A Word, Please: It’s better to avoid writing upside down

London is a place that gets a lot of rain.

Do you see anything wrong with that sentence? Technically, it’s fine. The subject agrees with the verb. There are no misspellings or tense shifts. Even the message is true. Yet something about this sentence falls short of quality professional writing.

To see what I’m talking about, look at the main clause. It says: London is a place. This, to any keen-eyed reader, raises the question: Why did you bother to say that at all?

One of the most distinctive hallmarks of quality professional writing is this: Pros make every word and especially every main clause count. They don’t waste them on laughably self-evident statements.

In the best writing, main clauses serve as pedestals for the facts the writer wants to emphasize.

The main clause is center stage, the point where the spotlight is shining. That makes it a great location for substantive, interesting information. But when you dedicate this top position in your sentence to information like “London is a place,” the real information you wanted to convey gets short shrift because it’s stuck in a clause of lower status.

For example, our London sentence really had only one thing to say: London gets a lot of rain. By taking out the words “is a place that,” we get a double benefit. The sentence has more impact because it emphasizes the relevant information, plus it’s more efficient.

Of course, there are times when you might want to state the obvious in a main clause. The sentence “John is a man who knows how to get things done” may put the emphasis exactly where you want it. Yes, that’s some absurdly self-evident information hogging up that main clause. But this also emphasizes that John is a man, a certain type of man, which may paint exactly the picture you’re going for. But that’s rare.

In our London sentence, the facts were squeezed into what’s called a relative clause — a clause introduced with the relative pronoun like “that.”

When writers inadvertently squeeze their best information into a clause introduced by a subordinating conjunction like “after,” “before,” “if,” “since,” “when” and “as,” it’s called upside-down subordination.

Here’s an example: “After drinking a whole bottle of gin, jumping behind the wheel and crashing her Hummer through the Arby’s, Emily knew she was going to be in trouble.”

In this sentence, the main verb — the one action that’s held up above all others — is “knew.” All the jaw-dropping action — drinking, driving and crashing — takes a back seat. And you can almost hear the rushed monotone voice inspired by the subordinating conjunction “after,” which cues the reader that the interesting information will come later, after we get through this boring stuff.

Yet all the reader gets for a reward is a static main clause hinged on the state-of-mind verb “knew.”

The real problem with upside-down subordination is not the hurried monotone it imbues in the reader’s mind. It’s more concrete than that. Subordinating conjunctions relegate clauses to a lower grammatical status.

Consider the sentence “Henry slept.” It’s a complete sentence. But what happens when we put a subordinating conjunction in front of it? “When Henry slept.” “Because Henry slept.” “If Henry slept.”

Suddenly, the clause can no longer stand alone as a sentence. It’s been relegated to something less by the simple presence of a subordinating conjunction. That’s grammar sending the reader a powerful message: Don’t pay too much attention to this clause. The really interesting stuff will come later.

Again, that’s fine when more interesting stuff is on its way. But when it’s not, rejigger your sentence so that your best information gets top billing.

JUNE CASAGRANDE is author of “The Best Punctuation Book, Period.” She can be reached at JuneTCN@aol.com.