Rogue Ink

June 12, 2008

War on English: The Evil Nominalization

Filed under: Out of Context, The War on English — Tei @ 5:58 am

You may not know what nominalizations are, but you know them when you read them. You know because your brain is unable to focus on the words, as though they were a verbal blind spot. You cannot quite comprehend what the words are attempting to tell you, and you promptly decide you don’t care, because it’s too difficult, and it probably wasn’t important anyway.

The phenomenal Douglas Adams (may his atheist soul no longer exist, for it is so he wished it to be and we honor the wishes of Douglas Adams above all other British humor writers, always excepting the ubiquitous P.G. Wodehouse, for whom Adams himself had intense admiration, so we feel that he would be down with playing second fiddle to him) called the nominalization an S.E.P.

S.E.P. standing, of course, for Someone Else’s Problem.

S.E.P.s worked thusly: When a large spaceship containing homicidal androids landed in the middle of Lord’s Cricket Ground in England, bystanders’ eyes simply refused to focus on it. They would look through it, over it, anywhere but at it, while aforementioned homicidal androids methodically killed folk.

That is what a nominalization is.

It is not as cool as it sounds.

The Set-Up

When you write web copy, or print copy, or really anything in a written form, there should always something important about the message you’re delivering. That message does not have to be earth-shatteringly important. Not, just to pick an example out of nowhere, spaceship containing homicidal androids in the middle of a cricket field important. The message does have to have some significance to your audience, though. Your message should talk about something they want, or need, or didn’t know they needed, but now must have, like an iPhone.

If there is nothing significant in what you are writing, please put the pen down and back away slowly, lest I be forced to break out the nunchucks. Writing with no purpose is how bad poetry starts, people. Just say no.

Now then. You have your significant message. Let us say that your message is that you have an excellent new product. This product that will tell off your evil in-laws for you. Not only that, it will do so with excellent timing and perfectly calculated barbs detailing their personal foibles, nervous tics, and sexual deficiencies. Pretty sweet. We’re all excited about it. Tell me, say I. Tell me about this magnificent product, that does something that I personally have wanted to do forever. Oh sweet fancy Moses, tell me about it.

Enter the Evil Nominalization and Its Accompanying Ominous Theme Music

With the utilization of this product, the target of the chastisement will receive a message calibrated for optimal insult impact. The calculation of optimal insult impact is determined by the consideration of five demographics which may include relationship to spouse, relationship to offspring, personal deficiencies, body odor, and possession of pornography.

Admit it. Until I got to the bit about porn, you were dozing off. And that was a mightily cool product, people. There is no earthly reason it should be that boring. Except for the evil, evil nominalization and its buddy the passive voice, the latter of which will become acquainted with the force of roguish wrath another day.

I had an English professor who brought in an amazing example of the true evil to which the nominalization could stoop. Those of you who are a bit squeamish may wish to skip this passage. You will understand when I tell you it involves not only the nominalization, but also insurance agents and lawyers.

Yes. I know. Please avert the eyes of your children.

The Ultimate Evil of the Nominalization.

My professor had recently bought a car. The manufacturers of that car sent her a letter after she signed on the dotted line. It ran as follows. (WARNING: Reading the following passage may result in a 1% decrease in your overall innocence. No one will think any less of you for skipping it and going straight to the translation. No one. Least of all Buddha.)

A defect which involves the possible failure of a frame support plate may exist on your vehicle. This plate (front suspension pivot bar support plate) connects a portion of the front suspension to the vehicle frame, and its failure could affect vehicle directional control, particularly during heavy brake application. In addition, your vehicle may require adjustment service to the hood secondary catch system. The secondary catch may be misaligned so that the hood may not be adequately restrained to prevent hood fly-up in the event the primary latch is inadvertantly left disengaged. Sudden hood fly-up beyond the secondary catch while driving could impair visibility. In certain circumstances, occurrence of either of the above conditions could result in vehicle crash without prior warning.

Did you get that? Neither did most people. Here’s what that message actually said, without the nominalizations:

There are two problems with your vehicle. Either of these problems could result in your losing control of the vehicle. One of the problems has to do with steering, the other with your hood flying up and covering your windshield with a noise calculated to scare the beejeezus out of you. If either of those things happens (oh, and they will) you will probably soon be crashing head-on into another car, a tree, a small pony, or other large and uncomfortably knobbly object. Stay away from the death trap. Warning, warning, danger Will Robinson. Or actually, go ahead and drive the death trap. We did warn you, after all. Our legal butts are covered, and our insurance isn’t going to pay up. Nyah nyah nyah.

P.S. Death!

Insurance agents and lawyers calculated that message. It was designed to inform people without actually informing them, so that they would not return their cars, insisting on a refund and threatening the lives’ of the mechanic’s beloved puppies. The letters were delivered; the people were warned. Except they weren’t. They were all lying in boredom-induced catatonic states, drooling and praying no one would use the phrase ’secondary catch’ at them again. Ever.

The insurance company was covered. The lawyers had done their duty, making sure all the information was in the letter. The people had been warned. The thing is, nominalizations parked themselves in front of the real information like big, fat S.E.P.s and refused to move. And no one heard the real message in the background, squeaking, “DEATH!”

Moral of the Story: When Lawyers and Insurance Companies Use a Linguistic Device, Stay Clear. Also, Nudity is Attention-Getting.

If you are not a lawyer or an insurance agent, you don’t want to obscure your message. You want to show it off. You want to strip it naked, paint it bright red, put rings on its fingers and bells on its toes and send it through town doing acrobatics on the back of a two-headed goat. If you have a message that is this attention-grabbing and you throw the big black garbage bag of nominalization over it, you are doing a disservice to us all.

Okay, you say. I get it. No nominalizations. What are they again? My eyes, they just . . . couldn’t . . . seem to - I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to read it properly. What was all that about? Was that a spaceship?

No problem. That’s to be expected. Here’s a specific nominization from the previous example.

vehicle directional control

You probably know what that means, when you think about it hard enough. Adams says not to look at it head-on, just sneak up on it and glance out of the corner of your eye. That helps. Vehicle directional control basically means steering.

‘Loss of vehicle directional control’ means ‘you won’t be able to steer.’

Bad news bears.

The English Major Definition

The nominization is the removal of a subject from a sentence. Instead of ’she took’, the nominalization is ‘the taking’. Instead of ‘he broke’, the nominalization is ‘the breaking’. Nominalization is the horror that is verbs masquerading as subjects.

As we all learned in our primary school, subjects and verbs go together, hand in hand, like happy little dance partners.

She ran

He fell

They took

The vicious little verbs murdered their happy little dance partners and are now spinning gleefully all alone in the middle of the dance floor, attempting to summon Mephistopholes.

The running

The falling

The taking

Oh NO. Save us all.

Why Was This Horrific Thing Invented? Why Gods Why?

Easy. It took people out of the equation. Go back up. Look at those examples. See any pronouns? Anyone saying ‘I’ or ‘you’ or ‘we’ or ‘he’ or ’she’ or ’s/he’ for you bigendered people out there? No? Me neither.

Nominalizations mean you don’t have to get people involved. It’s no one’s fault that the car doesn’t work properly. It’s no one’s situation. The situation is just there, all on its own. And we’d rather you didn’t examine it too closely.

Or, in nominalization-speak, ‘Examination of the problem will result in uncomfortable surety that an entity (which shall remain unattached to homo sapiens sapiens of any kind) may have royally fucked up.’

People like to read about other people. They want to know about your product, your message, your human nature. Do not be an S.E.P., and do not make your message into an S.E.P. to avoid mentioning the humans behind it.

Unless, of course, you’re not human. That is a problem for another day.

Subscription to the weblog under perusal will bring enthused sensations to certain parties.

May 10, 2008

And the Winner Is . . . Dirtiness.

Filed under: Journalism, Out of Context, Quotes, Writing — Tei @ 6:25 pm
Tags: , , ,

Rogues, scoundrels, fiends, vagabonds, renegades, rebels, down-at-heel heroes, kitchen lads and lasses, and, of course, artists . . . .

I give you the submissions for the Bad Journalism Pun Joke Awards.

The insanely awesome prize for winning this contest is a drink of the winner’s choosing, bought by the owner of the Lusty Weevil (that would be your Rogue truly), cash. Well, not cash. PayPal. Because this is a virtual pub, people. You gotta roll with it. The virtual component of the prize means that the drink retains the magical ability to change form AFTER IT HAS BEEN ORDERED AND BOUGHT. It is a web-based goblet of liquid that transmogrifies upon the winner asserting his or her will. Yes, I just got all geeky on ten dollars sent via PayPal. Pay no attention to the rogue behind the curtain.

Without further ado, I give you: Bad Journalism Pun Jokes.

Our First Contestant: Kelly of Maximum Customer Experience

Kelly wins points for not only being the first person to make a joke, but by sending me a link to Cover Letters From Hell, giving a nod to Pheonix Way, and referencing both lederhosen and a cloak of invisibility. She also entered this contest twice, giving her two shots at the title. Starting off strong. Kelly’s two entries are:

“Okay, so the other day I walk past a solid-body on Pheonix Way, getting a nice kicker out of scratching his nut graf right through his lederhosen…”

“There’s a reason for the cloak of invisibility. Maybe they’re each afraid their nut graf isn’t quite the kicker it’s supposed to be.”

Our Second Contestant: Janice Cartier of Painting a Day

Janice gets points for picking up on the storytelling vibe not once, but twice, and contributing to the ongoing tale of our beloved Lusty Weevil. She also used all four of the given words, and gets extra credit for her creative use of the word ‘lede’. (Note: the Rogue does not advocate Coors, lede or otherwise.) She also entered twice (sort of) by getting into the swing and using ‘nut graf’ as an expletive, which tickled the Rogue, and incorporated the phrase ’shaking the salmon’. Janice’s entries are as follows:

“Harrison enters the pub…’Walk this way, walk this way”…. a swagger in his kicker, he tosses a fresh tie die to Brett, some jeans. “Ladies getting rowdy again?” Brett, grabs the tee out of the air, puts on the pants. “Nothing I can’t handle, bro”. One solid body follows the other over to the bar as every female eye in the place follows. “Two Coors lede, barkeep.” The Viking hands one to his friend. They turn and look around, survey all Tei’s friends, ” Ahhhh, nut graf, just the way we like’ em.” “Could get kind of messy”….”Ahhh, we’ll mop it up.”

“Allison, seriously, hold the blade right there. And quit shaking the salmon, Every nut graf in the universe will be calling you up.”

Our Third Contestant: Wendi Kelly of Life’s Little Inspirations.

Wendi gets points for using the word naked many times over, for mentioning viking hats and bravely making the first undeniably sexual visual of the night. Bonus for referencing bestiality. Go, Wendi. We didn’t know you had it in you.

“OMG! Now Brett is naked, naked naked.

oh wait…now he has a viking hat hanging from his lede on his solid body.

Um..Brett watch out for those horns, there is a mis-behaved dog jostling things around in here. You don’t want to get a kicker in your nut graf.”

Our Third Contestant: Rebecca Smith of Smithwriting

Rebecca gets points for using all four of the words in a single trail of thought, as well as using the word ‘nut graf’ as what sounds like a painful medical problem. Also, for being the only person to go for the obvious pun on ‘lede’. Her entry also references collegiate sex, of which I have fond memories. Her entry:

Rebecca Smith: “I dated this guy in college who had a real solid body, but here’s the kicker: He had a nut graf. Funny, he still ledes the pack of my ex-boyfriends …”

Our Fourth Contestant: Matt Tuley of This Laptop for Hire

Matt gets points for defending his own nut graf. However, he has unfortunately disqualified himself by tagging me in a meme for which Brett had already tagged me, leaving me to come up with sixteen MORE random facts about myself that I have not already referenced at the Lusty Weevil. And since this pub is a ball of random, that takes some doing. Extra work for Tei = no soup for Matt. Here’s his entry anyway:

Matt Tuley: “I knew a guy once had to get a nut graf. Was out of commission for a week. There, but for the grace of God…”

Our Fifth Contestant: Karen JL of Storyboard Blog

Karen started off crazy strong, by referencing a comment I made, talking about booze, giving all the journalism words creative alcohol-related references and inventing what sounds like the best Writer’s Brew ever. Unfortunately, Karen went and shot herself in the foot by claiming Aquarians rock more than Sagittarians. With totally unjust prejudice from the judges, she too is disqualified. Here’s her recipe for Writer’s Brew though:

“Yes, fresh booze all day long. BUT when you get here early, you get to give the keg a good little kicker, which gives the lede a solid body and you get lots of head on your nut graf. Mmmm…”

AND THE WINNER IS:

Brett Legree, in a surprise Pingback entry.

Brett wins for the following reasons:

He took the lede by dragging the game on over to his own blog, where he referenced his very own nut graf, a bold move no other contestant took. The kicker? He offered up a solid body with nut graf on full view. In a shocking turn of events, the pornographic entry wins the favor of the judges. Brett, send me your PayPal address. I’m buying you a beer.

And a tablecloth. That peanut bowl is see-through. It’s like covering yourself up with a giant magnifying glass.

Unless that was the point.

Subscribe. It only gets better.

May 8, 2008

Bloody Hell, or Why Rogue Ink is Not a Business Blog

My mother finally got around to coming over to my blog (she claims I never sent her a link, but she lies. She lied when she told me I couldn’t have a cupcake, too. She is an excellent liar when she chooses to be. Where do you think I learned the roguish tendencies?). She’s also a marketing expert, so the very first thing she did after she told me she loves my writing (because the mom gene comes first) was send me an itemized list of questions and critiques. Number one on this list - yes, she numbered this list - was:

1. Why swear or use off-color language when your clients (and mother) might read them and be put-off?

It took me awhile to answer this question, but I can almost guarantee the next nine words are going to make my poor mom sorry she asked it.

This Blog is Not My Business. It’s My Pub.

Here’s how I think about it. My business, Good Ink, is my place of work. Actually ‘place of work’ sounds awfully hoity-toity. It’s my office. It’s my nose-grinder. It’s the place with the flourescent lights and the water cooler and that accounting guy who picks his nose in front of you. I spend my whole day there, and I like my work, but when I’m done, I am done.

This blog, Rogue Ink, is the pub I go to after work. It’s where all my buddies are, where other people who work hard all day can hang out and commiserate. Brett Legree is here in his kilt and Naomi Dunford is mocking him about it, and Bob Younce is here talking stuff over with James Chartrand, and I am trying to say something funny enough to get Sandie Law to snort something out of her nose. There are a couple new guys here too, and we’re going to make them play darts later, and they don’t even know it.

If a client comes on into the bar, that’s great, and I will probably offer to buy that client a beer. By and large, I really like my clients, and I am thoroughly psyched if my client wants to come and hang out at my blog. However, I do not expect that client to be shocked that I said the word ‘hell’ to the barkeep while ordering him his drink. We are no longer in the office. We are at the pub. We’re going to tell stories and shoot the breeze and talk about other things than business. Later there’s going to be a pinata and a reggae band and Wendi Kelly and Matt Tuley will sing karaoke duets. It will be awesome.

That Damned Polonius Quote Again

This is all Harrison’s fault. “To thine own self be true,” he said, but he also said this, and I liked this better: “The thing is, this is your personality. If you try to fit your site/blog into something you’re not, it will show through and no amount of sprucing up will help you with that inconsistency.

He is right. I am a funny, funny chick. I make people laugh. I get my client’s voices because I like talking to them, finding out about them, and I like knowing what cracks them up. If they want to hire a copywriter who really gets them and can also handle the professional part of meeting deadlines and marketing strategically, they have found their woman. If they want someone who never says a word stronger than ‘darn’ and would faint at the very idea of an off-color pun, they should hire someone else. I will refer them myself. I don’t want those people unhappy. If I can’t make them happy, I will send them to someone who can.

I can make an awful lot of people happy, though. I know. I’ve tried.

There’s Nothing For ‘Em Here

Mitch Hedberg tells a good story. I like this one: “I was in downtown Boise Idaho and I saw a duck. I knew the duck was lost, because ducks aren’t supposed to be downtown. There’s nothing for ‘em there.” True. There’s nothing for ducks in downtown Boise, Idaho. And there is nothing for clients seeking posts on copywriting at Rogue Ink.

I know there’s a possibility clients may come around the blog just looking for useful information and articles on copywriting. I am sorry to tell them we do not offer that service at this pub. We offer useful information and articles, made to deliver, all day long at Good Ink. Here at the pub we mostly tell jokes about weevil sex and make fun of bad grammar. Sometimes we touch on copywriting, but it is bounded by jokes about being broke and frosted with rants about cheese, and I am pretty sure they were looking for something more straightforward than that.

I know that it may take them awhile to figure this out, because other blogs often have useful information, and they are not yet aware that we don’t play by the books over here at the Rogue Ink pub. And while they are figuring it out, it is possible they might see a bad word. So I will probably, when the website is up and running, have something right at the top of the blog that indicates this is not a Shop O’ Useful Copywriting Tips. It is a Pub O’ Awesomely Random. And if the client is still down to hear all about that, he should pull up a stool.

Aretha Knows What’s Up

Respect goes a long, long way. I’m not going to curse at my clients just to make them upset. I’m actually not going to curse at anyone to make them upset. Very frequently, though, I cuss not because I am being offensive or mean (unless we are talking about Hitler again), but because I am really freakin’ excited. I have noticed this rubs off on my commenters, too, and that’s great. When a commenter tells me a post I’ve written on here was fucking awesome, I expect a client to know that this not cause for alarm. This is actually good for them. People do not get that psyched about mediocre writing. If my writing can inspire a delighted oath or two, that is also - if I may use the term - fucking awesome. My clients are savvy people. They know from complimentary cursing.

I respect my clients. I respect that some of them are made uncomfortable by off-color language in their business affairs. I respect that, and I promise I won’t do it around them when we’re talking business. Since I have a pretty good radar for that sort of thing, I will probably even anticipate it before it becomes an issue. No one need ever worry about going to my website, hiring me for a gig, and having me make them uncomfortable. They might need to worry a teeny bit about me knocking their socks off, but that is okay. I will buy them new socks. It’s part of the package deal.

Those clients who don’t want to see me when I’m off duty over here at Rogue Ink absolutely do not have to. I won’t treat them any differently and I certainly won’t work for them any less hard. If they want to see only my professional side, that is okay with me. I personally feel my rogue side is equally awesome, especially because it wears leather and throws knives more often, but all do not share my tastes, and I respect that. I’ll meet those clients at the office in the morning. I’ll have their first draft ready for them.

What Happened to Mom?

I read her, verbatim, with all the cuss words in it, Naomi’s post from yesterday. And she laughed so hard she choked on a hiccup.

Tune in tomorrow and I’ll tell you why the Rogue Ink pub is a different kind of blog, and why you should all hang out in it and play darts. It’s going to be revolutionary - my first blog post written in advance. I actually feel a little faint.

Subscribe if you believe in rogues. It’s the only way to save me.

May 6, 2008

Out of Context: The Hat

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 7:14 pm
Tags: ,

“That hat is making my shoes hurt.”

I thought the chick who said this was nuts, but I looked, and she was absolutely right. That hat made ALL of me hurt. Shoes and everything.

April 26, 2008

Dandelion Hunting

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 4:18 am

This is completely unrelated to anything, but I figure it’s a weekend, so we could all use a break. Also, I can PRETEND it’s related, at the very end, but you’ll have to stick around. That’s what I’ll do. This is all a business analogy. Are we ready? Go.

I have a dear friend. The one who brought me sausage. He’s currently in Florida, teaching gym class to small children (I have no idea, please don’t ask, or I will be forced to admit my ignorance). His girlfriend is here, in Boulder. And it’s her birthday this weekend.

Now, this friend, along with his awesome sausage-bringing tendencies, is also a pretty rockin’ boyfriend and would be here celebrating with said girlfriend if he had anything to say about it. Unfortunately, he doesn’t. He has nothing to say about it. For purposes of being able to dictate his whereabouts, he is a deaf-mute with no hands. He tried to plan a whole surprise for her in advance, asking me if I’d take her to dinner on him and, because this girlfriend loves dandelions, picking a couple thousand dandelions. 7,300 dandelions, to be precise. One for each day of her life.

Because he couldn’t have done years, or months, or something. That would have been too easy. Our boy knows that if you really want to show you love a girl, you have to near kill yourself. And a couple thousand plants.

Seven thousand, three hundred dandelions rotted in his fridge about four days ago, just after he left. He was heartbroken. And he was in Florida.

So tomorrow, instead of working, I’m going out to pick dandelions.

Here’s where we pretend this is related.

If you do over-the-top shit for your clients the same way my friend does for his gal, they will love you forever. Or at least, that’s what she swears happens.

She better love him forever. That’s a ton of dandelions.

See you tomorrow. May you, too, skip work and gather flowers.

I was going to try to put an image up, but I can’t figure out how to wrap text in WordPress and it’s been damn near an hour. Save me, Men with Pens!

April 11, 2008

Out of Context: Weevil Sex

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 9:49 am

“A bean weevil has the most painful sex known to weevils. The male bean weevil has a barbed penis, to the extent that the female bean weevil dies of internal hemorrhaging shortly after intercourse. Just before she shits out a handful of eggs.”

“You’re just full of dark little fun facts, aren’t you?”

April 6, 2008

Out of Context: The Lumberjack

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 3:27 pm
Tags: ,

Large manly lumberjack type: “You know, sometimes there are just days when a man has to stand alone.”

::looooooong pause::

Large manly lumberjack type’s faithful companion: “Like . . . the cheese?”

Bless you, faithful companion. Those lumberjack types sometimes get a little too existential for their own good.

April 1, 2008

Out of Context: The Book

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 5:19 am
Tags: ,

“I can read that girl like an open book, and that book is saying, I don’t even know I’m a book.”

March 31, 2008

Out of Context: The Friend Problem

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 4:54 pm
Tags: ,

“I’ve been having a lot of problems with my psychic friends lately.”

I’m sure we can all relate to this poor woman’s plight. Unlike that whole book compatibility issue.

March 21, 2008

Out of Context: The Job Interview

Filed under: Out of Context — Tei @ 5:32 pm
Tags: ,

Young kid, wearing tie, on interview: So, what exactly does your company do?

Interviewer: Well, as the Water Company, we provide water.

Do you now. Fascinating. Carry on.

Next Page »

Blog at WordPress.com.