I often argue with myself when I’m writing. Here’s what’s really awful: Sometimes I lose the argument.

Here’s what I mean. There are a few words and phrases I absolutely hate and have vowed never to use – for example, being, he or she, affect. But occasionally these offenders show up in my writing, and I can’t get rid of them no matter how hard I try.

I think I need to explain why I have a problem with these particular words. Being tends to gum up sentences, in my experience. One problem is that it often introduces noun phrases, and they’re too static for really good writing. (“The fact that” falls into the same category.)

Here’s an example: The parking lot next door is being used as a hangout by some teens who live in the neighborhood.

I think the sentence would be livelier if it were rewritten: Some teens who live in the neighborhood are using the parking lot next door as a hangout.

So: Being is not welcome in my sentences. But it often finds its way into my writing anyway in sentences like this: Being late for the meeting caused so many problems that I’ll never do it again. I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to get rid of that pesky being – but dammit, the sentence worked better that way. So sometimes it stays on, mocking me every time I reread it.

He or she is an expression I particularly hate, and I waste big blocks of time trying to get rid of it. Usually I just make the sentence plural, like this:

Be sure to ask suspects to cooperate before you put handcuffs on them.

But there’s a problem: I write law enforcement articles, and sometimes I want to talk about one suspect in a particular situation. I made a New Year’s resolution to start using “they” in these sentences, but that can be awkward too. So all too often, with a sigh, I write sentences like this:

Watch the suspect carefully for signs that he or she might be reaching for a hidden weapon.

The last @#$%! word in this group is affect. Unlike many people I know, I don’t have any problem distinguishing between affect and effect – one of the benefits of years of reading.

But there’s a serious problem with affect: It’s vague. “The new tax proposal is likely to affect your tax rate.” Will it benefit me or make me pay higher taxes? That blasted affect doesn’t give me a clue.

So affect isn’t welcome in my sentences either – except that sometimes affect turns out to be exactly the right word, despite my protests:

The unexpected snowstorm affected everyone’s weekend plans.

I could use changed, but that’s another vague word. (I used to beg my students not to use affect in their essays, and of course I carefully explained why. “Use benefited, or worsened, or damaged, or improved,” I would plead. “Find a word that tells me more about what happened.” Invariably – 100 times out of 100 – the papers would come back with the word change substituted for affect.)

But maybe there’s a way to summon all my writerly powers and banish these these three offenders forever. I’m going to try to put them into a single sentence. Maybe they’ll feel that they’ve had their moment to shine and won’t come back to pester me. Here goes:

Everyone who’s busy being a writer already knows how clumsy words can affect his or her writing and should do his or her best to avoid them.

Done! Poof – begone!