Nothing will make your journalism professor get twitchier faster than if you let spellcheck guide your writing. Just because something is spelled correctly, it doesn’t always stand to reason that you are using the right word.

Being wrong isn’t fun, but having to deal with people who are repeatedly wrong isn’t a picnic, either. After constantly running into a series “close enough” errors, I asked the hivemind for the most irritating gaffes they see on a regular basis, most of which drive them to ask, “Why can’t you use the right damned word?” Below are several areas in which folks noted errors that made them want to pour scotch in their coffee and bleach in their eyes:

 

The “there’s a difference between ‘astigmatism’ and ‘a stigmata'” category:

alot: Not a damned word

a lot: Either a whole bunch of something or a plot of land. “Jimmy was poor as a child and thus ate a lot of Ramen as he grew up.” OR “I want to build a house on a lot near Omro.”

allot: Give a portion of something. “The moderator will allot equal amounts of time to each debater.”

 

aight: Not a damned word

alright: Still not really a damned word.

all right: Everything is now all right, because you spelled it right.

 

apart: Not part of, or not together. “My parents got divorced, so they now live apart from one another.”

a part: A component of something. “My carburetor is a part of my Mustang.”

 

decent: Something that is passably functional. “Ellen did a decent job on her paper, but there’s no way she’s getting an A.”

descent: Falling or moving downward or a historic lineage. “The Millers found out they were of Hungarian descent.” OR “The descent from the mountain took the climbers longer than expected.”

 

definitely: Absolute certainty: “I definitely want to see the Milwaukee Bucks win an NBA title this year.”

defiantly: In opposition to with anger: “The toddler defiantly flung himself to the floor and screamed that he didn’t want to leave Chuck E. Cheese.”

 

diffuse: Spread out over a large area. “If you light that scented candle, it will diffuse the smell of coconuts and pine throughout the house.”

defuse: Remove danger or literally remove a fuse. “Archer had to get his turtle neck and wire cutters to defuse the bomb.”

 

eager: Excited in a good way; wanting to do something. “I was eager to get the Mustang out of storage so I could start driving it around town.”

anxious: Excited in a bad way; worried and fearful; experiencing dread. “I was anxious about getting the Mustang out of storage because I was worried it wouldn’t start.”

 

everyone: All of the people in a group; synonymous with everybody. “Everyone will have to fill out a new TPS form before the payroll department will issue checks.”

every one: Each individual person involved; followed by “of” usually: “I would like to thank every one of you who volunteered for my campaign.”

everybody: Synonymous with everyone; refers to all the people: “Everybody who wants to play cards tonight should be here by 9 p.m.”

every body: Each individual physical body. “Every body we found on the streets during the zombie apocalypse was missing at least one limb.”

 

fazes: Bothers or creates problems for someone. “Nothing ever fazes Corey Kluber when he’s pitching in the playoffs.”

phases: Created or completed in stages or components. “The office park was constructed in three phases over a five-year period.”

 

lose: The opposite of win. “When I play checkers with my father, I always lose.”

loose: The opposite of tight. “The knot in Zoe’s shoelaces was loose and quickly came undone.”

 

then: Something that happens next. “I drank six tequila slammers and then threw up.”

than: A word of comparison. “I like butter pecan better frozen custard than vanilla ice cream.”

 

The “This is really awkward if you screw it up” category:

incompetence: An inability to adequately complete certain tasks. “He claimed to be a great plumber, but after he flooded three houses, his incompetence was clear.”

incontinence: Lack of control over one’s bladder or bowels. “A stroke caused her incontinence, which forced her to wear adult diapers for the rest of her life.”

 

bowl: A food dish or a game involving pins, an alley and a ball. “Jimmy will always eat a bowl of cereal when he wants a snack.” OR “My father is the only person I know to bowl a perfect game.”

bowel: The intestine or the deepest part of something: “Jimmy ate too much cereal and had some bowel discomfort.”

 

prostate: A gland between a man’s bladder and penis. “Carl’s father was diagnosed with prostate cancer.”

prostrate: To lay flat. “The peasant will prostrate himself before the king to show his respect.”

 

jive: A form of slang that sounds amazing when Mrs. Cleaver from “Leave it to Beaver” lets it roll.

 

jibe: In accordance with what one believes. “Bill said the moon was made of green cheese, but that doesn’t jibe with what I learned in my astronomy class.”

 

 

And then there are phrases that are just wrong:

All of the sudden: You mean “all of a sudden.”

Another words: You mean “in other words.”

Could of: You mean “could have.”

For all intensive purposes: You mean “for all intents and purposes.”

Thrown to the ground or Fell to the ground: This only works when that person or thing is outside. Otherwise, it’s “fell to the floor” or “thrown to the floor.”

I could care less: You mean you “couldn’t care less” as in you literally could not give less of a damn about something, regardless of how hard you tried.

And finally, you don’t get French benefits (like a nice beret or some good onion soup). You get fringe benefits, otherwise known as “perks” or “lulus” according the AP style book.

 

Said.

Four letters, one word, simple perfection.

As far as verbs of attribution go, not much else can compete with “said,” even though it seems every student I have taught has a burning desire to find something else to use. As much as I don’t like blaming educators at other levels for anything (Hell, I’m not going to teach ninth graders without combat pay and a morphine drip…), I remember seeing a poster like this in a classroom while judging a forensics contest and almost immediately broke out in hives:

The rationale behind this approach is that “said is boring, so let’s do something different.” I might also point out that riding inside a car that is driving down the proper side of the street is boring, but that doesn’t mean you should try roof surfing on your roommate’s Kia Sorento while driving 80 mph the wrong way on the interstate just because it’s different.

If you want to write fiction, feel free to give any of verbs things a shot; Nobody’s going to argue with you about an orc “warning” a wizard about something. However, in journalism,  you actually have to prove things happened, which is why “said” works wonders.

“Said” has four things going for it:

1. It is provable: You can demonstrate that someone opened up his or her mouth and let those words fall out of his or her head. You don’t know if that person believes them or feels a certain way about them. You can prove the person said them, especially if you record that person.
2. It is neutral: If one person “yelled” something and the other person “said” something, one person might appear angry or irrational while the other person appears calm and rational. It shifts the balance of power ever so slightly to that calmer source and thus creates an unintended bias. We have enough trouble in the field these days with people accusing us of being biased without avoiding it in the simplest of ways.
3. It answers the “says who?” question: Attributions are crucial to helping your readers understand who is making what points within your story. It allows readers to figure out how much weight to give to something within your piece. Simply telling someone who “said” it helps the readers make some decisions in their own minds.
4. You’re damned right it’s boring: Name the last time that you heard anyone actively discussing verbs of attribution within a story outside of a journalism class or some weird grammar-nerd drum circle. Exactly. “Said” just does the job and goes on with its work. Verbs of attribution are like offensive linemen in football: If they’re doing their job, you don’t notice them at all. When they do something wrong, that’s when they gain attention. “Said” is boring and it is supposed to be. Don’t draw attention to your attributions. Their job isn’t to dazzle the readers.
   (The one I’ll never forget was one someone wrote for a yearbook story about a student with a mobility issue: “Bascom Hill is a challenge for anyone,” laughed Geoff Kettling, his dark eyes a’sparklin’. It was quickly switched to “Geoff Kettling said.“)

Let’s look at the three verbs most students tend to use instead of “said” and outline what makes them dicey:

Thinks: This is a pretty common one, in that most people being interviewed are asked to express their opinions on a topic upon which they have given some modicum of thought.

“Principal John Smith thinks the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

First, unless you have some sort of mutant power, on par with Dr. Charles Xavier, you don’t know what this guy thinks. Mind readers are excused from this lesson, but for the rest of us, we have no idea what he actually thinks.

He might be doing this because he’s tired of bumping into kids in the hallway who don’t look up from their phones during passing period. He might be thinking, “All that charging going on in classrooms is killing our electricity budget. How can I get this to stop?” He might be worried about students taking videos of teachers smoking weed in the faculty lounge or beating the snot out of kids. We don’t know what he’s thinking. We do, however, know what he said:

“Principal John Smith said the banning of mobile phones in school will lead to improved grades for his students.”

Second, and more inconsequentially, you have a weird verb-tense shift when you go from past tense to present with “thinks.” You can’t fix this the way you would fix a “says/said” verb shift by going with “thought,” as that implies he previously held an opinion but has since changed it:

“Principal John Smith thought the banning of mobile phones in school would lead to improved grades for his students, but the latest data reveals a sharp drop in GPA across all grades.”

 

Believes: This one suffers from much the same issues as “thinks,” in that you can’t demonstrate a clearly held belief in pretty much anything. Just ask all those 1980s televangelists who “believe” in the sanctity of marriage and then they were caught fooling around with the church secretary or some sex worker named “Bubbles” or something.

I use this example in my class each term, where I tell them, “I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught.” They don’t know if I believe that, or if I just professed the same belief to my other writing class. They don’t know if I go into my office and break out the “emergency scotch” and weep for the future of literacy after teaching their class. What they do know is that I said that statement.

You can either use it as a direct quote:

“I believe you are the BEST writing for the media class I have ever taught,” Filak said.

Or, if you really have a passionate love of my believable nature, go with this:

Filak said he believes this is the best writing for the media class he has ever taught.

 

According to: This is the one I waffle on more than occasionally, with the caveat that it not become a constant within the piece. It also needs to be applied fairly to sources.

This attribution works well for documents, although the term “stated” works just as well:

According to a police report, officers arrived to find the butler trying to capture an increasingly agitated lemur that had already bitten one woman in the face.

Pretty simple and easy, and nobody (other than the one woman) gets hurt. Here’s where it becomes problematic:

According to Bill Smith, Sen. John Jones has run a campaign of falsehoods and negative attacks.

Jones said Smith is upset he’s behind in the polls and is desperate to make up ground.

When one source gets an “according to” and the other gets a “said,” you have a situation in which it sounds like you believe one person and think the other person is just yammering. It comes across as if to say, “According to this twerp, X is true. However, the other person clearly and calmly says something that is actually accurate.”

How do you avoid all of these problems? Stick with said. It’s like Novocaine: Keep applying it and it works every time.

That said, if you want to have fun with verbs of attribution, enjoy the ridiculous ones we gathered below for your reading pleasure. (Whatever happens, don’t blame me if you use one of these on your reporting final…)

“I just can’t shake this head cold,” he sniffed.

“I’m going to have to draw you a picture to get you to understand this,” he illustrated.

“Of course I’m chewing tobacco!” he spat.

“All I know is, I love doing a ton of cocaine,” he snorted.

“This is the saddest movie ever,” he cried.

“Bethany said I was being distant, but it’s her fault we broke up,” he ex-claimed. “And that One Direction CD is totally mine as well.”

“I love this vintage, but I can’t remember what vineyard it comes from,” he whined.

“I used to have a poodle named Princess, but my ex-girlfriend stole her,” he bitched.

“Get me the phone so I can get a hold of Mom,” he called.

“Whose dog is making all that noise?” he barked.

“My empty stomach speaks for itself,” he growled.

“Don’t forget my Post-Its!” he noted.

“I know, I know, I know,” he echoed.