Deep Grammar

Grammar was never invented to separate people “in the know” from the rest of us or to keep teachers and proofreaders in a work. In fact it, was never “invented”. It is intrinsic to language and fundamental for communication.

A new piece of research, published in the May 8 issue of the Journal of Neuroscience, suggests that bad grammar is not only noticed by the English teacher or the pedant in the office but also at a neurological level by your bog-standard brain – yes, YOUR brain (and mine).

Laura Batterink, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Oregon, recorded event-related brain potentials (ERPs) as study participants were presented with sentences, some containing grammar errors. In the majority of cases, subjects processed the errors without awareness.

Participants in a study were presented with short sentences, one word at a time, and their brain activity was monitored using a non-invasive technique. A mixture of good and bad sentences were used and the participants were asked to mark them correct or incorrect as well as to respond to an auditory tone that was played at some point while they were reading each sentence. Thus their awareness (of errors and tones) could be checked against actual brain activity.

When it was all shuggled out, the results showed brains responding to errors even when the participants did not register their awareness of them. The brain appears to pick up and correct errors of syntax without us noticing. However, this unconscious process demands neurological resources.

English: Illustration to the poem Jabberwocky....

The Jabberwocky – Sir John Tenniel (1820-1914)

Helen J. Neville, one of the paper’s co-authors from the University of Oregon, points out that children often pick up grammar rules implicitly through routine daily interactions with parents or peers, simply hearing and processing new words and their usage before any formal instruction. This has implications for second language acquisition; grammar should be taught implicitly, without semantics. In other words, she suggests that nonsense poems, such as Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky”, are ideal material for this approach – syntactically sound, yet virtually meaningless.

For me, this research underlines the importance of syntax, and word order in particular. The logical flow of a sentence should be such that the reader does not have to re-read it (consciously or unconsciously). I find that about 30% of my editorial tweaking tackles this issue.

I often recommend that people who want to improve their writing read as much good copy as they can, in order to internalise the language; read their own writing out loud, to hear how it works; lead the reader by the hand, making sure that the meaning stands out from the surrounding qualifiers; and assume that if their meaning can possibly be misconstrued, then it will be.

Links:
Audio: Study summary by Laura Batterink: http://bit.ly/13FRBmC
Institute of Neuroscience: http://uoneuro.uoregon.edu/ionmain/htdocs/index.html
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More UO Science/Research News: http://uoresearch.uoregon.edu

Grammar Patrol

I am ashamed to admit that I found a copy error on the back of the  business cards I have been using for the last three years. When I started freelancing in 2010, I didn’t know how to use a colon. At worst, dodgy copy makes things downright confusing for the reader: at best, it makes you look like a numpty – especially when you are selling your writing and editing skills.

Here is the offending item:

business card

I’m always recommending that people don’t use a colon to introduce a list in this way. It is unnecessary and it often leads to confusing sentences. I think that must be the reasoning behind the fact that it is plain wrong. Nevertheless, this use is extremely common. If you want to go for an “A” grade, make sure that what precedes the colon is a proper sentence. Yes I’ve just re-ordered my cards with a rewritten blurb; that colon cost me £20.

So, having admitted one of my many faults, am I permitted to share a giggle over some other people’s, from my collection?

This invokes visions of staff swinging into the toilet, Tarzan style, on the disabled alarm cord (and possibly landing with a splash of toilet water).

27-WP_000416

Here is some classic apostrophe abuse, compounded by inconsistency. If there are Coffee’s, why aren’t there also Tea’s, Breakfast’s, Cocktail’s, Wine’s, Spirit’s and Beer’s?

IMG_0111a

I was very disappointed that I didn’t see any old vehicles being smashed at the museum in Alston; I wouldn’t mind smashing a few exclamation marks, though!

Grammar Patrol! Grammar Patrol ‘ten’SHUN! Turning to the right in threes disMISS! Carry on!

Improvised Word Salads: a verbal experiment

I’d like some feedback on an experiment that may grow into a project or turn out to be a blind alley.

I call these “Word Salads”. They are improvised lists of words, spoken with minimal expression. I think they should give rise to cascading imagery in the minds of listeners. Because they are improvised, they are unique phenomena, ephemeral, immediate and unpredictable.

The first example here is a “dissociated improvisation”. As with all sorts of improvisation, there must be some rule. We have all played the word association game, but this tries to be a solo word dissociation game. It is very difficult to do as I don’t think it is possible for the mind to work without association. There are probably really three or four rapid associative steps between each word. Sometimes I am aware of this happening as I grasp for the next thing to say.

Without any context, the words become quite strange, I think, but each one has the power to evoke something, like the edge of a fin appearing momentarily above the water before disappearing again.

The second example tries to tell a story of some sort. The rule of this improvisation is that a narrative is allowed to take shape, although it has not been predetermined in any way.

See what you think.

So …

Would these have any potential for performance? I think their improvisatory qualities make them exciting for the speaker if not the hearer. Are they evocative or just monotonous? Could I go anywhere with this or should I stop wasting my time?

Thinking and Creating at Ground Level: learning from a 9 year old

Watch this:

It’s no surprise, this clip has gone viral on YouTube. I don’t think we should be surprised to hear evidence that a 9 year old thinks deeply about the meaning of life and the universe. I’m prepared to take it at face value and, even if he’s repeating verbatim material from overheard adult conversations. That’s not the point I want to bring out in this post.

What is the important difference between this and a TED talk?

At a TED talk, the speaker doesn’t roll around on the floor scratch the ground, swing a baseball bat, shred twigs and stare at the sky. At some point in our development, an adult tells us,

Stop fidgeting!

Stand still!

Sit up straight!

Look at me when I’m talking to you!

Right there I think we start to lose something.

Last Autumn, I spent a total of about thirty man-hours at floor level with primary school kids. No furniture, just crayons and paper and our imaginations. I was co-authoring a storybook with them. Although I used muscles I’d forgotten I had, and I ached every night, I rediscovered the joy of creating at ground level and fidgeting incessantly, and I began to experience an awakening of creativity and a shift in perspective that I suspect had something to do with going back to a 9 year old’s way of working.

I have begun to incorporate ‘floor time’ into my creative practice. The floor is bigger than a desk and offers so much more potential for spatial interaction with ideas.

When I was about 11, I was so impressed with the idea of the ‘Bayeux Tapestry’ that I sellotaped together a long line of A4 sheets and drew the story of the stuff I was into at the time: frisbee battles, water bombs, balloon helicopters, forts with heavily defended ramparts, and various inventions such as my toothpaste-powered boat and the perpetual motion machine I was certain would make me famous. I never finished the ‘tapestry’, I just kept adding to it until it went a few times around the room.

I have never been able to dismiss my curiosity about how life might be without furniture, ever since I heard that living on the floor (eating, sleeping, learning) was the norm at Gandhi’s ashrams. In fact, for most people outside of the West, it is still a way of life.

The positive implications of floor living and fidgeting, for posture, bone and muscle, economics and energetics, are probably fruit for a few more posts. But, for now, how might some floor time benefit your creative practice?

The Leibster Award

Gillian at Skybluepinkish nominated me for a Liebster Award. The Leibster highlights up-and-coming blogs and helps to feed the content dragon. How kind! Responding to this nomination involves a lot of work, but its also rather fun. As exemplified in Gillian’s post, the lucky blogger shares 11 random facts about themselves from the endearing …

I used to make tar lollipops in the summer when the tar melted and seeped into the gutter.

… to the historic …

I have sat on John Lennon’s and Yoko Ono’s knees.

… and then answers 11 questions from the nominatorator, wherein we may discover some surprising facts:

We have 5 cats, 3 dogs, 1 parrot, 2 goldfish, 2 geese and assorted chickens.

Finally the nominee poses 11 unique questions and nominates 11 other bloggers for the award – simples!

So here goes:

11 facts about me

1. When I was 12, I wanted to be a “tree surgeon” because I thought that was someone who cares for sick trees.
2. My first bicycle was called “Froggie Moore”, after a tune by Jelly Roll Morton; my next bike was called “Amiahaz”, after a runner in the Bible; and my first car was called “Lucy”, after an early fossil hominid.
3. My grandfather played rugby for South Africa but I took up sailing in order to get out of playing rugby at school.
4. According to my media player stats, J.S. Bach wrote about 30% of what I listen to.
5. I don’t like long sleeves; they make my arms feel inhibited and I always think I’d have the advantage without them – in a fight.
6. My favourite scent is sandalwood.
7. People struggle to get my name right: I have been called Selwyn, Secombe, Semen, Simon and Sigfried in my time.
8. I prefer brandy over whiskey.
9. I didn’t like kindergarten: much to my mother’s chagrin, I upped and walked home at break time – twice.
10. There are gaps in my cultural education: I have never read ‘Harry Potter’, watched ‘Jaws’ or played ‘Angry Birds’.
11. I have a nasty scar on my right knee from tripping over a dog and landing on barbed wire when I was 12.

Questions

1. Have you ever had a dream come true? How?  … I once dreamed that I was roller-blading; it was fun so I bought some roller blades the next day.
2. What was your most serious misdemeanour at school? Were you caught?  … I wore dark glasses in a school photo; it was difficult not to be caught.
3. Do you snore? Have you ever voluntarily or involuntarily tried any cures?  … Yes, but a neti pot helps.
4. What was the last song that stuck in your head?  … The Derry Hornpipe; my brain has an internal juke box of traditional airs.
5. Tulips or daffodils? Why? …  Tulips – they seem more exotic and remind me of a happy holiday in the Netherlands.
6. Do you prefer to cook or to eat? …  On balance, I prefer to cook; I enjoy it and I like to have control over what goes in my food.
7. Are you a Townie or a Country bumpkin? Not in reality but in your heart.  … Definitely a country bumpkin – I long for the chalk downs of the South on a daily basis.
8. What is in your handbag/briefcase/rucksack/pockets right now? Chose one or more.  … At this very moment, my man-bag contains a small Moleskine notebook, a pencil case full of whiteboard markers and an egg timer; I have not unpacked it since the last workshop I gave.
9. Do you think beauty is in the eye of the beholder or are some things inherently ugly?  … The effects of violence are inherently ugly.
10. Do you have a party trick? (And what is it?)  … Cossack dancing
11. What do you do when faced with a big spider staring back at you from the bath?  … I calmly fetch a glass and a piece of card and relocate the creature to the garden.

My Questions

1. Tattoo? (Yes, no, maybe one day)
2. Have you ever collected anything a bit odd? (What was it?)
3. If you had the time and money to further your education, what would you study?
4. In the Hollywood feature film of your life, who would you like to play the title role?
5. What was the last song or piece of music you listened to?
6. If you were stuck in a lift for an hour, which historical figure would you most like to have for company?
7. What is the next book you hope to read?
8. In a house fire,which of your possessions would you most like to save (apart from the house)?
9. What would be your ultimate comfort food?
10. Where do you stand on politicians, from “I don’t vote” to “they are our only hope”?
11. Could you summarise how you see your mission in life in a single sentence? (What would it be?)

My Nominations

  1. Jess at thefilthycomma
  2. Ben at These Thoughts of Mine
  3. Emily at throughthelattice
  4. Eugene at 27th Street
  5. Tom at The Blog
  6. Aliya at Three Magical
  7. Dr J at Heart Soul Mind and Strength
  8. Matt at Confessions of an Undercover Theologian
  9. Jon at Mish-mashed Mind
  10. Kat at Pondering Pancakes
  11. John at Not Built With Hands

Going Public with Two More Audio Poems: some desolation and some adoration

Encouraged in no small way by Xe Sands, the curator of weekly audio gems at Going Public and one of the great cheerleaders among my online fellowship of creatives, I have been experimenting with sharing my poetry out loud. I have always written more for the ear than the eye, so it seems an appropriate medium for putting it out there.

For this week’s offering, I have picked a couple of poems scribbled in my teens and recently re-worked.

The first poem (Empty House) is what comes out when you read a lot of Craig Raine, you feel as if the whole world is against you and one day you come home to an empty house.

The second poem (Silver Story) is what comes out when you read a lot of the Elizabethans, you spend your weekends in your silversmithing workshop and one day you meet a beautiful woman.

More of my poetry postings can be found here.
More audio goodies can be found here.

Creativity and the Edge Effect or “Yo-Yo Ma and Monkeys”

Earlier this week (8th April), Yo-Yo Ma delivered the Nancy Hanks Lecture on Arts and Public Policy the Kennedy Centre in Washington.

He called it “Art for Life’s Sake: A Roadmap from One Citizen Musician”, and it is well worth reading the transcript or watching the talk. As he champions the cultivation of collaboration, flexibility, imagination, and innovation, his vision of the future workforce is neatly echoed by a new study from Wikia and Ipsos MediaCT called “GenZ: The Limitless Generation”, which suggests these are the very strengths that Generation Z will bring to the table.

However, when Yo-Yo Ma articulates how a biological phenomenon, “the edge effect”, applies to the arts, you can hear the rubber biting the tarmac. This is not new, but he puts it well:

“In ecology, where two ecosystems meet, such as the forest and the savannah, the point of intersection is the site of “edge effect.” In that transition zone, because of the influence the two ecological communities have on each other, you find the greatest diversity of life, as well as the greatest number of new life forms.”

In my final year as an undergraduate in Anthropology, an interest in the edge effect drove me to spend five weeks studying Cercopithecus aethiops (the vervet monkey) in the wild.

Vervet Monkey

Vervet Monkey (Via Wikipedia)

This primate is virtually ubiquitous in sub-Saharan Africa, having even adapted to urban settings in some cases. They also have one of the most complex documented “languages” or systems of calls and vocalisations of any species. I had an inkling that, in some way, the complexity of their language would be matched by a fluidity in social organisation and driven by their occupation of marginal environments (edges) and, ultimately, the physical distribution of their food.

Without boring you with the details, in grossly simplified terms, a gorilla sits around and grunts a lot because most of his food is the same and in the same place. He also has a rigid social structure that has to do with who gets to sit in the middle, eat the good stuff and who defends the territory. The vervet, on the other hand, exploits a huge variety of foods, distributed almost randomly in a marginal environment with lots of space in between. He has to have a language to talk to his tribe fifty meters away and tell them where the good stuff is (or the bad stuff, like predators or anthropologists). He also doesn’t benefit hugely from eating in the same tree as everyone else, so social structure is more “easy-come-easy-go”.

Why does this matter? I asked myself that a few hundred times as I tried to follow the critters for hours through dense bush on mosquito-bitten legs. But it seems likely that innovations, such as language and walking upright, happened under very similar circumstances in the mysterious pre-prehistory of our own species.

Back to the Kennedy centre …

Ma brings on a series of artistes to illustrate the edge effect. What does it look like, for instance, when Lil’ Buck performs his own street-forged dance moves to “The Swan” by Saint-Saens?

He then points out that the pianist on stage with him, Cristina Pato, is also Cristina Pato the bagpipe player from Galicia, a member of the Silk Road Ensemble, who just released her first jazz CD.

“One might say she is an artist who creates her own edge effect!”

That fascinates me!

I don’t think we are particularly comfortable with polymaths these days. Fame, success means being the biggest fish in one pond, not the second biggest in two, or the third biggest in three ponds.

I’m not a Leonardo da Vinci and nor are you (probably), but what can I do to be less of a gorilla: to occupy and exploit the fringes where linguistic innovation flourishes and social interaction is open and uncharted?

Firstly, as someone who primarily wordsmiths, I don’t hang out much with other writers. I love you guys (and gals), hugely, but sometimes I feel mildly threatened because we are grazing the same patch. Hooking me up with a muso, thesp, calligrapher, or chef is more likely to bring out the best in me (with the exception of a mime, perhaps).

Secondly, I hate it when people wibble on about “getting out of your comfort zone”. This is probably because I’m very happy in my comfort zone, thank you, but I’m also very tired of the cliché. Is there a better way to put it?

  • Induce a creative crisis (go analogue for a week).
  • Go on an artist date (indulge in thrill-seeking).
  • Study a parallel discipline (photographers, pick up a paint brush).
  • Throw away the dummy (burn those notebooks, there are plenty of fresh ideas where those ones came from).
  • Move the furniture around (sit next to someone different at the next meeting).
  • Get into your collaboration zone (thanks to one of my favourite collaborators, noahsapprentice, for this suggestion)

Whatever it takes …

How might you create your own edge effect?

I’m just kidding about the mime, by the way.

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