My last couple of posts were a little heavy. Serious subject matter, and not a lot of advice to writers. So I plan to rectify both counts today. Not that what I am about to share is not serious—it is—but it’s not very deep. And it definitely qualifies as “advice”.

Imagine your elation.

Last week I found a new radio station. Well, I’m sure it’s been around for a while, but I located it by accidentally hitting one of my six radio buttons a second time. For anyone who still listens to the radio, you know the horror such action risks. God only knows who programmed what on the “B side” of radio buttons.

This station, however, was a nice find. For years I have been saying “Classic Rock” needs to encompass more than the ’60s and part of the ’70s. We are a decade into the new millennium—I think good rock and roll from the ’80s and ’90s should start finding its way into the “Classic Rock” programming.

(And no, I don’t need to hear any ’80s + “good rock and roll” = Oxymoron jokes.)

What, you may ask, does any of this have to do with writing? Not much. Until I use a radio ad I heard two days in a row to segue into the proper use of language.

Bam!

Lure you in with the rock and roll music and put the old writing skills hook in your cheek. Yep, that’s how I roll. And also, the blog’s title isn’t Rob on Rock. So shame on you, too, if you got a little excited about a blog covering the finer points of music (I will, however, give you an A+ suggestion for one of the best books I have read on {Heavy Metal} Rock and Roll—honestly, one of my favorite books on any subject: Fargo Rock City: A Heavy Metal Odyssey in North Dakota by Chuck Klosterman).

In any case, back to the writing: let me share the approximate copy from the ad and see if you can figure out where I am going.

THE SETUP: This is an ad for an optometrist, I believe. Or a lasik surgeon. (Doesn’t matter which, as you will soon see.) The pitchman is a baseball radio announcer. Here is his pitch:

“I announce baseball over the radio. It’s very important that what I see is what my audience hears is happening on the field.”

Or something like that. Now this ad has been like an ingrown toenail for my sensibility the past 48 hours (not sure my sensibility has feet, never mind toes, but I’ll go with it).

Seriously.

I cringed the first time I heard it.

A writer out there wrote this copy and was presumably paid for it. As the ad stands, if Eyeless Joe Jackson thinks gremlins are stealing home and white unicorns are chasing fly balls, then dammit, that is what his listeners are going to hear is happening on the field. That statement is actually the fact upon which the silly point of this commercial materializes, not the point itself.

And no, it’s not nit picking.

It’s dead wrong. What Joe should be concerned about (and what the advertiser, who is PAYING for the copy should care about) is whether or not what the announcer is seeing is really what happens to be taking place on the field.

Ergo, get better eyeglasses.

Or surgery.

Or whatever.

You wouldn’t pay an announcer whose voice sounded like a teen going through testosterone bliss. Why pay a writer that can’t figure out what his or her words are implying? Then again, if the decision-makers from (insert business name here) aren’t equipped to raise a hand in the review meeting and ask what the heck that ad means…well, I suppose all might be lost anyway.

Regardless, I still believe we writers should care about the little things like grammar, punctuation, and, yes, logic.We should care about differences between imply and infer, i.e. and e.g., they’re and there, affect and effect.

Less and fewer (one of my own pet peeves).

We should put the emphasis of a sentence at the end.

We should know that prepositions are not meant to end a sentence with.

(I hope you cringed there. If you did, we could really be great friends.)

I want to plug two books that every writer should have, read, and reread at least annually, covers to covers:

Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style: 50th Anniversary Edition

and

Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation, by Lynne Truss

I am a writer. I revel in the complexity, flow, beauty, eloquence, and sturdiness of human language through the millennia. (You’ll also note I am a BIG FAN of the Oxford comma.)

Bottom line? I have too much respect for language to abuse it.

I’ll finish with a well-known writer punctuation proverb that is particularly germane in this day and age of texting, sexting, and otherwise butchering the written language with no caps, no punctuation, and no respect:

Capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse and helping your uncle jack off a horse.

An oldie, yes, but also a goody.

Oh, and I lied. I cannot end on that particular little ditty. Being the CONSUMMATE movie buff I am, it would be sacrilegious to leave out one of my all-time favorite dialogue scenes. It’s from Get Shorty, and I will apologize upfront to Elmore Leonard because I just don’t remember if the lines were in the book or not. The banter goes a little something like this:

Ray “Bones”: Which also means when I speak, I’m speakin’ for Jimmy. So e.g. as of now, you start affording me the proper respect.

Chili Palmer: ‘E.g.’ means ‘for example’, Ray. I think what you wanna say is ‘i.e.’

Ray “Bones”: Bullshit. E.g. is short for ‘ergo’.

Chili Palmer: Ask your man here.

Mob Guy: Best a my knowledge, e.g. means ‘for example.’

Ray “Bones”: E.g., i.e., fuck you. The point is, I say jump, you say okay. Okay?

Enjoy your weekend.

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The blank page is dead…long live the blank page.