Me and him are not compatible.

I really don’t like bratwurst. I also don’t like cruises, although admittedly I’ve never been on one … the idea just creeps me out for some reason.

But I really don’t like hearing professionals who start sentences with “me.” I don’t get it! How is it possible that these people have survived legitimately by saying, “Me and him have been talking, and we think…”?

I’d have to interrupt someone, just to say something like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m going to have to stop you right there. Sadly, we aren’t going to be able to work together.”

It’s like nails on a chalkboard, man! C’mon already!

It’s one of the earliest things I remember learning from my mom; she, correcting me time and time again. Me, being seven and finally succumbing to using the proper subject, “I,” instead. C’est la vie.

I wish she taught everyone.

Legitimacy amid the accessibility of voice concept

Which of the following sentences is correct?

• Every user must provide their contact information in order to comment.
• Every user must provide his or her contact information in order to comment.

Both? Nope. You thought it was a trick question, but it wasn’t. Ha! Nice try.

The second sentence is correct because the word “every” is single, just like “his” or “her.” “Their” is plural. You know this, I’m sure, but when you construct a sentence, your knowledge doesn’t always translate. Especially when the web world – and beyond – so blatantly and regularly tramples on English rules. (And especially because you personally hate it when people use “his or her” instead of “their.” But we can find ways around that – being grammatically incorrect isn’t one of them, though.)

I can hear you asking, “Seriously, who cares? If I offer a perfect business solution, I doubt a typo will keep someone from buying my product.”

You’re probably right. But I’m talking about one thing: Your legitimacy. If you don’t take the time to spell something correctly, what tells the consumer that you’ll take the time to make sure your product is flawless?

One and a half million new college graduates jump into the “real world” each year. Business as a major leads the pack; however, according to the Department of Education’s National Center for Education Statistics, the number of communications and journalism degrees conferred has increased by more than 20 percent from 1999-2005. You could say this is relatively minor compared to the trend of a 53 percent increase in computer science and technical degrees during the internet boom from 1994-2000, which was then followed by 10 percent drop from 2000-2005.

But, a trend I find particularly fascinating about writing and the rise of the web is that 20,000 more English degrees are conferred today that twenty years ago – when the web was just an infant being parented by the juggernauts of traditional print media.

So you might argue, “Well, the number of students experiencing post-secondary education has risen likewise.” And you’d be right. But I’d posit that it’s mostly relative, and what we’re really seeing is a surge in what I’m calling The Accessibility of Voice: a concept that the web offers anyone.

Here’s the gist: It’s attractive and tangible, and it can be the sole difference between credibility and crap. Because the web lets anyone be an authority with the correct tone and voice, you have to work extra hard to establish yourself as a leader.

So, even if you think the majority of people won’t punish you for a typo or a grammatical error, you cannot forget the minority of users who actually paid attention to Mrs. Rider back in third grade. Crazy, I know. But still, they exist, and they are among the people you’re trying to engage. And they can’t be engaged when the accessibility of voice concept already pollutes the web to the point that they can’t distinguish your legitimacy.

Go the extra mile to ensure your voice is credible and, well, correct in the eyes of these English freaks. It’s just one way to step beyond the din of the masses.

Readers will only reward you for paying attention to the details.

Comma, queen

Similar to the Dancing Queen. Or a Drama Queen, maybe.

I love commas. Really, if I could marry them, I probably would. I have a problem with them; it’s like an addiction. A love affair.

Are they appropriate in every situation, definitely not. Depending on the type of writing, they can range from helpful, to annoying, to just plan egregious. I write (not as often as I’d like, but often enough) for a web site, and I write on my own blog. These are two completely different styles of writing.

My very wise former-editor turned best friend (because who doesn’t want your editor to be your best friend?) once told me that in news-style writing you never want to stop the reader. Commas are like stop signs. Or at the very least, a yellow light. Time to take a breath. In personal writing, fiction, etc., commas are okay I guess, because they can add something unique to the narrative voice.

I happen to love commas, and stuff them in anywhere I can make even the weakest case for them in my writing. I don’t know why. And I’m not even sure what this says about me (and my writing). Do I need the pauses in my writing so the reader can catch up to me and my crazy thought process? Possibly. But I don’t think that is necessarily a bad thing.

I know better than to cram commas into my web writing for work. First, we use a combination of AP style (news writing) and an in-house style anyway, so commas are practically outlawed to begin with. And second, I generally don’t know enough about the military health care system, military benefits or legislation to rewrite anything anyway. A misplaced comma in that situation could change the meaning enough that someone could lose out on an important health benefit or piece of information. Because of MY comma!

However, while I am well aware that commas have a time and a place in writing, I am still having a love affair with them– and I can’t get enough. The emphasis they add, and the tone that they lend, is, I think, what I’m looking for in my blog voice. (What’s the record for comma-to-words per sentence ratio?) I speak fast, and those of you who know me can vouch for that. My commas are like helper monkeys; they remind me (and the reader) to stop every once in a while to enjoy the leisure of language.

On defending incorrect usage, I say: *You’re* bonkers

As a lover of the English language, I have a hard time swallowing the fact that people my age (or any age beyond 10) don’t know the difference between your and you’re. I feel like of all the words regularly confused — its and it’s; their, there and they’re — the difference between your and you’re is easiest to keep straight. Maybe I’m wrong.

But that’s neither here nor there.

The breakdown:

• You’re = You are. “I think you’re swell.”
• Your = NOT you are. (The possessive, instead.) “I like your swellness.*”

I become Hulk-style enraged when people try to defend themselves if I point out a mis-use — as if in some way it’s justified that they don’t know basic English rules, or that I’m out of line for explaining its correct usage. (Yes, I point it out. I’m not ashamed to help people look smarter.)

I told a pal recently that she’d used your incorrectly in an email to a potential date she’d found on match.com. She retorted, “Sorry … I’m not an English major!” I was stunned. Firstly, because I’ve told her the difference a trillion times (and she works in the schools, so I feel like it’s my civic duty). But, secondly, because she thought only an English major would know this distinction. It’s just like learning 2+2=4. Sure, we all have our talents, and maybe English wasn’t your best subject, but this is just a fact, man. (Or, in this case, woman.)

She went on to say that if any potential mate judged her on grammar, she wouldn’t want to date him anyway. I tried to explain it’s the little things that distract people and can damage credibility — whether through a dating site or when applying for a job or even writing web copy. Unless you’re communicating with someone who doesn’t know the differences, either. Then, you’re golden.

I see errors everywhere from Facebook walls to Twitter messages to emails. Because it’s correctable, it boggles my mind that people don’t just take the extra 10 seconds to make sure they’re straight with their writing. I mean, we all make mistakes. But defending laziness is just bonkers.

* I made up this word for illustrative purposes. Sue me. Please don’t.

Your site, your résumé, your credibility

Word on the street is that a hiring manager will toss résumés that contain even a single typo. Why is that? (It’s so unfair! Why not check out my inspiring design portfolio or my mind-blowing code? THAT’S where I really shine!)

Well, sure, that work communicates to your specialty. But take a step back – more generally speaking, typos send the message that you don’t care about the details. Maybe you don’t. But own up to it and capitalize on the wealth of options out there to ensure you – and your CV or website – aren’t immediately relegated to the trash bin.

It’s not hard, and the rewards are limitless. I mean, how often do you find typos or grammatical errors and immediately think, “Well, this site was cool until the writer used ‘your’ instead of ‘you’re.’” (Never? Oh, maybe that’s just me. And millions of other users who specialized in English or journalism.)

Don’t assume your writers appreciate fancy graphics more than basic spelling and grammar. Give your writing to an editor you know and trust. What’s the worst that could happen? Critique? Stronger copy to support your brand? Demonstrating to someone else that you don’t know the difference between “its” and “it’s?”

WHO CARES!? Wouldn’t you like to have one of your friends, staffers, or contracting partners know that you can’t write rather than lose money and credibility over it? Of course you would! And it’s oh so simple. Run spell-check. It takes, what, 30 seconds, maybe? Then give it to someone to read. Having a fresh set of eyes look over your content can make all the difference.

Finally, give it to at least one other person. Maybe someone (like me) who tends annoyingly to correct others’ grammar mid-sentence. Or any copywriter worth her sand. This person won’t just fix common grammatical errors, but, more importantly, she’ll likely suggest changes that ultimately make your content even more credible to the trained eye.

With nothing to lose and everything to gain — as always — pay attention to your content!

Utilize: Not the same as “use”

I often hear “utilize” and “use” being used interchangeably. (Yes, it’s a pet peeve of mine. Most people probably don’t know the difference. But I do, and this is my blog, so it’s ultra important to me.)

Somewhere in history, “utilize” was equated as the more sophisticated form of “use.” This is false. And, in fact, because it’s used incorrectly, it actually makes people sound much, much less sophisticated.

Take heed! Only say “utilize” if you’re using something outside of its intended purpose. For instance, if I grab a flathead screwdriver to open a paint can, then i’m utilizing that screwdriver. I’m taking a tool made for tightening and loosening a particular type of screw, and jamming it under the lid of an aluminum can.

I may be among the only people alive fighting against the inappropriate use of the word “utilize,” but I just can’t help myself. Leading the charge for “use,” FTW!

Ok; Not lame … but not really awesome, either

I’ll be honest. I use exclamation points. I like them. They convey emotion. Sometimes they are unnecessary.

Like right now!!!!!

But when I see them in what otherwise is a fantastic site, it’s distracting. So are attempts at being witty that fall short because, well, they’re obviously forced.

We went over a site today that’s used primarily to gather information. We use it to share feedback internally. You can build forms with drag-and-drop ease, and the interface is fun and friendly.

The language throughout the site? Eh, not so much.

Instead of being lame by paying zero attention to writing engaging copy, they jumped to the other extreme: ULTRA WITTY. Which potentially is equally annoying to a user.

So, anyway, today we were getting a tutorial on the site and I kept noticing the company’s location in the footer — Tampa, FL! Yes, it’s written that way, distracting me with its exclamation point. When I brought it up, two other colleagues immediately said they’d noticed, too. And not in a “Aww cute. That’s endearing” kind of way. Just purely distracting.

Same with the quotes they throw in to sound unique — perhaps “cultured” — which, again, are attempts at giving the company a voice that I find to miss the mark.

We want the user experience to be seamless and enjoyable. Just like NOT infusing your voice and personality to the user can ultimately fail to leave any impression, going over the top — like the one-upper no one likes, or the uber snooty funny gal that people cringe to be around — will land you in the same boat.

Even though the copy is a bit off-key, the fact that the site is so marvelous otherwise more than makes up for the quirky (but arguably counter-productive) content sprinkled throughout.

In this case of voice, I’d recommend revisiting the concept of “less is more.”

Don’t be lame

Spend all of your time and money on a robust infrastructure to support the gorgeous, sifr-filled design for your new website, then attack the content when it’s all over. What’s that leave you? A brilliant site with copy that reads like an afterthought – because it was. What gives?

Sometimes, it’s the little things that Mrs. Rider taught you in third grade English that attract your attention – in a negative way. And I’m not just talking about that “About Us” paragraph on your homepage, or the more illustrious (and even more boring) “History” page content.

I’m talking about what happens when your expensive development and cutting-edge design suddenly aren’t working so seamlessly for the user. I’m much more forgiving when I find a broken page that reads, “Oops! We really jacked up something – the next time you come back, we’ll have fixed this problem. If not, please email us and we’ll try even harder,” instead of “Error. This page does not exist.”

Clearly.

The point is, even in the most unlikely of places, infusing your voice to create an engaging user experience with smartly crafted copy can elicit feelings – and actions – that you ultimately want your users to act upon. They’ll acknowledge that you’re human, you’re trying hard to make your site amazing, and that you’re engaged in trying to get them to come back for more.

Give your copywriters a chance to shine. Or give other copywriters a chance to help you shine. But, most of all, let others read and react to your copy before assuming it’s ready for the public’s eyes. When you don’t, you’re basically saying, “I don’t pay attention to details like this one!”

They’ll respond by bouncing permanently.

You’ve generally got one chance to entice users. Make sure the voice being conveyed isn’t lame.

Seriously good speech writing (at only 26! Gasp!)

Jon Favreau is inspiring. He is the 26-year-old head speech writer for Obama. Yes, 26. Head writer. How monstrously cool is that? I’ll tell you: very monstrously cool.

After the New Hampshire and then South Carolina primaries, columns and blogs nationwide gaggled about the power of Obama’s words. Some accuse him of ripping off lines from Hollywood movies (that were supposedly torn from real political speeches). Hillary Clinton has been accused of modifying some of Obama’s speeches to suit her campaign. It’s all up for debate, and that’s not my point.

Here’s my point: speech writing is a tremendously powerful and overwhelmingly hidden art form. I mean, think about it. Bloggers and columnists and analysts alike are scrutinizing “Obama’s” speeches. Sure, those speeches have his stamp of approval. But guess where they came from?

A dude named Jon.

Favreau’s words are forming the basis for many arguments in the heated political arena. Imagine knowing you’re so incredibly successful in eliciting emotions from people through your art that you can do it almost anonymously; having never to answer to the critics, knowing someone else is the medium to your messages. And owning that medium’s voice so that it blends almost seamlessly with your writing, of course.

Ah yes, old McLuhan’s “medium is the message” bit. But honestly, the delivery is absolutely crucial to conveying the emotions that writers impregnate speeches with.

Take me, for example. One take-away I was sure listeners at a commencement several years ago would remember was a new acronym for iPod I contrived. The lead-in was something like,

“If only you could keep everything you’ve experienced in college on your iPod,” pause for laughter (which came swiftly. Score!). Then some additional filler before subscribing new meaning to the term iPod: “Innovation and Persistence Overcome Difficulties.”

Brilliant! Except the dean with his heavy Italian accent pronounced difficulties, “dee-fee-kuhl-teez.” No one understood him. I think I actually heard someone ask, “Did he just say feces?”

So much for mastering my medium.

It’s sometimes easy to forget — especially when coming from a charismatic, larger-than-life figure who happens to be running for President of the United States — that the words had to be written before they ever could be spoken.

Good writing resonates and elicits feelings. A medium considerate of the message is crucial. By marrying the two successfully, listeners can be transformed from passive spectators to actively engaged participants. As a writer, this synergy is ridiculously inspiring.

Way to go American Eagle!

Here, you see Rob Soulé. He’s sporting a sweatshirt that’s perfect for a super cold, gray day here outside the nation’s capital.

However, it’s not perfect.

Track and Filed? What sport is that?

C’mon American Eagle. You can do better than this. Can’t you?