable one.

The road to writing well begins with learning how to recognize and correct faulty composition. This book shows you how to steer around the ruts and potholes in that road and safely navigate its hairpin turns. It’s a crash course in careful usage. Whether you write for work, for school, for pleasure, or for publication, The Accidents of Style will help you avoid hundreds of common word hazards and get the most mileage out of your efforts to drive home what you want to say.

A Note to the Reader

Most books of this kind are arranged either alphabetically, as dictionaries of usage, or in chapters covering various categories—word choice, grammar, spelling, punctuation, and so on. This book takes a different approach.

The Accidents of Style is a meandering road trip along the hazardous highways of English usage, a peripatetic trek for writers of all levels. Your affable tour bus driver (a seasoned cicerone) will cover some rugged linguistic terrain, discussing 350 perilous points of interest along the way. The itinerary proceeds in order of increasing complexity from the rudiments to the punctilios. We will begin with the everyday blunders that trip up inexperienced writers and end with the niceties that nettle the most practiced ones. In short, the road gets trickier to navigate as you go along.

You can use The Accidents of Style as a reference, looking up specific topics in the index. Or you can read it linearly as a primer designed to teach you, step by step, how to become a wreckless writer, one who is not prone to accidents of style. For your enjoyment, and perhaps also exasperation, I have included a pretest (How Accident-Prone Are You?) and a posttest (Are You Roadworthy?) so you can assess your progress toward wrecklessness, if you are so inclined.

I suggest taking the whole tour first and then using this book as you would a photo album, consulting particular snapshots whenever you need to refresh your memory. But you are the accidental tourist and I am merely the guide. Whether you open The Accidents of Style for an excursion or an expedition, a sojourn or an extended stay, I am confident that your journey will be enlightening.

How Accident-Prone Are You?

The following twenty sentences contain 101 common accidents of style. See how many of them you can find—and how many you miss. A score of 90 or better qualifies you as a wreckless writer. The number in parentheses after each sentence shows the number of errors in that sentence. Answers follow the test.

Because I can not afford a car, I ride two busses to work everyday. (3)

Due to the fact that our hot water heater is broken, we won’t be able to run the dishwasher or take showers for awhile. (3)

Up until now we didn’t know that this bacteria causes the illness, so if people don’t want to get sick they better wash there hands. (4)

There’s a couple things I always think to myself whenever I get bored of a job or disinterested in what I’m doing. (5)

Since every one of you are in favor of the proposal, we have a completely unanimous concensus of opinion. (4)

Noone informed us that the headaches would re-occur until he felt nauseous. (4)

After graduating Yale, a doctorate degree at Harvard became her next goal because she wanted to be an alumni of two of the best schools in the nation. (4)

He’s one of the only restauranteurs I know who meets that criteria because he has a variety of different skills. (5)

Just between you and I, its one of the things that has been bothering me alot, and I’m not sure how to diffuse the situation. (5)

Having said that, at this point in time we will utilize the staff we presently have and we don’t anticipate any major restructuring. (6)

If your looking for the penultimate summer beach novel, this thrilling story set in ancient Rome in 40 A.D. during the cruel reign of Caligula, offers non-stop entertainment that will keep you laying on that warm sand for hours. (6)

If I would’ve known they would play the exact same background music ad nauseum and make us eat stuff from the kid’s menu, I would’ve worked at the pizzaria instead. (5)

He found her infinitesimal energy totally enervating, working in close proximity to her had an incredible affect on him. (7)

Today, only one in forty-five Americans routinely bring a reusable bag to the grocery store, but some food industry experts predict that within five years between 20 to 25 percent of all grocery shoppers will emulate these eco-conscious trend-setters. (4)

We are a non-profit organization who is dedicated to servicing, as best as we can, indigent and homeless individuals who have fallen between the cracks of society. (6)

As the number of divorces continue to soar, it begs the question why so many young women like Sarah and myself are still so anxious to say ’til death do us part. (6)

When mother said, I don’t like that restaurant, my Aunt Dorothy was surprised and said, But they have a prix fixe menu that includes: soup, salad, entrée, and dessert—and it only costs twenty dollars. (4)

After the judges verdict, they were neither reticent to discuss the financial debacle at CoproCorp or loathe to accept responsibility for the havoc they’d wrought. (6)

At the risk of repeating myself again, the reason I don’t feel badly is because compared to most people I have less problems to keep me awake at night. (5)

What it is, basically, is an homage to naive youth, a heartwrenching story that hearkens back to that sweet, innocent, childish, moment in each and every one of our lives when we first fell utterly and unequivocably in love. (9)

Answers to How Accident-Prone Are You?

Three accidents: can not should be cannot; busses should be buses; everyday should be every day.

Three accidents: Due to the fact that is wordy; hot water heater should be water heater; for awhile should be for a while.

Four accidents: Up until now should be Until now; bacteria should be bacterium; they better should be they had better; there should be their.

Five accidents: There’s should be There are; a couple things should be a couple of things; think to myself should be think; bored of should be bored with; disinterested should be uninterested.

Four accidents: are should be is; completely unanimous is redundant; consensus is misspelled; consensus of opinion is redundant.

Four accidents: noone should be no one; reoccur is not hyphenated and it is misused for recur; nauseous should be nauseated.

Four accidents: After graduating Yale is a dangler; it should be graduating from Yale; doctorate degree should be doctoral degree or doctorate; alumni should be alumna or graduate.

Five accidents: one of the only should be one of the few; restaurateur is misspelled; meets should be meet; criteria should be criterion; variety of different is redundant.

Five accidents: I should be me; its should be it’s; has should be have; alot should be a lot; diffuse should be defuse.

Six accidents: Having said that is misused; at this point in time is redundant; utilize should be use; presently is misused; anticipate is misused; major is a vogue word.

Six accidents: your should be you’re; penultimate is misused; 40 A.D. should be A.D. 40; the comma after Caligula is incorrect without an additional comma after story to set off the phrase; nonstop is not hyphenated; laying should be lying.

Five accidents: would’ve known should be had known; exact same should be same or exactly the same; ad nauseam is misspelled; kid’s menu should be kids’ menu; pizzeria is misspelled.

Seven accidents: infinitesimal is misused; totally is adverbiage; enervating is misused; the comma should be a period; close proximity is redundant; incredible is a vogue word; affect should be effect.

Four accidents: Grammatically speaking, bring should be brings, but using brings here instead of takes is also a usage error; it should be between…and; emulate should be imitate, mimic, or follow.

Six accidents: nonprofit is not hyphenated; who should be that; servicing should be serving; as best as should be as best; individuals should be people or men and women; fallen between the cracks should be fallen through the cracks.

Six accidents: continue should be continues; begs the question is misused; myself should be me; anxious should be eager; ’til should be till; the period should be inside the closing quotation marks.

Four accidents: Mother should be capitalized and it should be my aunt Dorothy; there should not be a colon after includes; only belongs after costs, not before.

Six accidents: judges should be judge’s or judges’; verdict should be ruling or decision; reticent is misused for reluctant; it should be neither…nor, not or; loathe should be loath; havoc is wreaked, not wrought.

Five accidents: repeat again is redundant; the reason…is because is redundant; feel badly should be feel bad; compared to should be compared with; less should be fewer.

Nine accidents: What it is…is is an ungainly vogue phrase; basically is a vogue filler word; "an homage should be a homage"; heartwrenching should be heartrending; hearkens back should be harks back; there should not be a comma after childish; childish is misused for childlike; each and every is redundant; it should be unequivocally, not unequivocably.

The Accidents of Style

Accident 1

Every day or everyday?

The confusion between every day and everyday occurs multiple times every day; it’s an everyday accident. Even The New York Times Magazine is not immune to it: As a kid, I had a sailor shirt and the same old corduroy pants, and that’s what I wanted to wear everyday. Make that every day.

What’s the difference? Every day is a standalone phrase that can fit almost anywhere in a sentence, while everyday is an adjective meaning daily or ordinary that always modifies a noun, as in everyday life, everyday clothes, and everyday problems.

The trick to getting it right lies in determining whether the phrase can stand by itself ("I think of you every day") or whether it is tied to a following noun. If something can be used every day, it is suitable for everyday use. Some chores must be done every day, which makes them everyday chores. What’s the first line of the song Everyday Blues? It’s "Every day I have the blues," of course.

Amazing Gaffe

We see them everyday, animatedly carrying on conversations within visible companions.

—The San Diego Union-Tribune

Note how the typographical error within visible for with invisible turns a logical sentence into a ludicrous one, making it appear that someone is speaking from within the body of someone else. That’s certainly not something you’re likely to see every day (not everyday).

Accident 2

Reckless or wreckless?

The proper spelling is reckless, with no w.

Reckless means without caution, not caring about consequences, thoughtless, rash. Wreckless means you haven’t been in a wreck; you have a clean driving record. Wreckless writers obey the rules of the road. Reckless writers have accidents of style.

This rudimentary mistake is surprisingly common: "Moore is also charged with wreckless driving (WVNS-TV, West Virginia). A petition…to end the wreckless and inhumane killing of dogs by law enforcement" (Georgetown News Democrat, Ohio). "If we were wreckless, thoughtless, or disrespectful" (Glasgow Evening Times).

Accident 3

Misuse of can not for cannot

"Cannot should not appear as two words," decrees Garner’s Modern American Usage, and Mark Davidson, in Right, Wrong, and Risky, says, "Depending on which dictionary or usage book you consult, cannot is the only acceptable form, the preferred form, or the form that is by far the more common."

The style manual of The New York Times mysteriously does not have an entry for cannot. It should, because the first instance of can not that I found among more than thirteen thousand hits on Google News was from that newspaper. Other offending sources included Rolling Stone, Entertainment Weekly, FOXNews, The Boston Globe, and msnbc.com. Too bad the editors there failed to consult the style manual of The Associated Press, which has this terse comment on the matter: cannot.

So be sure to write cannot, not can not. The only exception to this dictum, says Garner, is rare: when can is part of another construction, such as not only…but also. Here’s an accident-free example from The Baltimore Sun: By improving the way we confirm cases of the H1N1 flu, we can not only reduce public panic but also minimize the number of cases and more efficiently use our limited health resources.

Accident 4

It’s a lot, not alot—and don’t ever write alittle

If alot were simply a typo, there wouldn’t be more than twenty-four hundred hits for it on Google News. Why do so many of us seem to think, in all earnestness, that a lot is one word instead of two? Clearly, a lot of people out there are typing alot on purpose, and some of them are even typing alittle too: "Alittle more than a quarter-century ago, the West Pasco Historical Society turned what is now a nearly 100-year-old building into its museum in Sims Park" (tampabay.com, the online edition of the St. Petersburg Times). It makes you wonder how long it will be before we start writing like the ancient Romans, withthewordsalltogetherlikethis. Until that woeful day, a lot is still two words in standard English, alot is an atrocious accident of style, and alittle is gibberish.

Accident 5

It’s no one, not noone

Most of us learned a long time ago that no one is not one word. But believe it or not, this basic boo-boo sometimes appears in edited, or at least professionally written, English. For example, an article on the website of a Philadelphia TV station reports that noone is going to be displaced, and the updated version of a breaking news brief at the website of a TV station in the San Francisco Bay Area informs us that police said noone was hurt.

This mistake is distressingly common in postings at newsblogs, where Mr. and Ms. Noone don’t seem to care about the poor impression they make when their hastily composed comments contain this and other fourth-grade gaffes.

Accident 6

Anyway and any way are okay, but not anyways

You may do something any way you want, meaning that you do it in any manner you see fit, or you may do it anyway, meaning that you do it regardless or nevertheless. But it’s incorrect to do something anyways or to begin a statement with anyways. Bloggers who write Anyways, as I was saying, ya just gotta love him anyways may have readers who love them anyway, but they’re not likely to get a lucrative offer from a New York publisher anytime soon.

Accident 7

Misuse of it’s and its

Of the distinction between it’s and its, Constance Hale in Sin and Syntax writes, Learn this or die. You may laugh, but she’s not kidding. Confusing it’s and its is a fatal accident of style, the grammatical equivalent of a head-on collision with a Hummer at sixty-five miles an hour.

Thankfully this accident occurs mostly in informal, unedited writing, whose readers may be more forgiving of such glaring mistakes. But it does occasionally happen in reputable media outlets, and when it does you can almost hear the earsplitting screech of brakes followed by the horrible crunch of metal: "Its [It’s] a tool that doesn’t cost billions of dollars" (Los Angeles Times); "Harrigan said he expects big car companies to bring battery tech in-house within the next few years, as GM wants to do for it’s [its] Chevy Volt" (BusinessWeek); "The 100-year-old theatre is a beauty too with it’s [its] elegant creamy gold colouring" (New Zealand Herald); "Its [It’s] a shame it has to be that way" (KOMU-TV, Missouri).

Yes, it’s a shame indeed when people write Its a shame. It’s with an apostrophe is a contraction and means it is (or it has)—that’s what it’s all about. Its without an apostrophe is the possessive form of it, and mastering its proper use is its own reward.

If you’re still feeling an itsy bit ditzy about this distinction, here’s a mnemonic sentence for you: If a Hummer is heading toward you, it’s wise not to get in its way.

Accident 8

Misspelling of accidentally, incidentally, and coincidentally

We rarely misspell fundamentally, departmentally, supplementally, monumentally, and temperamentally, so why do we so often misspell accidentally, incidentally, and coincidentally with -ly at the end instead of -ally? It could be the lure of false analogy with words like evidently, eminently, and intently, but more likely it’s a case of spelling following pronunciation.

Many speakers condense the -ally at the end of these words into a single syllable. Instead of saying uh-lee, as they would with fundamentally (fun-duh-MENT-uh-lee) or monumentally (mahn-yuh-MENT-uh-lee), they say lee: ak-suh-DENT-lee; in-suh-DENT-lee; koh-in-suh-DENT-lee.

There is nothing wrong with this condensed pronunciation; it’s an example of syncope (SING-kuh-pee), the loss or omission of a syllable in the middle of a word, as when we say chocolate, grocery, and family in two syllables instead of three. Just be careful not to let the syncopated pronunciation become the model for your spelling. Remember, there’s an ally (uh-lee) at the end of accidentally, incidentally, and coincidentally.

Accident 9

Gasses or gases?

From the Chicago Tribune: Research balloons chase volcanic gasses. From the online National Geographic News: A composite image of Messier 83 reveals the shining stars and red hydrogen gasses of the ‘Thousand-Ruby Galaxy.’ Did these estimable sources get the spelling of the plural of gas right or wrong?

Wrong. Though some dictionaries recognize gasses (dictionaries will list anything if people use it enough), Garner’s Modern American Usage, perhaps the most respected style guide in print, is unequivocal: "gases, not gasses, is the plural form of the noun gas." The variant with two s’s is probably a mistaken analogy with the plural of words that end in double s: pass(es), miss(es), mass(es), lass(es), etc.

Watch out for busses in Accident 25.

Accident 10

Confusion between your and you’re

It happens to all of us at some point. Even the least accident-prone among us will get blindsided by this blunder. You’re typing away furiously on your keyboard when suddenly you’re (your!) fingers are not quite sure what your (you’re!) doing and they rebel. And despite you’re (your!) best efforts, those mutinous fingers start typing your for you’re and you’re for your, and soon your at you’re wit’s end. And of course the stupid spell-checker is no help because it was created by a software programmer that Bill Gates managed to clone from a piece of bellybutton lint.

There are two ways to handle this crisis. You can dismiss it like the cavalier contributor to the Hartford Courant blogs who wrote, When your a ‘genious’ like me, you can spell it any way you want. Or you can stop texting and tweeting for ten seconds and wrap your recalcitrant thumbs around these two words: spelling matters.

Yes, believe it or not, people judge you by the words you misuse—even in the casual atmosphere of e-mail and the blogosphere. If you want to be taken seriously by anyone who takes verbal expression seriously—especially teachers, employers, clients, and customers—you must never let anything you write be seen by others until you have purged it of your missteps, particularly any confusion between your and you’re.

If you sometimes have trouble remembering that your is the possessive form of you and you’re is a contraction of you are, try to memorize this: It’s your life, and you’re the master of it. You’re in control, so do your best.

Accident 11

Confusion of there, their, and they’re

There is no there there, wrote Gertrude Stein in a rare moment of lucidity at the end of one of her notoriously incoherent sentences. At least she didn’t write There is no their they’re and cause a three-car accident of style.

There refers to place or position (over there); their refers to possession (their house); and they’re is a contraction of they are (they’re going over there to their house). Reckless writers, especially Internet journalists and bloggers, sometimes dreadfully confuse these three homophones: "People need to have there [their] own plan in place" (communitycommon.com); "Whether those young adults view what their [they’re] doing as ‘banking’ remains to be seen (Informationweek.com); Sci-fi fans will feel right at home with the classic plot involving man’s desire to exploit the aliens for they’re [their] own selfish goals" (Firefox News).

Accident 12

There’s does not mean there are

There’s is a contraction of the words there is (or there has). Although in casual speech it’s not unusual to hear people use there’s to mean there are—"Hey, there’s, like, only two doughnuts left in the box"—in any writing meant for public consumption this usage is a sign of slovenliness, or perhaps evidence of a perverse belief that, good grammar be damned, we should write in the same lazy way we talk.

"There’s many good things about No Child Left Behind," writes a candidate for city council in an interview at DesMoinesRegister.com. "There’s a few local places they still want to play," writes Andrew Cothern in the online edition of the Richmond Times-Dispatch. "There’s only about three mentions of me from a total of over a million results," writes Gregory Bergman in his book BizzWords. And a pullout in an op-ed piece in The New York