Grammatical Gaffes: The Comedic Chaos of Writing with Grammarly
Written on
Chapter 1: The Conundrum of Commas and Colons
Grammarly is a tool that many of us have come to rely on. Whether you’re crafting an article, an essay, or any written piece, it's likely that you've encountered Grammarly or similar applications. The harsh truth is, perfect first drafts are a myth, and even the most diligent editors sometimes require a break from sifting through lengthy pieces about the wonders of kale.
It can be incredibly disheartening when an editor critiques your work for overusing "that" in a post that's barely over 500 words. Editing software is meant to facilitate the process for editors while allowing writers to submit polished pieces that don’t read like a monkey's third attempt at Shakespeare.
Upon integrating Grammarly into your browser, the chaos begins.
Grammarly: "You require a comma here."
You: [adds comma]
Grammarly: "Actually, forget that. Remove the comma."
You: "What? Ugh. Fine." [removes comma]
Grammarly: "Hold on. I see your intent. Reinsert that comma and also add the word 'is.'"
You: [adds "is"]
Grammarly: "You misspelled 'is.'"
You: [throws laptop into the ocean]
For the most part, Grammarly does provide useful feedback. I've already made several adjustments to this article due to its suggestions. However, there are moments when its recommendations are utterly nonsensical.
Grammarly’s bizarre suggestion: "Okay, after all your changes, everything looks good, but I’d…"
Why does it insist on inserting so many pauses? Reading this with that level of punctuation feels like I'm attempting to communicate through a breathing tube or experiencing a stroke.
Grammarly resembles that high school English teacher who relentlessly encourages you to improve your writing, even when you're more preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of your crush. Eventually, you comply, refocus, and implement its suggestions, only to receive a D-minus with feedback like, "Uninteresting. No one wants to read about kale."
Yet, when publishing on platforms like Medium, your audience and the publications have established guidelines.
Grammarly could benefit from a companion program called Contextly, which would understand the context before it makes its odd suggestions. For instance, it might propose: "…the publications you write for have ruled."
Ruled what? Kingdoms? Were they around during the age of dinosaurs? READ THE ROOM, GRAMMARLY.
At this point, I'm tempted to uninstall Grammarly and revert to my previous run-on sentence structure. My natural writing style leans heavily on run-on sentences, which form the backbone of my comedic writing.
However, reading through lengthy, unpunctuated sentences can be tiring for readers who appreciate proper punctuation, understand the Oxford comma, or simply need a breath while navigating my prose.
Here we go again. The last sentence in the previous paragraph was originally:
Grammarly seems intent on ruining my readers’ experience. Its suggestion: "…or may have COPD and need to stop breathing while…"
Yes, Grammarly, that’s precisely what I intended to convey. I want my readers to stop breathing while enjoying my articles.
Unfortunately, I will not be making that adjustment, Grammarly. Instead, I’ll rewrite the entire sentence since that appears to be the only way to satisfy your demands.
I've become accustomed to seeing Grammarly's red lines pop up more frequently than elderly gentlemen at a nursing home on Free Viagra Day. It has made it abundantly clear that I should reconsider my writing endeavors.
Is my writing truly that terrible, Grammarly? Do you truly understand comedic timing and dramatic pauses better than I do?
It seems that way.
What I have is a free plugin that enjoys overstepping its boundaries and providing unsolicited feedback. Grammarly has taken on the role of the Hand of the King in every fictional kingdom.
King: "We ought to invade their territory, destroy their cities, and claim them as our own. This will send a stern warning to our foes."
Hand of the King: "No, your Majesty, we should host a circus."
King: "You’re right. I DEMAND THE GREATEST JUGGLER IN ALL THE LAND."
In truth, I think I’m a bit envious.
This little icon at the bottom of my screen analyzes and evaluates the structure and tone of every sentence I craft. Every joke I concoct, every pun I attempt to share, it’s always there—judging me.
You are witnessing history, folks. I composed a sentence without a single complaint from Grammarly. While I’ve never won the lottery, I imagine this feels quite similar.
Still, for the most part, Grammarly is correct. My writing has flaws, and so too do my thought processes.
Me [having an epiphany]: "Dad was right all along."
It’s disheartening to realize I've installed an AI-driven tool that understands my intentions better than I do. However, when writing for a publication, rules are rules. The red lines on my article are like blood in the water, signaling to the editing sharks waiting to pounce.
I suppose I’ll allow Grammarly to remain—always observing, always calculating. I won’t always heed its advice, though, because sometimes it simply misses the mark, and I’m content to receive that D-minus.
Especially if it comes with a tantalizing glimpse of side-boob.
Is it side-boob or side boob? I want this Christmas letter to be absolutely perfect.
OMG.
It happened again.
All images by the author unless otherwise specified.