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When
I’m reading, editing or critiquing others’ work, improperly
deployed participles are a pet peeve. I’m utterly incapable of
ignoring them. Other readers notice comma confusions, tangled tenses,
or missing modifiers. They might be especially sensitive to excessive
alliteration. I can sail past a lot of nits without noticing, but an
incorrectly constructed participle modifier will jump out at me like
raincoat-clad pervert from behind a tree.
I
know grammatical terms make a lot of people wince, so let me give you
some examples from recent reads:
a) No longer aware of her physical surroundings, uncaring of the others watching them, he had become her world.
b) Nearly blinded, instinctively, Callie's hand went for the gun in her purse.
c) Measuring the length of his dick still waiting to ravage her burning cunt, Nina's eyes flew open.
Here
are a few simpler, synthetic examples:
d) Panting with excitement, her heart pounded like a bass drum in her chest.
e) Entering the room unannounced, Joel’s attention flew to the naked woman sprawled on the couch.
f) Silenced by embarrassment, my cheeks flushed bright red.
I
know some of you are probably thinking: What’s the problem? These
are perfectly fine sentences. The meaning is crystal clear.
I
beg to differ. The author’s intent is clear in most cases.
However, if you apply the conventional rules of English to
interpreting these sentences, you end up drawing some strange, even
nonsensical conclusions. Silent cheeks? A blinded hand?
The
complexities of English grammatical structures are the bane of many.
There are dozens of different ways to express the same idea. A single
sentence may consist of many clauses as well as modifying phrases.
In
the face of this complexity, we fall back on the principle of
proximity. When you have a modifier, that is, a phrase that describes
some entity in the main clause of the sentence, we assume that the
modifier is describing the subject of the main clause, which normally
follows right after the modifier.
If
the modifier is a participle (that is, a verb turned into an
adjective by adding “ing” or “ed”), it is assumed that the
implied subject of this verb is the subject of the following clause.
Here’s
the crux of the issue in the ungrammatical sentences above. If we
follow this convention in our interpretation, the results are silly
or confusing.
In
a), both the adjective (“no longer aware”) and participle
(“uncaring”) modifiers clearly have a female subject. Yet the
subject of the main clause is “he” - not the person who’s
“uncaring”.
In
b) the conventional rules would indicate that Callie’s hand was
blinded.
Example
c) is a bit more nuanced, since Nina’s eyes might well be what she
used to estimate the length of her partner’s cock. More likely
though, the true subject of “measuring” is Nina herself – not
her eyes as suggested by the interpretation rules.
The
three synthetic examples make the problem more obvious. In each case,
the real subject is a person, while the implied subject is a part or
aspect of the person.
Now
at this point, you might be thinking: who cares?
Well,
that’s your right. However, when I encounter this sort of
ungrammatical construction, even in an otherwise well-written story,
I cringe. Furthermore, my opinion of the author’s skill declines a
bit. Perhaps that’s not fair, but I expect serious authors to be
conscious of the rules of the language – implicitly if not
explicitly.
Elitist?
Maybe. However, I can’t help my reactions. I suspect I’m not the
only reader who feels this way.
So
– assuming you’re editing your tale, and notice one of these
errors – what can you do about it?
There
are three basic solutions:
1)
Change the subject in the independent clause to match the modifier;
2)
Expand the modifier into a clause that explicitly specifies a subject
(which can then be different from the independent clause);
3)
Make the modifying clause into a separate sentence.
Let’s
look at example (b) and apply each of these solutions.
Solution 1: Nearly blinded, Callie instinctively reached for the gun in her purse.
Solution 2: As the flash nearly blinded her, Callie's hand instinctively went for the gun in her purse.
Solution 3: The flash nearly blinded her. Instinctively, Callie’s hand went for the gun in her purse.
The
best revision depends on stylistic concerns, as well as on the
specific sentence. For example (a), I think the sentence should be
split, since the subject of the modifiers and of the main clause are
totally different.
She was no longer aware of her physical surroundings, uncaring of the others watching them. He had become her world.
In
addition to fixing the grammar problem, this revision (I feel)
increases the impact of the sentences.
If
you’re willing to admit that this sort of construction is a
problem, how can you improve your ability to notice your own errors?
Alas,
we’re all somewhat blind to our own faults. You can begin, though,
by becoming more conscious of your choices when framing a sentence.
Should you use a modifying phrase at the start of a sentence? A
dependent clause? Would your ideas be better expressed by splitting
the thought into two sentences?
Normally
people use modifying phrases like this to convey a relationship. When
you use a participle, you are implying a temporal relationship. A
present participle (“ing”) indicates two concurrent actions. For
instance, Joel noticed the naked woman on the couch at the same time
as he entered the room. A past participle (“ed”, or “en” for
some verbs) suggests sequential actions. A flash blinded Callie, then
she instinctively reached for her gun.
Be
sure that this implied temporal relationship makes sense, and is what
you really want to convey.
You
probably should not try to think about this sort of issue when you’re
writing your first draft, or you’ll get bogged down. However
sentence structure alternatives should be one of your considerations
when you’re self-editing.
Of
course, the best approach may be to have someone else read and
critique your stories, helping to shine light on your blind spots.
You can offer the same service to someone else, since their
weaknesses are likely to differ from yours.
2 comments:
Phew! Color me majorly-relieved that none of the examples you used were from a book of mine! I've taught grammar for many years, and even so, I've been learning more about writing from every editor who has ever gone through my books. So yes, we are usually blind to our own foibles.
We all have our issues, as well as our pet peeves. For some reason, this is one type of error that grabs my attention every time.
And I've never noticed it in one of your books...!
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