Several months ago, I—middle school grammar nerd, lifelong
avid reader, editor for over a decade—failed a simple grammar quiz. And I don’t
care.
What really happened
Okay, I did not “fail”; instead, I got what you might call
an “interesting result.” And it wasn’t a grammar
quiz, exactly. It was more of an “Are you a grammar nazi?”* quiz—you know, one
of those things you stumble across on Facebook and click on because you think
it’ll be an excellent way to waste ten minutes of your life? Yeah, you should
just steer clear of those quizzes. Life is too short.
Anyway, the quiz comprised ten or so questions, each of
which presented a sentence containing a possible error. The quiz taker’s task
was to decide how to fix the sentence, or whether to fix it at all. The
possible errors were things like use of ain’t
in a sentence. They were things that, in the context of formal prose (e.g., for
your dissertation), would be problematic. But in another context (e.g., fiction
narrated by a character whose grammar is more, um, casual), they might be fine,
and the suggested fixes would be stilted and would suck the author’s voice
right out of the piece.
Ten out of ten, I chose “The sentence is fine as is.” The
final result said something like this: “Your thoughts about grammar are
basically, ‘Whatev’, dude.’”
“Whatev’”?
After a moment’s panic over the future of my editing career,
I took stock. I care about grammar. I love grammar. Diagramming sentences on
the chalkboard with my eighth-grade English teacher remains one of my fondest
memories. I impose strict rules of grammar and usage every day. My attitude
toward grammar is hardly “Whatev’.”
An inaccurate representation of an editor at work. |
See, the problem with the questions on that little quiz was,
there was no context. And editing without consideration of context amounts to
nothing more than a thoughtless application of rules that (in my humble
opinion) are not necessarily about “right” and “wrong” to begin with. Grammar
and usage guidelines exist to ease communication, to smooth the way between
writer and reader, to ensure that the meaning of any given sentence is clear. They’re
not commandments from on high, and the thoughtful editor’s job is not to impose
them arbitrarily. The thoughtful editor considers both the guidelines and the context.
My job is not to slash through sentences with a red pen, declaring with each
stroke, “The rules say it must be done this way!” My job is to make sure that the
author’s intent comes through clearly and the finished piece speaks in the
author’s voice. Sometimes I let “wrong” things be because, in their context,
they’re not wrong at all.
To the prescriptivists who get all stiff and sniffy over the
mere thought of doing such a thing… Hey, like, whatev’, dude.
*Not the actual quiz title. And no, I can’t remember the
actual quiz title. As I said, it’s been several months. The Internet has moved
on.
Photo credits: Stock images view Adobe Stock.
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