I have been in a quiet period in my writing. A dry spell, dry as a bone. I am in a quiet period where things are being gathered up and mulled over. When I think of something I’ll phone it in. That is what the newspaper reporters used to do, phone their stories in to the paper, if they were in a hurry with a breaking story or far away like a foreign correspondent. Foreign correspondent sounds so romantic, exciting and glamorous. Note the title correspondent. Like writing a letter. So beautiful.
There was a time when the foreign correspondent could not phone in a story because there were no phone cables across the ocean. Stories had to be sent by sea on a ship. Until the Transatlantic Cable was laid along the ocean floor, you had to wait to hear the news from other countries. I think in many ways that was better. You did not have to hear so much and so soon.
So think of me as an old time foreign correspondent. I will be sending in my stories but they will take a little longer to get here.
I received notification the other day that I reached this milestone. It is hard to believe I have this many posts. I started my blog in the Summer of 2014. So happy to have connected with other bloggers and my readers. It has been an interesting experience. If anyone had told me I would be blogging I don’t think I would have believed them.
I am still finding my way in the writing journey. Thanks for your support readers and fellow bloggers. 🙂
My posts have been going in different directions to match issues that hold my interest. I am still involved in Education and work with kids with learning differences. I am interested in issues impacting women, the environment and ageing. I like participating in some writing communities. I am thinking how I can organize my blog around these themes. A work in progress. 🙂
“Think before you speak is criticism’s motto; speak before you think, creation’s.”
–E. M. Forster
E. M. Forster (1879-1970) a well known and acclaimed English author who wrote A Room With a View, A Passage to India, and Howard’s End. All were made into films. I have seen all these films but not read the books. His books dealt with the class system in England, their values, and the shifting of power that was occurring in the early 20th century.
Some fun and hopefully humorous writing as part of my Making Blogging More Enjoyable for Me Project. My posts may not follow a regular schedule. Just when I feel inspired to do so.
I have seen some evidence in the comment section of my blog and from accounts given by fellow bloggers of a certain condition called Grammar Pedant Disorder (GPD). I will attempt to give a description of this disorder. Or at least traits I have identified so far and how I imagine that they develop. This is not a scientific study but based on anecdotal evidence and accounts. I do not claim to be an expert.
Signs of Beginning Grammar Pedant Disorder (GPD) or Stage I:
You find yourself feeling a certain smugness and slight superiority when spotting small errors in others writing. Things like word omissions, typos, and accidentally using the wrong word like their for there.
You would never think of pointing this out to the person in public.
The errors will not stop you from continuing to read the person’s writing.
Signs of Moderate GPD or Stage II:
You are noticing more grammar errors in others writing.
You can easily understand the errors, and know what the author meant to say, but you find yourself tsk tsk-ing to yourself.
You are starting to feel a bit edgy when you detect the errors.
You may find yourself tempted to point out the error. It is getting harder not to point it out. Your fingers quiver over your computer keyboard as you stare at the writer’s comment section.
You start to question if the caliber of writing is worth your time to read.
Signs of Full Blown GPD or Stage III:
You notice every error, no matter how minor, in others writing and it really irritates you. You are personally affronted by having to be exposed to such noxious things.
There is a whole long list of things that offend your sensibilities. And you find yourself carefully scrutinizing the writing of others to make sure none of these things are found.
You may have your special pet peeves that really get your goat.
You find you must actively avoid reading any samples of writing that contain any of the faults on your list.
There is a real danger at this point that you will develop a more severe form of this condition. This is where you actively point out the errors of other writers in their comment sections in a passive-aggressive way or with full blown nastiness.
This disorder has been in evidence for quite some time and now the medical community is taking note of it. There have been discussions of listing it as a category of mental illness in the DSM. If you feel you may be experiencing some of the signs and symptoms of this condition you should contact your doctor. There are support groups available in some communities for those wanting to recover from GPD.
This post is provided as a public service to new writers who may unknowingly come under the scrutiny of a person suffering with GPD. Having someone with this disorder as your mentor or Imaginary Reader is not recommended. It is also provided as a self-awareness exercise to guard against these traits developing in you.
Additional reading on this topic: I found an essay on Medium.com by a young lady, Mary Rolf, who identifies herself as a former Grammar Snob. She writes very eloquently about all the reasons she decided not be a snob. I have recently had thoughts similar to hers so her writing really resonated with me. If you think you suffer from GPD or think you could be described as a Grammar Snob I recommend you consider some of her arguments against it. https://medium.com/i-m-h-o/why-i-stopped-being-a-grammar-snob-aac6634d79af
I also recommend the book, ” Bad English, A History of Linguistic Aggravation,” by Ammon Shea
“There are people who embrace the Oxford comma and those that don’t, and I’ll just say this: never get between these people when drink has been taken.”–Lynn Truss
Unsolicited corrections of others writing is not a helpful thing. I am happy that I have not experienced it very much. But this came home to me when I read another blogger apologizing for his grammar mistakes. He went on to say something like he was learning and to cut him some slack. I interpreted this as telling the grammar police, to back off ,in a nice way. Another blogger referred to these critics as “Grammar Nazis.” I believe it is a type of trolling.
Even though I have not been “corrected” often, I did find the experience caused me to hesitate when writing and wonder if I was making mistakes.
This is wrong. We are not writing essays for an English class. If we are going to be published in a magazine, newspaper or book the editors can advise us.
I have a blogging friend who is a grammar expert and writes a blog criticizing grammar mistakes in well-known publications. I did say to her once, that I felt I could be making grammar mistakes and, as she was one of my readers, was a bit self-conscious. She said I did not have a staff of editors like a big newspaper and therefore should not worry. I hope she meant that in a good way. Not that I was making tons of mistakes but, after all, I do not have an editor. 🙂 She has liked my writing.
Blogging lends itself to a stream of consciousness style of writing. If I am truly writing that way, I am probably making errors. Sometimes I catch them and sometimes I don’t. And sometimes I don’t realize I am making them. If my writing is truly unclear, the reader can ask for clarification.
I read that Jack Kerouac did not use periods, wrote on a long scroll, and did not edit himself. I have read a few quotes from his writing and feel, if I could write as good as he did, I would feel fine about leaving out a few periods
Blogging can be a format for experimentation and play. Bloggers are creating something out of their unique perspectives and engaged in exploration. I don’t think they should be held back and made self-conscious by having their grammar mistakes pointed out on their blogs.
I did a bit of experimentation myself with this verse:
“Read, read, read. Read everything — trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it’s good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out of the window.” ― William Faulkner
Well I should be able to write pretty good by now because I do read so much. I agree with this quote because I think you can pick up how to be more articulate in writing by reading others work. I read a bit of Faulkner’s biography and learned he received the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1949. He never graduated from high school. He used some of his Nobel Prize money to help establish the PEN/Faulkner Award for Fiction. I like the part in the quote where he says if the writing is not good you can throw it out the window. He developed his unique style. I think all writers need to develop their own style. Try not to compare yourself to others or copy others.
It was a dark Halloween Night. The trick-or-treaters had all gone home to assay their sugary loot. Esmeralda turned off the porch light and sighed with relief. Finished with the relay she and her husband Cornelius had made back and forth to the front door with their bowl of assorted goodies. Cassiopeia, their cat, has observed the goings on from a safe distance.
Many of the kiddies had commented on how authentic Esmeralda’s costume looked from her beautiful star-studded pointed purple hat down to her pointy green high heel boots.
Her emerald-green eyes surveyed the remains of the treats. She was able to resist the temptation to sample a few. There was something better waiting for her in the refrigerator. She was looking forward to this late night treat.
The special treat Esmeralda had stashed away was Ben and Jerry’s Candy Bar Pie. She took one of her pretty ice cream bowls out of the cupboard, gathered her ice cream scoop and opened the refrigerator eagerly. But wait. It was right here. Where did it go? Oh no!
Cassiopeia sauntered into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. The container sat on the counter. A few dribbles of ice cream running over the side of the carton. Esmeralda peered inside the container and saw it was empty. Cassiopeia jumped up on the counter and approached the carton curiously. She tasted the remains of the yummy treat. She looked at her mistress as if to say ,” Any more?”
” It’s all gone Cassie,” Esmeralda said as she slowly turned and noticed Cornelius. He was on the couch watching one of their old DVDs, ” Bedknobs and Broomsticks” while spooning something into his mouth. “This ice cream is great! This is my second bowl,” he exclaimed.
Esmeralda felt the heat rising inside her. She marched toward Cornelius with the empty carton, brandishing the ice cream scoop like a weapon. Cornelius looked into her eyes and said, ” You’ve got to stop spending so much time on your computer with that blog. You look terrible and your eyes are red and bulging.”
“Thanks for saving some for me,” Esmeralda said sarcastically as she held up the empty carton. “What, oh, no worries,” Cornelius replied with a grin. She stood glaring at him and pondered whether or not she should turn him into a toad when he said, ” I know how much you love this stuff so I bought another carton this afternoon. It’s out in the freezer in the garage.”
The strange red glow in Esmeralda’s eyes disappeared and her eyes glistened with tears of joy as she realized how thoughtful Cornelius had been. She smiled sweetly as her grip relaxed on the ice cream scoop she had been clutching a little too menacingly.
So their Halloween was saved and Esmeralda settled in to watch the DVD and have some Candy Bar Pie of her own. Even Cassiopeia got to have a dish of it. Which was just divine in her opinion.
This little tale is based on a prompt from WordPress to write something that includes a dark night, a refrigerator and tears of emotion. In case you wondered at where this was going and why. 🙂
What’s your earliest memory involving another person? Recreate the scene from the other person’s perspective.
I am 15 years old and living with my mother and step-father and my little step-sister Debbie in Lake County. Debbie is 3 years old and looks like a Campbell’s Soup Kid according to her father. She is pretty chubby but cute. She really looks up to me but I have better things to do than hang around playing with her.
She wanted me to push her on the old tire swing that is at the front of the house. It’s a strange looking thing made of rubber with a bucket seat and long ropes going up to a high branch of an old tree. I was pushing her and she kept going higher and higher up over the roof of the house. She was looking down between her feet at the roof.
The next thing I know, my step-father is running out the front door of the house yelling, ” Mickey, stop pushing her!” Turns out he and my mother could see Debbie’s feet coming over the roof from the big picture window at the back of the house.
Notes Tied On The Sagebrush 