Grammar as Our Guide
Bear with me, as we get into Chapter Two of Steering the Craft (Le Guin), because it’s focused on punctuation and grammar. I know. No one’s favorite topic.
It’s got to be talked about, though. You gotta get a grasp on the rules not because there’s one “right” way to write but because how you handle the technical aspects of your writing can make the difference between whether all that you’re trying to convey through your story can be coherently received or not. Doing what you can to set yourself up to be understood is important.
Le Guin gives a very brief look at how grammar’s been taught through history, noting that it’s become de-emphasized in a large way. For instance, elementary school (typically kindergarten through fifth grade) used to be called grammar school. Curriculum has shifted and evolved in many ways over time, and, at the time of this updated publication in 2015, Le Guin felt that failing to do a more thorough job of teaching grammar meant setting people up to not have the proper tools in communication. She likens it to trying to fix the kitchen sink without tools or a violinist trying to make music without any practice playing the violin. This is all rooted in the fact that writing isn’t just emotional expressions or fun plots but craft (13-14).
She goes on to talk about how Socrates believed “the misuse of language induces evil in the soul” and the moral take on writing “right.” I think that’s a pretty strong take from Socrates, but that also makes sense to be coming from him, a natural contrarian in his time who said lots of things that were considered hot takes (and that eventually contributed to his demise).
What Le Guin wants to point out, though, is that “correctness isn’t a moral issue but a social and political one, often a definition of social class” (14). The reason we must consider “correctness” is because “usage [of language], particularly in writing, is a social matter, a general social agreement about how we make ourselves understood. Incoherent syntax, mistaken words, misplaced punctuation, all cripple meaning” (16).
And that’s what we’re doing as writers, right? We’re creating characters, events, and themes that we want readers to find the meaning in and buy into so they’re invested in our story. There’s no getting around it. You gotta learn it, even if it’s so you can know it and know how to apply artistic license to it. Because, as Le Guin says, “to break a rule you have to know the rule. A blunder is not a revolution” (16).
If you feel your grasp on grammar isn’t as sufficient as you want it or need it to be, she offers some suggestions to check out either Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style, the current The Chicago Manual of Style, or The Well-Tempered Sentence: A Punctuation Handbook for the Innocent, the Eager, and the Doomed by Karen Elizabeth Gordon. I wish I had recommendations to add, but I must give credit where credit is due and shout-out my English teacher from freshman year of high school. Nancy, you were notorious for being hard on everyone to learn their grammar, and you know what? I actually didn’t mind that, and I’m grateful to have spent time in your class. My writing has been better for it.
Le Guin makes the bold claim that, “if you aren’t interested in punctuation, or are afraid of it, you’re missing out on some of the most beautiful, elegant tools a writer has to work with” (11). Is that you? Have you found grammar and its many rules intimidating? Or tedious? Do you use a digital, automatic device to catch any errors because that’s “good enough” for you? Le Guin absolutely says don’t employ one of those and being able to catch those slip-ups yourself is going to elevate your craft. It’s as simple as that.
If you’re not interested in picking up a nonfiction geared specifically toward teaching you grammar, try picking up your favorite book. I suggested this last week, too, for a different reason, but you really can’t discount how instrumental of a teacher a treasured story can be to you. Take a look and examine how your favorite author wields the technical tools at their disposal. What can you take from their example to apply to your own drafts?
At the end of the day, as a writer, you need “to know what you’re doing with your language and why. This involves knowing usage and punctuation well enough to use them skillfully, not as rules that impede you but as tools that serve you” (17). And remember: the point of honestly looking at our skills isn’t to get down on ourselves for being a “bad” writer; rather, this is about becoming a “better” writer. Instead of letting grammar be a stumbling block, let’s see what can be done to turn it into reflex and a point of confidence in your craft evolution.
So, here’s the practice Le Guin’s got for us! Keep in mind her guidelines for how to do one of these exercises:
You get 30 minutes to write. No more than that. She suggests setting a timer, getting focused, and getting it done. The quickness of it all is meant to keep you from over-deliberating or carrying on too long.
Don’t worry about having a finished product by the end of those 30 minutes. The point of these exercises is to practice, not to whip up your next fully-formed short story.
Give yourself time before critiquing or editing what you’ve written. Le Guin suggests not looking at your exercise piece until a day later, at the earliest. Only after there’s been some space should you look at it with revision and editing in mind.
EXERCISE TWO: AM I SARAMAGO
Write a paragraph to a page (150-350 words) of narrative with no punctuation (and no paragraphs or other breaking devices).
Suggested subject: A group of people engaged in a hurried or hectic or confused activity, such as a revolution, or the scene of an accident, or the first few minutes of a one-day sale.
To think about after writing it: What writing it felt like; how it differed from writing with the usual signs and guides and breaks; whether it led you to write differently from the way you usually write or gave you a different approach to something you’ve tried to write. Was the process valuable? Is the result readable?
Feel free to comment and let me know how this exercise was for you. It’s more than a little chaotic, to me, but, then again, I love that friggin’ Em dash and don’t like when it’s unavailable for use. Anyway, happy writing, friends, and catch you next week for Chapter Three!