World of confusion

English is loaded with pairs of words and phrases that are easily confused. That's what makes writing so much fun, right? "When Words Collide," the text I use in my writing class and which I reference to the right of this blog, contains a glossary that discusses puzzling pairs of words. In this post, I'll address a few common ones and try to revisit the issue periodically.

-- Can/may. These two aren't interchangeable. Use "can" when you are denoting ability, as in, "Do you think I can win the race?" Use "may" when you want to establish permission: "May I borrow your book?"

-- Compare with/compare to. Write "compare with" when you're making a literal comparison. "Our profit this quarter was up when compared with our profit in the same quarter last year." Use "compare to" to make a figurative comparison. "Laura compared assembling the annual report to running a marathon."

-- Since/because. "Since" is the proper word when you want to express a period of time, as in, "It has been years since I visited there." Use "because" to give a reason or cause. "Production is slumping because our machinery is old and broken." The common error involving these two is to misuse "since," as in, "I refuse to sign this report since I disagree with it." That's wrong. Swap "since" with "because."

-- Principal/principle. I recently discovered an error with this pair on a colleague's Web site. "Principal" is someone who is first in rank or authority, as in the principal of a high school or the principal speaker at a convention. "Principle" refers to a truth, doctrine or rule of conduct.

-- Eager/anxious. Writers frequently use "anxious" when what they really mean is "eager." Use "anxious" when you're describing a state of fear and worry. Think "anxious" and "anxiety." "Eager" is the word when you want to indicate a mood of stimulation or excitement.

When in doubt, leave it out

Even the most skilled writer will fail unless the information being conveyed in his or her material is accurate. Everybody knows that, right? But yet writers sometimes – either out of laziness or hurry – neglect to check their facts, and so errors and inaccuracies creep into copy.

When you write, ask yourself where you got your information. Is it from a credible source? The Editors Weblog recently carried a post detailing how Agence France Presse recently banned its reporters from relying on Facebook and Wikipedia as sole sources in their stories. I agree with the news organization's reasoning – the two sites rely on info posted by whomever, so in many cases it hasn't been reviewed for accuracy. It's not necessarily credible.

You need to be just as wary as Agence France when you're writing. Find a source, ask questions, be skeptical. If you can't verify, then don't include it in your copy. Adhere to this journalism maxim: "When in doubt, leave it out."

Become a vigorous verb collector

In last week's post, I emphasized the value of jamming as many lively, punchy verbs into your bean as possible because verbs are the heart of effective writing. But how do you become well-versed in verbs? You need to collect them with all the zeal of an antiques fancier.

Perhaps the best place to do your verb mining is within the work of good writers. Keep pen and pencil handy the next time you're reading, and when you encounter a forceful verb, jot it down. Before long, you'll have compiled a sizable list. Then it's a matter of making them part of your writing vocabulary. The act of writing them down helps fix them in your mind and may be all that's needed to make them yours.

Like a collector of rare baseball cards or pottery, though, you might like to become even more familiar with your collection. In that case, use the entries on your verb list in sentences. Do that a few times and they'll definitely become yours, and your writing will be that much brawnier.

Pump up scrawny writing with powerful verbs

One of the first lectures I give in my writing class every semester is on verbs. This vital classification of words is the bedrock on which all solid writing is based, which makes sense. Verbs, after all, express action (to write, to run, to strike, to die) or a state of being (I am, you are). Their very presence is required to form a sentence.

But their power extends far beyond their ability to express action. It's how they express it that makes them shine. If you want to instantly improve your writing, cultivate an appreciation for lively, descriptive verbs.

Why say, "She took the hat from his head," when you can say, "She snatched...ripped...plucked the hat." Why not spice up a dull sentence like, "The wind blew hard across the prairie" by recasting it using a punchy verb: "The wind scoured the prairie."

Just as verbs can liven a sentence, provided you choose wisely, picking the wrong verb can be like tossing a spoon into a whirring garbage disposal. You'll make an unpleasant noise and just might break something, like the reader's attention.

Mean what you say

The tag line for my public relations and marketing communications business, Leigh Communications, is "Say What You Mean."

I chose that phrase because saying what you mean, particularly in writing, can be a challenge, as the The Dallas Morning News recently discovered in making its "Texan of the Year" selection.

The paper's aim in designating a Texan of the year is to recognize a person or group that has had a major impact or has produced change in the Lone Star State over the past year.

But the paper touched off a prairie fire of criticism when it named the illegal immigrant as its Texan of the year. The selection produced 800 blog postings and more than 150 letters to the editor -- all slamming the decision. As one reader fumed, "What part of stupid are you guys that support illegal aliens?"

Backpedaling, the paper explained that being named "Texan of the Year" isn't necessarily an honor and its intent wasn't to support "illegal aliens." The News explained that its selection was intended to make the point that the flood of illegal immigrants is having a considerable impact on Texas and the rest of the nation. But critics weren't buying that nuance, and for that, the newspaper is at fault.

In naming the selection "Texan of the Year," the News was ignoring a fundamental rule of communication: You must be clear in meaning. To put it another way, say what you mean.

The paper failed in that by ignoring the long held practice of corporations and organizations of naming a man or woman of the year and intending that designation to be an honor. You can't use that "____ of the year" phrasing, with its strong connotation of being an accolade, and expect to rope it to some other meaning. Time magazine commits the same error with its "Person of the Year" designation. Both publications should develop another name for these designations that more closely describes their intent. How about "The Year's Top Influencer"?

Saying what you mean requires attention not only to the precise meaning of words or phrases but to their connotations and common usages. Failing to do so, as the Dallas Morning News discovered, can have perilous consequences.