Writing it Wrong on Purpose

Some of the best times of my life were my years performing with Laughing Matters, Atlanta’s Premiere Improvisational Comedy Troupe. Lifelong friendships were formed, and lots of life lessons were learned. One lesson that has stayed with me is to always have a vegetarian option when hosting a dinner party. The other is that it takes true mastery of a skill to do it wrong on purpose. 

Improvisation demands you always say, “Yes, and...” Accept the information given to you and bring more to the table to move the story along. If someone dubs you their grandmother, you take on the role of grandmother, lick your hand, and fix their hair while affirming your pride in your grandchild. If your scene partner says they like the chicken costume you are sporting on a fine summer day, you say, “Thank you! I’m trying out for a Kentucky Fried Chicken commercial and I really want to feel the role.” That is Yes, and…at work.

Saying “no” in any form, especially during a performance, meant you got a talkin’ to after the show—and then you bought a round of drinks. 

Show-Time Story

We were performing “Story, Story, Die.” To play this game, the audience offers suggestions, and four actors line up facing the audience. One director takes a maestro-like position to conduct the story the actors will tell. The director points at the actors in any order, and the pointed-to actor must pick up the story exactly where the last speaker left off, even if in the middle of a word. If an actor hesitates, adds a non sequitur (something that does not connect to the tale), or makes one of many other mistakes, they must “die” dramatically on stage according to the wishes of the audience.

One evening, Tommy, our company’s fearless leader and the director of that night’s game, was setting up the game, asking each of us to demonstrate one of the infractions that could cause us to “die.” He pointed at me and said, “Nancy, please give us an example of incorrect grammar.” I responded, “I can’t. I was educated by nuns in Connecticut.” My “No” response got a big laugh—aaaaaand everyone enjoyed their free beer at the end of the show.

I could have done it. Honestly. Incorrect grammar is an occupational hazard for us former English Language Arts teachers. We have seen so many examples that we sometimes see them in our sleep. I didn’t, but I could have. This experience started a stream of thoughts around doing something incorrectly on purpose.

Singing Off-pitch on Purpose

At some point in time, most singers sing something off-key; it just happens, usually when learning a new piece. Most of the time we are not aware of it, and the flat notes slip out, causing those in the audience to react to the unpleasant sound—but never in a rude way, though. Ever. Most of the time, someone else needs to make us aware of our musical messiness, and we do our best to adjust.

Some people are totally aware of their inability to sing on pitch and use it to their comic advantage. A school friend, Barbara, was tone deaf, and she knew it. She thought it was particularly funny that her closest friends all sang in choir and performed in the musicals. Barbara had a funny streak a mile long, so she would proudly demonstrate her key-cluelessness on demand. Listening to her perform “Get a job—sha na na na, sha na na na na, ba-doom” would bring us all to tears—partly because it made our ears hurt, but mostly because of the rock-star persona she embodied. She owned it.

What about when a role or a character requires tone deafness? To play Lina Lamont in Singin' in the Rain well, the actor must be able to sing off-key and out of tune on purpose while sticking to the musical arrangement. It takes practice and dedication to the comedy to intentionally hit the wrong pitches at the right time. That takes training and rehearsal and comic timing.

And confidence. You have to be absolutely confident that your reputation as an excellent singer will remain intact despite the off-pitch vocalizing. Like Barbara, you have to own it.

It’s Actually the Same with Writing

Like singers, most of us writers are not aware of the grammatical mistakes we make. Fingers fly too quickly on the keys or the app doesn’t pick up on an incorrect homonym or time runs out for spell checking. Due to the wiring of our brains, it’s hard for us writers to see our own mistakes. According to a 2004 Wired Magazine article by psychologist Tom Stafford, when we review our own writing, our brains are busy confirming the meaning of our words, a high-level brain function. Our writers’ brains are so consumed with this task, even in that second or third pass, that we rarely notice little details such as our own typos and missing commas. Smart writers realize the importance of finding a good proofreader for these very reasons. 

However, writing grammatically incorrect language on purpose takes an enormous amount of brain power, a good ear, and a reason. Perhaps it is a dialectical thing, and you need to write using the speech patterns and grammar of a region. Perhaps it is a reflection of a character’s education—or lack thereof. Clarify your reason for yourself and your readers.

Whatever the reason for using poor grammar on purpose, make sure it is crystal clear to your copy editor and proofreader in a style or guide sheet. Without forewarning, we might edit out the very words you require to communicate character, theme, tone, etc. 

Back to the Show

To be honest, when Tommy pointed at me, I could have spouted about 1,000 examples of incorrect grammar on a dime. Getting the big laugh took precedence. When writing, I don’t want to be laughed at for unconsidered mistakes and typos; I want to pick and choose the right moments for wrong words, just as in my comedy. 

Try me again, Tommy. I promise to say, “Yes, and.”

Yeah, right.