I read an article in Smithsonian magazine that said the rules of English grammar we cherish and curse (sometimes in the same breath) come from a misguided attempt to impose Latin structure on a Germanic root. Well, bite my neck and call me Susie (as my grandfather used to say, and don’t ask me who Susie is). I can blame all my agony at the keyboard on the tyranny of imperialism.
Except…the rules matter. In the life or death struggle to find an agent, grammar counts (as does spelling, and understanding that ten pages and a synopsis means just that). I have told my critique group that “rule” is a four-letter word, but I still red-line split infinities and non-dialogue sentences that begin with a conjunction.
The Smithsonian article advised putting good prose above precise grammar, which I believe is good advice. What matters most is telling the story in the best possible way. Nevertheless, I can’t bring myself to abandon the structure I was taught without compelling reason. Latin structures—like Hadrian’s Wall—outlasted the barbarians. Who am I to open the door to chaos in my prose just because one of my means of defense isn’t a perfect fit?