Through language, we make edifying texts that describe our universe, from the smallest cell to the largest star system. We also use languages to create new universes, like Neverland, Westeros, Oz, and Tatooine. And every literary universe works like our universe: it has its own physics and rules that govern it—gravity, thermodynamics, the conservation of energy, etc. Without such laws, the universe would make no sense and fall apart.
Similarly, language itself would make no sense and fall apart without grammar.
Similarly, language itself would make no sense and fall apart without grammar.
Grammar is the set of conventions that allow writing to make sense.
Take note that the word conventions is used here, not laws or rules. Laws (from the Norse log meaning "something fixed and set") are inflexible and absolute, yet language is constantly changing. Grammar rules are more befitting: from the Latin regula meaning "to straighten using a guide," rules have some degree of flexibility but still imply that the overall goal is nice, straight conformity. However, grammar is best thought of as a set of conventions: combining the Latin stems con (together) and venio (to come), a convention is an agreement made by people coming together.
Grammar isn't important because that's the rule—it's important because it helps bring people together and understand one another. Conventions help writing stay clear because all writers follow the same paths, so to speak. As agreements, conventions can always change too: so long as everyone agrees to do something another way so everyone understands, conventions are added, disappear, or change over time.
So what are the conventions of written English grammar? First, let's break down the categories of these conventions, which are often used interchangeably but have very specific meanings.
The rules of the universe affect everything, both large and small. What's the smallest unit of matter? The tiniest piece? Most people say "an atom." We usually start at the atom, but that's incorrect. We need to think smaller: atoms are made of protons, electrons, and neutrons, which in turn are made of subatomic particles (which may or may no be made of tiny strings or even smaller particles or magic dust. I'm not a scientist.) Atoms are then put together to form element and molecules, which in turn can be combined to created proteins, carbohydrates, lipids, and acids; these then form cells, which then form organs, which then form organisms. It's a chain of development, but we must acknowledge that it all starts smaller than the atom.
Language can be thought of in a similar fashion. We usually think the smallest unit of language is the sentences, but to get the full picture, we need to start smaller. The most basic unit of language is the letter. Letters combine to form words. Words combine into related groups called phrases. Some phrases are subjects, some are verb-oriented, and some are modifiers. When a subject phrase meets a verb phrase, a clause is formed. Clauses combine to form sentences, and sentences combine into paragraphs. From there, all writing is formed.
This mindset is key for thinking about grammar. Analysis of the parts of speech happens at the level of the individual word. Analysis at the level of groups of works (phrases, clauses, and sentences is called mechanics. Analysis at the level of paragraphs where sentences work together to create meaning is called usage.
Grammar isn't important because that's the rule—it's important because it helps bring people together and understand one another. Conventions help writing stay clear because all writers follow the same paths, so to speak. As agreements, conventions can always change too: so long as everyone agrees to do something another way so everyone understands, conventions are added, disappear, or change over time.
So what are the conventions of written English grammar? First, let's break down the categories of these conventions, which are often used interchangeably but have very specific meanings.
The rules of the universe affect everything, both large and small. What's the smallest unit of matter? The tiniest piece? Most people say "an atom." We usually start at the atom, but that's incorrect. We need to think smaller: atoms are made of protons, electrons, and neutrons, which in turn are made of subatomic particles (which may or may no be made of tiny strings or even smaller particles or magic dust. I'm not a scientist.) Atoms are then put together to form element and molecules, which in turn can be combined to created proteins, carbohydrates, lipids, and acids; these then form cells, which then form organs, which then form organisms. It's a chain of development, but we must acknowledge that it all starts smaller than the atom.
Language can be thought of in a similar fashion. We usually think the smallest unit of language is the sentences, but to get the full picture, we need to start smaller. The most basic unit of language is the letter. Letters combine to form words. Words combine into related groups called phrases. Some phrases are subjects, some are verb-oriented, and some are modifiers. When a subject phrase meets a verb phrase, a clause is formed. Clauses combine to form sentences, and sentences combine into paragraphs. From there, all writing is formed.
This mindset is key for thinking about grammar. Analysis of the parts of speech happens at the level of the individual word. Analysis at the level of groups of works (phrases, clauses, and sentences is called mechanics. Analysis at the level of paragraphs where sentences work together to create meaning is called usage.
THE PARTS OF SPEECH
The most basic unit of grammar is the word.
Words are equivalent to mental images called concepts.
When you see the word tree, you picture a tree in your head, and the concept is communicated. When you see red, you picture the color red in your head. When you see the word copse... okay, with that one, you may not know what copse means and either picture nothing or misread it as corpse and picture a dead body.
The point of words is to convey meaning to the reader. This doesn't mean that words are perfect descriptors. When seeing the word tree, one person may imagine a tall evergreen while another imagines a slender aspen. When seeing the word red, one person may imagine a bright scarlet while another imagines a dull and dark maroon. When seeing the word copse (and knowing that it means "a small group of trees"), one person may imagine a group of four trees and another a group of forty. But together as a copse of scarlet trees, the image becomes more specific and clearer as an image. A copse of two dozen towering maples with scarlet leaves is an even clearer image with less room for personal interpretation.
By the way, this "even clearer image" is called a notion.
But how do we know what words go together—which are things and which are descriptors and which are actions? That where lexical categorization comes in, a fancy word grammarians use for the parts of speech, which are categories of words based around the kind of concepts they convey. American English has eight parts of speech—most other languages have more. The parts of speech fall into two groups: the expressive parts of speech (where we constantly add new words) and the functional parts of speech (needed to understand the other parts of speech and pretty much set):
The point of words is to convey meaning to the reader. This doesn't mean that words are perfect descriptors. When seeing the word tree, one person may imagine a tall evergreen while another imagines a slender aspen. When seeing the word red, one person may imagine a bright scarlet while another imagines a dull and dark maroon. When seeing the word copse (and knowing that it means "a small group of trees"), one person may imagine a group of four trees and another a group of forty. But together as a copse of scarlet trees, the image becomes more specific and clearer as an image. A copse of two dozen towering maples with scarlet leaves is an even clearer image with less room for personal interpretation.
By the way, this "even clearer image" is called a notion.
But how do we know what words go together—which are things and which are descriptors and which are actions? That where lexical categorization comes in, a fancy word grammarians use for the parts of speech, which are categories of words based around the kind of concepts they convey. American English has eight parts of speech—most other languages have more. The parts of speech fall into two groups: the expressive parts of speech (where we constantly add new words) and the functional parts of speech (needed to understand the other parts of speech and pretty much set):
EXPRESSIVE
|
FUNCTIONAL
|
MECHANICS
Yet knowing the parts of speech alone doesn't tell you what order the words go in: maples with a scarlet two copse of leaves towering dozen doesn't change a single part of speech but isn't as clear as a copse of two dozen towering maples with scarlet leaves. Arranging letters and words so they make logical sense is a set of conventions formally called orthography in linguistics but is more commonly called mechanics. There are four subcategories when it comes to mechanics:
SPELLING: the proper order of letters in a word
CAPITALIZATION: the correct distinction between use of uppercase and lowercase letters in a word
SYNTAX: the logical arrangement of words to create phrases, clauses, sentences, and paragraphs
PUNCTUATION: the addition of symbols before, after, inside, and in between words to clarify meaning
When it comes to spelling, you need to conform to a word's spelling in a dictionary. The standard dictionary of American English is the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Remember that not all English is American English: if you pick up the Oxford English Dictionary, you'll be set astray with improper spellings of words like favourite, fibre, analise, cancelled, offence, tyre, sceptical, and worst of all, towards.
Capitalization has three broad conventions for writers to follow. One, the first word of a sentence must be capitalized. Two, the pronoun I must always be capitalized. Three, proper nouns (e.g., America, Instagram) and proper adjectives (e.g., an American company, an Instagram story) are capitalized. This last convention is the one that results in a lot of mistakes in capitalization because it's sometimes unclear as to what's a proper noun and what's a common noun.
Capitalization has three broad conventions for writers to follow. One, the first word of a sentence must be capitalized. Two, the pronoun I must always be capitalized. Three, proper nouns (e.g., America, Instagram) and proper adjectives (e.g., an American company, an Instagram story) are capitalized. This last convention is the one that results in a lot of mistakes in capitalization because it's sometimes unclear as to what's a proper noun and what's a common noun.
The other two categories of mechanics have a bit more to them.
Syntax
Let's get back to the idea of how words are arranged. Essentially, we take words, which represent concepts, and put them together to create more detailed and specific concepts called notions. Notion originates from the Greek word gno ("know"), and a notion in semantics is something noticed or acknowledged. When you observe something (That tree is green), that's a notion. When you form a belief or opinion (That tree is ugly), that's also a notion. When you define or explain something (That tree is a Blue Spruce), that's a notion too.
Not all combinations of words result in a full notion that makes sense on its own. In the park, for example, communicates that something is in the park but not what that something is. Two beautiful moss-covered pines also communicate a clear object but not what the object is doing. In contrast, were gently swaying in the breeze communicates an action, when it occured, and how long it lasted but not what was swaying. These incomplete notions are called phrases, and it's only when they are put together that they form a full notion, which is called a clause: In the park, the two moss-covered pine trees were gently swaying in the breeze
Not all combinations of words result in a full notion that makes sense on its own. In the park, for example, communicates that something is in the park but not what that something is. Two beautiful moss-covered pines also communicate a clear object but not what the object is doing. In contrast, were gently swaying in the breeze communicates an action, when it occured, and how long it lasted but not what was swaying. These incomplete notions are called phrases, and it's only when they are put together that they form a full notion, which is called a clause: In the park, the two moss-covered pine trees were gently swaying in the breeze
Phrases are equivalent to complex concepts that add deatail to a larger notion.
Clauses are equivalent to full notions that communicate an opinion, observation, knowledge, or belief.
To be a complete notion, a clause needs a subject (something for it to be about) and a predicate (something to say about the subject). Predicates always include a verb that describes what the subject is doing (action verb) or comments on how the subject exists (linking verb). Often, the predicate also needs complements, which are objects or descriptors that complete the notion.
Clauses (i.e., notions) are the building blocks to create sentences (i.e., thoughts). A sentence is a standalone statement of fact or opinion, a command to someone else, or a question for someone else. A sentence can consist of a single clause or several clauses with related subjects. The conventions around syntax involve how words in a clause or sentence have to agree in tense, number, case, and occasionally gender; how to logically combine clauses; and how to break off sentences and paragraphs, which are groups of sentences revolving around the same topic or idea.
Clauses (i.e., notions) are the building blocks to create sentences (i.e., thoughts). A sentence is a standalone statement of fact or opinion, a command to someone else, or a question for someone else. A sentence can consist of a single clause or several clauses with related subjects. The conventions around syntax involve how words in a clause or sentence have to agree in tense, number, case, and occasionally gender; how to logically combine clauses; and how to break off sentences and paragraphs, which are groups of sentences revolving around the same topic or idea.
Sentences are equivalent to thoughts, which are fully formed statements, commands, or questions.
Paragraphs are equivalent to ideas consisting of multiple thoughts on the same topic or focus.
The more writing you're working with, the more flexible the conventions around mechanics are. Spelling is very strict as to what is right or wrong; where to add paragraph breaks is mostly a decision made by the writer. This makes syntax overall more of an art rather than a strict set of guidelines, which is why it is also an element of style. Syntax can be used to make writing sound a certain way (a principle called sonance) or to emphasize how concepts are similar (a principle called parallelism). There is even a set of stylistic loopholes to the conventions of mechanics called solecism.
Punctuation
But how do you show that a clause, sentence, or paragraph has ended? That thought occurred to Aristophanes of Byzantium, the head librarian of the ancient Library of Alexandria, as he transcribed deteriorating and unclear scrolls from centuries before his birth. He created a system of stigme, or points, to mark the ends of supplemental phrases, clauses, and sentences. The Romans adopted the Greek system but used their own word for "point"--punctus—for their system of symbols to clarify writing. Their system of punctuation was developed throughout Europe during the Middle Ages into the set of common symbols we use today:
period = ends statements, commands, and abbreviations
|
dash = shows interruptions, supplements, and ranges
|
In addition to these are newer and more nonstandard marks like asterisks, ampersands, degree marks, octothorpes, dinkuses, interrobangs, guillemets, soliduses, obeleses, primes, currency symbols, copyright symbols, mathematical symbols, and the commercial at. Modern typography has also introduced a new type of punctuation called emphatic styling, which changes the appearance of the words themselves: bolding for headers and keywords; italics for titles, foreign words, vocal stress, and definiendums; underlines for titles and hyperlinks; strikethroughs for corrected but not deleted text; and ALL CAPS for shouting.
USAGE
The final aspect of grammar is the most nebulous and ever-changing: usage, which is how accepted the application of words, phrases, and writing style is in a certain discourse community. Or, in other words, which words, phrases, and conventions you can use and which ones you can't.
The most basic principle of usage is denotation: does the definition of the word you're using actually fit the context? For example, it makes sense to say I carefully carved the Thanksgiving turkey into large, succulent slices, but despite hacked being a synonym of carved and pulpy being a synonym of succulent, I carefully hacked the Thanksgiving turkey into large, pulpy slices does not make logical sense. Hacked is defined as "cut forcefully and roughly," which doesn't mesh with being careful or slices. Pulpy means "soft and juicy" but is used to describe fruits, not meats.
Words that are frequently incorrectly substituted for another are referred to as yellow words. Just as a yellow light or road sign means "take caution," a yellow word is one that should be double-checked for accuracy. Some yellow words are homophones and are confused because they sound alike (e.g., to, too, two; their, there, they're; your, you're, yore). Others are synonyms that are have a specific case, number, tense, or gender that make them only usable in certain contexts (e.g., fewer vs. less, each other vs. one another, between vs. among). Some yellow words are confused with similar words that are spelled the same way except for a letter—these are called atomic typos (e.g., exited vs. excited, climatic vs. climactic, lose vs. loose). Still other yellow words are confused for another word with a similar meaning that is a different part of speech (e.g., good vs. well, hangout vs. hang out, lay vs. lie). There are even some words that are only used for people and some that are only used for objects (e.g., who vs. that vs. which; hanged vs. hung; utilize).
The last principle of differentiating people from objects also applies to cultures: Hispanic and Oriental can describe objects or concepts but not people. Similarly, queer can describe culture and history but not people. These conventions follow modern guidelines around respect toward others. These cultural mores evolve over time—there are even some words that are no longer accepted in any context, which are called slurs.
Slurs are sometimes confused with obscenities, which are indecent words and phrases that may offend everyday readers. Obscenity is typically connected to sexual activity, sexual organs, or bodily functions.
The most basic principle of usage is denotation: does the definition of the word you're using actually fit the context? For example, it makes sense to say I carefully carved the Thanksgiving turkey into large, succulent slices, but despite hacked being a synonym of carved and pulpy being a synonym of succulent, I carefully hacked the Thanksgiving turkey into large, pulpy slices does not make logical sense. Hacked is defined as "cut forcefully and roughly," which doesn't mesh with being careful or slices. Pulpy means "soft and juicy" but is used to describe fruits, not meats.
Words that are frequently incorrectly substituted for another are referred to as yellow words. Just as a yellow light or road sign means "take caution," a yellow word is one that should be double-checked for accuracy. Some yellow words are homophones and are confused because they sound alike (e.g., to, too, two; their, there, they're; your, you're, yore). Others are synonyms that are have a specific case, number, tense, or gender that make them only usable in certain contexts (e.g., fewer vs. less, each other vs. one another, between vs. among). Some yellow words are confused with similar words that are spelled the same way except for a letter—these are called atomic typos (e.g., exited vs. excited, climatic vs. climactic, lose vs. loose). Still other yellow words are confused for another word with a similar meaning that is a different part of speech (e.g., good vs. well, hangout vs. hang out, lay vs. lie). There are even some words that are only used for people and some that are only used for objects (e.g., who vs. that vs. which; hanged vs. hung; utilize).
The last principle of differentiating people from objects also applies to cultures: Hispanic and Oriental can describe objects or concepts but not people. Similarly, queer can describe culture and history but not people. These conventions follow modern guidelines around respect toward others. These cultural mores evolve over time—there are even some words that are no longer accepted in any context, which are called slurs.
Slurs are sometimes confused with obscenities, which are indecent words and phrases that may offend everyday readers. Obscenity is typically connected to sexual activity, sexual organs, or bodily functions.