English is messy. Honestly, anyone who tells you there is one strict rule for the word that follows future constructions is probably oversimplifying things to make a buck on a grammar course. We are taught in grade school that "will" is the king of the future. You want to go to the store? You will go. You want to finish that report? You will finish it. But the second you start looking at how native speakers actually talk—and how the "pure" grammar of the 18th century tried to force us to speak—everything gets weirdly complicated.
Most people think the future tense in English is a single, solid block of logic. It isn't. We don't even have a "future tense" in the same way languages like Spanish or French do, where the verb itself changes its ending. Instead, we use "modal auxiliaries." We lean on words like will, shall, and the increasingly popular going to. If you're looking for the specific word that follows future markers, you're usually looking at a "bare infinitive." That’s just a fancy linguistic term for a verb that doesn't have the word "to" in front of it.
Think about it. You say "I will eat," not "I will to eat." That tiny distinction is where the gears of the English language turn.
The Will and Shall Divide
There was this old rule. You might have heard of it if you went to a particularly strict school or if you're a fan of Victorian literature. The rule stated that for the first person (I and We), you were supposed to use shall. For everything else (He, She, It, They), you used will.
It’s almost entirely dead now.
In modern American English, shall feels like you’re wearing a tuxedo to a backyard barbecue. It’s stiff. It’s formal. It’s something a ghost in a haunted mansion says. Yet, in legal documents, that word that follows future intent is almost always shall. Why? Because in law, shall doesn't just mean something is going to happen; it means it must happen. It’s a command disguised as a timeline. If a contract says "The tenant shall pay rent," it isn't predicting the future. It’s a threat.
But back to the everyday. If you use will, the word immediately following it must be the base form of the verb. "She will arrive." "The sun will rise." You can't stick a past tense verb there. You can't say "She will arrived." It sounds like a glitch in the matrix. This is the "bare infinitive" rule, and it’s the backbone of how we project our thoughts into the time that hasn't happened yet.
The "Going To" Takeover
Language evolves. It’s a living thing that breathes and gets lazy and finds shortcuts. That’s why "be going to" has basically eaten the traditional future tense's lunch.
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"I'm going to grab a coffee."
Technically, that's the present continuous being used for the future. But in our brains? It’s just the future. Linguists like Geoffrey Pullum have pointed out for years that English is shifting toward these periphrastic (multi-word) constructions. They feel more immediate. They feel more "certain." If you say "I will do it," you might be making a promise. If you say "I'm going to do it," it feels like you've already put your shoes on.
When the Future Word Isn't a Verb
Sometimes the word that follows future isn't an action at all. We use "future" as an adjective constantly. Future plans. Future wife. Future endeavors.
In these cases, we’re dealing with noun phrases. The grammar here is much simpler, but the psychological weight is heavier. When we talk about "the future," we are often using it as a placeholder for our anxieties. Grammatically, "future" functions as a modifier. It narrows down the scope of the noun it’s attached to. "My future career" is a much more specific (and stressful) concept than just "my career."
Wait, what about "Future Perfect"?
This is where people usually start to get a headache. "By next Thursday, I will have finished the book."
Look at that string of words. You’ve got a modal (will), an auxiliary (have), and a past participle (finished). The word that follows future indicators in this specific tense is always have. It never changes. You don't say "He will has." Even though "he" usually takes "has," the modal will acts like a shield. It forces the verb into its most basic, naked form.
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It’s one of the few times English grammar actually stays consistent, which is a rare gift.
Common Mistakes That Make Editors Cringe
You see it in emails all the time. People try to sound smart and end up tripping over their own feet. One of the biggest issues involves the "future-in-the-past."
- Wrong: I knew that he will come.
- Right: I knew that he would come.
When the main verb is in the past ("knew"), the word that follows future intentions has to shift too. Will becomes would. It’s a sequence of tenses thing. If you ignore this, your writing feels "off" to a native speaker, even if they can't quite explain why. It’s like hearing a note played slightly out of tune.
Another weird one? Using "will" in "if" clauses.
"If it will rain, we will stay home."
Nope. Gross.
In English, we use the present tense for the condition. "If it rains, we will stay home." Even though the raining hasn't happened yet! We just assume it might, so we use the present. It’s a strange quirk of the language that confuses ESL learners every single day.
Nuance and the "Modal" Mood
We have to talk about the "vibe" of these words. Grammar isn't just about math-like formulas; it's about intent.
When you choose the word that follows future indicators, you’re choosing how much authority you have.
- "I might go." (Low certainty)
- "I may go." (Formal, slightly higher certainty)
- "I should go." (Obligation)
- "I will go." (Commitment)
These are all modals. They all sit in that same "future" slot in a sentence. They all require that "bare infinitive" verb right after them. The structure is identical, but the meaning changes the entire trajectory of your day.
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Why the British Still Use "Shall" (Sometimes)
If you've ever watched a BBC drama, you've heard it. "Shall we go?" It sounds lovely. In the UK, shall is still used for suggestions or offers. It’s a way of asking for a future consensus. In the US, we just say "Do you want to go?" or "Should we go?"
But if you’re writing for a global audience, keep in mind that the word that follows future questions often changes based on which side of the Atlantic you’re on. Americans have almost entirely scrubbed shall from their vocabulary, except when they're trying to sound like they're in a Shakespeare play.
Practical Steps for Mastering Future Construction
Stop overthinking the "will vs. shall" debate unless you are writing a supreme court brief or a high-fantasy novel. For 99% of communication, will is your workhorse.
Focus instead on the verb form. If you remember that the word that follows future modals like will, can, might, or should must be the base form (no -ed, no -ing, no -s), you’ve already won half the battle.
Check your "if" statements. This is the most common place where SEO writers and content creators fail. If you find yourself writing "If you will click the link," change it. "If you click the link" is the grammatically correct way to handle a future possibility.
Lastly, pay attention to "going to." If you're writing a conversational blog post or a casual email, use "going to" (or even "gonna" if the brand voice allows it). It breaks the "AI-generated" feel. Real humans don't always use the formal future tense; we use the "immediate future" because we're always in a rush.
The future is coming, whether we conjugate it correctly or not. But getting the word that follows future markers right makes you sound like an expert who actually knows their way around a sentence. It builds trust. And in a world full of sloppy text, clarity is the ultimate flex.
Verify your verb sequences. Check your "would" vs "will" usage in past-tense narratives. If the sentence starts in the past, keep it there. Consistency is more important than following rules that died in 1920. Stick to the base verb after your modal, and you're good to go.