You say you want a “revelation” . . .
Apologies to John Lennon, but you, Reader-student, are now about to emerge out of the “Helter Skelter” of your piecemeal knowledge of grammar. And, to get started on the transformation, you can, right now, dig in to the first “stage” of my three-stage program of learning how to align, tighten, and energize the way you express yourself in words (whether writing or speaking) from passive, hazy, and ordinary to activated, lucid, and authentic.
Not just “rules and tips”
This early post (setting the foundation of my system’s Stage 1) will present the bedrock concepts (the theory part), in support of plenty of specific how-tos (the practice part). By emphasizing not just “the rules.” but the concepts behind them, I can actually teach you “how to” write, not just catalogue certain selected “rules and tips” that sometimes help a little but rarely — by themselves and out of context — help a lot.
Don’t get me wrong. I love “rules and tips.” You will never find a bigger nerd for rules and tips! I could read them all day, and sometimes I do. It’s what I love, but I’m also a critic. I critique the wording and presentation of these rules and tips. Some of them I admire and strive to emulate. Some just make me shake my head and wonder about all the damage done by what I find more common: ill-worded, vaguely exemplified, incomplete, and sometimes even misleading “rules and tips.”
The rules and tips found in the various and readily available grammar sites do differ in credibility and usefulness, but they all share one thing in common: they don’t teach you to write, and they don’t intend to, nor do they pretend to. Fair enough. They just catalogue and compile rules and tips. And, if you’re confused by these, the sites just might offer up a “pro” version that will clear up everything! Not.
Unfortunately, in my observation and experience, these “rules and tips” make practical, useful sense mainly to grammar nerds (often students or teachers), not people closer to average. With sufficient background, the rules and tips make sense, sometimes. Sorry, I’m just fussy about what I call “making practical sense.” You might think you “get it,” but I need to see it, in your noticeably improving writing. Yes, “rules and tips” can help, but not that much, especially to people with a so-so background in grammar and punctuation.
Instead, a system
Through a lot of rewarding time and effort, I’ve developed this new way of thinking about writing — especially sentence structure, but other aspects, too. From the start of my college-level teaching of writing (“Intermediate Composition” in 1990) I’ve never stopped experimenting and refining my writing system, which I’m continuing to refine, as we speak.
I saw every class (of a great many) as part of a large, lifelong experiment, and my final five years unfolded under especially favorable circumstances — deeply rewarding and amenable — as my system tightened and solidified. Five years later, I am sharing this system, seasoned and ready for an audience of learners not doing it for a grade, but for yourself.
So, along with some inescapable “rules and tips,” you’ll gain, from this first “stage” of my program, a sturdy conceptual background into what makes a sentence. Such conceptual underpinnings are usually the missing ingredient and the reason many readers neither truly understand nor remember what they read on grammar sites. We’re going to fix that.
Order in the court!
As I’ve said elsewhere (and will keep saying), your learning will gain greatly in both speed and depth if you read and, in your own way, study these three stages of learning in their sequential order.
Usually, you have to make a choice between speed and depth. Do you want it thorough, or do you want it fast? Right here and right now, if you study these lessons in order, you can have both! You’ll learn faster, and your learning will gain in depth (and, thereby, actual usefulness).
So, starting right here, please proceed in the planned order through the three major “stages” in learning my system. Each blog post, along the way, will include, in its title, a numeral, for Stage 1, 2, or 3, and a designating letter (a, b, c, etc.), to help you go through that larger stage in the most beneficial order.
Bottom line, unlike every “writing” or “grammar” site I’ve ever seen — and I quite regularly look at such sites with both an appreciative and critical eye — Up-Wordz.com, presents a system of writing, not just a storehouse of semi-random (alphabetized or, at least, searchable) rules and tips. Let us begin.
What one thing makes a sentence “legal“?
Since 1990, I’ve begun almost every writing-focused class or workshop I’ve taught with the question you see above. Lots of times, I would phrase it something more like this: What one grammatical entity makes a sentence complete — that is, “legal.”
In all those years, across hundreds of university writing classes taught and workshops given, I’ve heard the correct answer twice, once about 20 years ago and the next, about ten years after that. Do you know the answer, Reader-student? If so, write it in this blank.___________________
Just kidding. It’s not the kind of blank you can fill in. It’s just a “prop.” I’m trying to help you picture the scene. In class, my students would have paper in front of them, and I would ask them to write down an answer, a wild guess if needed: “It’s not for a grade, and I won’t even collect it. If you’re unsure, just take a stab.”
Across 30 years, I’ve heard the correct answer . . . twice
What does the fact above tell you about our collective understanding of our own language? Actually, the question (of what the ignorance of our own language says about our present times) could work well as an essay prompt, with unlimited “correct” answers possible.
But dang it! I can’t give you homework. That’s the main thing that worries me. I can’t dole out any “homework” to help you practice and reinforce the lessons you’ll read about here. Even worse, “no homework” means no feedback on it, either.
We’re all going to have to work a bit harder, to overcome this handicap, to fulfill my promise that you will be able to learn what I intend to teach you, such that your writing improves noticeably, especially to you. But don’t worry. I have a plan. More to come on that plan later, after I’ve cleared up the answer to my traditional, class-opening question about what “makes” a sentence.
The “One-Percenter” Club — you are cordially invited!
Yes, just an infinitesimally small percentage of not just the public, but of college students, can name “the one grammatical element that every sentence needs, in order to stand as “complete” (hence, not merely a sentence “fragment“). We are talking about English — in most cases, my students’ native language.
And when I hold up, as a reference group for my cultural critique, college students, I’m not singling out the incoming college newbies that I adored bringing into the grammatical light; I include, also, the abundant juniors and seniors I taught every year, in 20-student batches of science majors or business majors.
And to think, these students, fulfilling their required “upper-division” writing class, had already, in order to register for their advanced writing class, passed “freshman writing” (or, at CU-Boulder, “First-Year Writing and Rhetoric”).
In other words, not one upper-class student, across 25-30 groups of science or business majors I taught, could answer, Day 1 in my class, my grammatical starting point, despite having already passed “First-year Writing.” Is that sad, or what? And don’t answer, “or what.” We don’t need any wise-guys in the group!
With good reason, you might wonder, why couldn’t these “upperclassmen” (and women) answer “the first question” about English grammar? To avoid ripping my former employer (not very gracious), I’ll just say that the problem (of barely understanding the basic grammar of our own language!) afflicts our entire culture, not just students at one school or another.
But our “cultural” ignorance of even this most fundamental of grammatical rules (so don’t blame yourself), gives my promise both viability and value. In my view, our cultural “high bar” is abysmally low. Hearing the correct answer to my question twice, in 30 years, would seem to support that view.
So, with the “high bar” pretty low, I certainly can and hereby do promise to elevate you into that infinitesimally small group who can, among other things, readily and clearly answer my opening question. And, as you are about to find out, understanding the answer to this question opens many doors — for clarity, precision, and authenticity.
The answer — simple, specific, and practical
In English, as in many languages, every sentence tells (or asks or directs/commands) something about something.
Each sentence thusly contains not one, but two “essential” parts: the thing we’re talking about — that’s the sentence’s subject — and what that subject is doing, being, or having — that’s the subject’s predicate.
Together, the subject (S) plus its predicate (P) comprise the sentence’s MAIN CLAUSE (MC), also commonly known as an independent clause (the same thing, just a different name for it). I prefer “main clause” because the term is shorter; plus, it better emphasizes the MC‘s elite status: “independent” or not, whatever that might mean, it’s the sentence’s main clause — and I know what main means!
So, to succinctly answer the million-dollar question, as to the one thing every sentence needs, we can say, simply, that . . .
*****************
. . . a grammatically correct and, thusly, complete sentence must present at least one main clause — naming a subject and proposing the subject’s predicate.
*****************
There. Now you know — correctly and without clutter. Welcome to the 1% Club. I’m so glad you could get yourself in.
Crucially (so I will reiterate), the sentence’s predicate tells just what (according to the writer!) the named subject is (or was, or will be) . . . (drumroll) . . . doing, being, or having (not necessarily in that order).
I restate these three, crucial, “verb possibilities” for the predicate because understanding predicates in this “triple-threat” definition (original to my system, please note) serves critically in the very foundation of my “activated” writing approach, as you will see, especially when we get to Stage 3 of the system.
And, to help set up Stage 3’s powerful focus (the “activated” part of my system), please look over this partial list of the many (ubiquitous?) forms of the “being” option for the predicate. Some students have asked for clarification on this, so let’s make sure to understand the “being” option. (I’ll explain furthere in the Stage 1 post (1.d) that focuses on predicates.)
For a predicate that isn’t doing or having anything, but simply being something, the predicate might (depending on context) use any of quite a few forms of the “to be” verb, including is, was, will be, am, are, were, been, have been, had been — not to mention other odd forms, like could have been, etc. Guess what’s the most common verb in the Engish language. It’s “to be.”
Anyway, now you know that a sentence, to stand as complete, must show both a subject and predicate — that is, a main clause. In fact, as you will learn as we move through my system’s Stage 2, a sentence may actually contain more than one main clause, as long as they are “joined” (aka “linked” or “connected“) in one of a few “legal” ways. But what’s required, grammatically, is at least one main clause. Anything added to that main clause (whether at the beginning, middle, or end) is gravy.
Examples of main clauses — some clear-cut and some tricky
I’m going to use my bold vs. italics typography to show the subjects and predicates of some main clauses, starting with very simple examples and progressing toward more complex constructions. I’ll be noting not the “simple,” but the “complete” forms of these Ss and Ps. You’ll learn all about the difference in my next post. For now, just look over these sample sentences and think about their main clauses. Use both your eyes and your ears. I want you to not just see each MC, but to also hear it.
1: This example gets us started.
2. Now that we’ve begun, the sentences will start getting more complex.
3. You may notice that I’m adding some additional sentence parts, not just the S‘s and Ps.
4. This one is a “compound sentence”; you’ll learn all about these in Stage 2.
5. Studying hard won’t seem like work, when you know you’re really learning.
The “essence” of a sentence — it’s everywhere!
Since a sentence requires, to stand as complete, only a MC, we can call the MC “essential.” That’s hardly a stretch, but I do like to stretch the definition of “essential,” to go past just the sense of required. To do so, I’ll invoke the idea of essence as the core substance of a thing — as with the essential oil of a plant.
Combining these two senses of “requirement” and “core substance” — I have, for decades, taught about main clauses as “the essence of a sentence.” Every sentence you write emanates an essence: the subject that you named and the predicate that you “gave” to your subject, telling what (according to you) your subject does, is or has. You don’t think about it (at least, not until now), but all day long you are constantly naming subjects and assigning predicates! No wonder you’re so worn out by bedtime! 🙂
Think about it. If you’re not talking or writing — or possibly listening — you are likely to be at least thinking (hard to turn that off, without special ability). And what form do these thoughts take? Words in our heads — that’s what form! We can’t really get away from language; if it’s not outside of us, it’s inside of us!
And, when we use language with others, whether speaking or writing, we articulate our meaning and, in a sense, ourselves in terms of subjects and predicates. We think about certain “things” (people, places, events, relationships, things we want, things we don’t want, etc.), and these become our subjects. And we think certain things about these things (namely what they are doing, being, or having), and these become our predicates. Are you starting to see why I make such a big deal about Ss and Ps — and how they combine to make main clauses?
Which came first? The chicken or the predicate?
In fact, may grammar sites refer to a main clause not as containing a subject and predicate, but as “expressing a complete thought.” I find it very interesting that a so-called “complete thought,” to these authors, aligns so directly with the precise definition of a main clause. Don’t you? Boy, talk about relating our thoughts to our grammatical building blocks.
As a theorist of language, I cannot help but pose the question, which drives which? Does our language — our framer and basis for meaning — incline us to think in terms of subjects and predicates, or is it the other way around? Maybe our natural way of thinking has led humans to create a grammar, to match! Like most such puzzles, it’s probably both.
Of course, people can write and speak to each other naturally, with zero knowledge or concern about any gol-dang subjects and predicates. That’s how our language works, so that’s what we hear, and we imitate it — more or less. We’re not thinking about grammar terms, but that’s not stopping us from naming the people, places, or things we’re talking about (aka subjects) and referring to what they are doing, being or having (predicates).
Strive to sound like YOU . . . more, not less!
That’s natural, but the problems with “more or less” imitating what we hear with our ears arise when we come in at “less.” That’s where grammatical errors arise, and, to me, even worse, that’s when our “talk” lacks any originality — to avoid “sounding wrong,” we do our best to talk like everyone else — to fit in.
Instead of striving for authenticity, we’re trying for sameness. Yes, to me, that’s worse than grammatical errors. If I must, I’ll take a couple little grammatical flaws any day, if it means reading or hearing you, as YOU, not as some someone trying, more — or less — to fit in. Best case scenario, I get to hear from your li’l ol’ authentic self — and the grammar doesn’t trip you up, the grammar makes your way!
That’s what subjects and predicates mean to me, Reader-student. But if we did know those building blocks by name — and by function — we could more mindfully and skillfully craft them, sculpt them, assert them, or just, with a growing ease, say them, out loud or to ourselves. Either way, we’ll know them — with enhanced precision, correctness, and style.
As we continue through this first stage of my system, we will look more closely — and individually — at subjects and predicates, both simple and complete (their two forms). My hope? From now on, you’re going to “choose and use” them with a lot more awareness that you’re doing so. That’s when your voice starts to open up. Get ready to sing!