Okay, here’s one of the biggies — even I used to have difficulty with the various forms of the word “who,” but the rules are actually pretty simple when you get right down to the basics.

“Who’s” is a contraction of “who is,” so one only uses it as a contraction for “who is.” If you replace it in a sentence with “who is” and the sentence doesn’t make sense, you’ve used it incorrectly.

“Whose” is a possessive — it indicates ownership of an object (or responsibility, in the case of “Whose fault.”

That brings us to the tricky ones: Who and Whom.

Remember the preposition discussion? Here’s a gentle reminder: A prepositional phrase is a bridge from the verb of a sentence to its object. Well, that’s a clue to who and whom. Who is the subjective form (use it in the subject part of a sentence). Whom is the objective form (use it in the object of a sentence).

So the question, “Who does this belong to?” is grammatically incorrect not because it begins with the word “who,” but because it ends with a preposition, a bridging word. It’s that bridge-to-nowhere thing. Who is actually right, because it’s the subject of the sentence (it’s the rest of the sentence that, well, has issues.) Correctly structured, the question becomes, “To whom [preposition>>objective form] does this belong?”

But who talks like that? [subjective form>>verb, no prepositional phrase.]

All she could think of was ‘why me?’.

As a first sentence to an ABC story, it is full of potential.

This writing exercise is called an ABC story and has been around for awhile.  Each person gets a letter of the alphabet and must write one (1) sentence of the story. No editing later of typos, grammar, etc. AND it must be cohesive to the team writing. No going off in a direction or tone that won’t fit in with the rest of the story.

Not sure it teaches a lot of skills but good for kicks and giggles.  Our chapter wrote this story during our annual retreat. Three days and nights in a rented cabin, lots of food, and tons of creative energy. Total success.

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Anastasia Holland surveyed the rubble of the church, strewn two city blocks by yesterday’s tornado, and wondered how she’d ever find the medallion that would keep her safe.

“Botheration,” she swore aloud.

“Curses on this wretched weather!”

Daunting as the task appeared, she knelt to the ruined floor with her ruined panty hose and started to dig through the rocks looking for the medallion.

Edmund had told her it boasted a center emerald the size of his front tooth, but she was pretty sure he’d exaggerated.

Firstborn children of the Holland Clan were culled by the Patriarchs and the medallion would act as Moses’ lamb blood marks; death would pass her by.

Gulping down water she wiped the dust from her brow and knelt to continued digging, when a pair of shiny brown loafers appeared before her.

“Hurry, some one’s alive in here,” Anastasia called to the others.

Ingrid Dodge watched Anastasia in her feeble attempt to save Edmund, but it was already too last, she’d made sure Edmund Holland would never stand in her way again.

Justice wasn’t Anastasia’s concern right now, it was all about the search, the solution to her nightmare.

Kansas averaged 30 touch downs per year, but this was Idaho and a tornado was the last thing she had expected to have to deal with.

Laughter bubbled–an inappropriate response to her situation, and she fought the urge as she continued her quest.

Moving the last stone aside she saw the medallion clutched in his hand-as the sun hit it it began to glow spreading jade colored light through the ruins.

No one had ever survived who had touched the medallion except for her ancestors, but as she reached for the glowing treasure, she looked into Edmund’s open lifeless eyes, and wondered who would become its next victim.

Only the prophecy of the Medallion and a chosen one would bring the deaths to an end, of the firstborns and the medallion’s curse, but was Ingrid right – was she the one and could she do what was needed to end it all?

Pounding fear slammed through her as she retrieved the medallion, its heat arcing through her body and sending uncontrollable flashes of fire from her eyes that set the nearby bushes aflame.

Quickly closing her eyes, she used her hands to feel out the loop of gold chain and place it around her throat where it laid against her pale skin and pulsed like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

Ribbons of regret twisted through her, afraid to open her eyes she sat in her self-imposed blackness.

Silence intruded and unable to bear the unknown any longer, she opened her eyes to find the flames out and members of the Holland Clan kneeling in a circle around her.

Throne or not, the unadulterated worship in their eyes made her feel like royalty and she didn’t care for it one whit.

Unfortunately she didn’t see Ingrid amongst them and a zing of fear raced up her spine.

Vindictive bitch, Ingrid would stop at nothing to take the medallion but Anastasia swore on her dead cousin’s Edmunds soul, she would never have it.

“Where are you, Ingrid?” Anastasia screamed, and at that moment, saw her nemesis standing beside her with a jagged knife, her eyes alight with a horrible fire.

“Xenophobia has robbed you of your senses and blinded you to your loyalty,” Anastasia didn’t falter as she closed the distance between them.

Yelling the guttural battle cry that had been in her family for generations and evoked the medallions protective powers.

Zigzagging streams of light emerged from the medallion, engulfing Ingrid in red and purple fire, leaving ashes where the woman once stood-the Holland Clan was safe, for the moment.

Since no one appears to have any grammar questions at the moment, I’m going to talk about one of my pet peeves: the “try and” construction.

Maybe it’s regional to the Northwest, but it’s one of those minor grammar mistakes that makes my teeth grit every time I read it. And I recently reread several books of a favorite author who uses it frequently, so my jaw is just a bit sore at the moment.

Here’s the technical problem with “try and”: “Try” is a verb. In all but the simplest sentences, a verb needs an object. And some verbs need prepositions to connect them to their objects (other verbs don’t need a preposition). “To” is a preposition, but “and” is a conjunction. So the construction “try and” is nonsensical unless followed by something other than the object of the verb “try.”

For example, in “try and fail,” “fail” is another verb, so “and” is properly joining the two verbs with an implied object (in this case, the implied object would be “to succeed,” but the phrase “try to succeed” is patently redundant).

If the whole parts-of-speech thing gives you a headache (and it does that to many people), here’s another way to look at it. “Try” is a synonym for “attempt.” Does the sentence “Attempt and do something” make any sense? Well, neither does the construction “try and do something.”

Ow! There goes the teeth-gritting again.

Until next time, We remain your humble servant,

The Grammar Queen