Here’s a little quiz: name two different verbs that share, as it word, the same body, only their respective body parts aren’t in the same places. (No, this isn’t a freak show, nor is it particle physics–just the English language!).
Well, I gave it away in the graphic: the twins are named lie and lay. But naming them is just the beginning. Can we put the right parts in the right places on the right twins? Let’s see…
Overcome with weariness, he laid down, and… hmmm.
He was laying down when he… uh, nope.
First, he lay his gun on the table… er, he laid his–
Oh, good grief–why is it SO HARD?
Because these mischievous twins, lie and lay, aggravate us constantly by pretending to be the same word–but they aren’t. They are two:
(1) to lie, as in "lie down," or "lie on the beach and soak up some rays."
(2) to lay, as in "lay it down right there" or "lay the carpet out in the sun to dry."
Twin Number 1, "lie," is all about reclining, going horizontal. (Note: when you lie down, you just do it–meaning it’s "intransitive" (no object); nothing is being done TO anybody or anything.)
Twin Number 2, "lay," is all about to placing something on top of something else. (Note: there is always a something. Lay only works when it’s doing somthing TO something or somebody. Thus it’s "transitive.")
Good so far? But hat’s only the present tense. It gets really screwy when you enter the past. Today, you may lie down to rest in the present, but yesterday? Well, yesterday…you LAY down.
I leave it to you to parse out other the perversities of these twin imps. It’s not impossible. If you can understand when a man-to-man defense becomes a zone, and why, you can handle this. Sure, it’s confusing, and the confusion has worsened in our lifetimes. There’s been precious little pressure to from society at large to get it right in common speech. You grow up hearing people everywhere say, "I’m going to go lay down for a while." Then all of a sudden some maniac teacher starts to beat you up because it’s "wrong." What’s the big deal?
For fiction writers, here’s the big deal: even if everyone you know habitually misuses lie and lay, you, as a fiction writer, will be held to a higher standard. Trust me–you just will. Not by your readers necessarily, many of whom won’t notice or care, but by the professional folks you need to impress most at the beginning of your career: agents, editors, and other gatekeepers.
And by the way, don’t be fooled by overhearing an agent yell "lay down" at her dog. That same agent will eat your lunch for letting it stray into your manuscript. Why? Because it tells her something. It tells her you are unaware of one of the classic word snafus of English, a basic grammatical litmus test that all literary professionals must pass. Get it wrong and it’s into the return envelope with your work. Doors will be slammed, and you can’t have that when you’re starting out. Getting published is difficult enough by any estimation, so you’ll be smart to maximize the odds in your favor, by any and all means.
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