Some people hate winter. I like it. I like being able to rug up, hide under blankets with a hot water bottle. I like the chill on the air and the sense of losing feeling in my wrists while typing. Well, not that part, but you get the idea.
Summer is, on the other hand, a special hell. The sun is too bright, too intense, my clothes stick to me and whether I’m exerting myself or sitting quite still, I’m covered in sweat. The sweat is moist and uncomfortable — sidebar: I once read a survey that suggested that certain genders “preferred” (if you can call it that) one of two words: Moist, or Soiled — and there’s just no escaping it. Sure I can turn on the new Airconditioner, but that’ll only hammer my electricity bill and a single room for the duration it’s on.
Why am I writing this? No idea, I came here for something else. Ranty McRantFace has taken control and I’m now at a loss.
Ah yes, Grammar.
I’m a writer. Once I’m published I’ll be an author, a singular distinction and subtle but fundamental difference to the former.
And being a writer, I toil over a hot processor for long hours determining the order of words. English ones in this case. Trouble is, I belong to a generation of kids that the “Education System” decided not to bother teaching English Grammar.
“They’ll pick it up”, seems to have been the pervading mindset. And in the time saved, we’ll teach the kids SPORT!
And what this taught me was a pervading dislike of team sports, at least the way they’re played in general. The concept of “sportsmanship” was replaced — to my eyes — with puffed chests and arrogance from the winners, the endless drubbing of the losers.
Again I’ve gone off on a tangent. That’s me I’m afraid. Easily distracted.
So, grammar is one of those things I don’t have much of a clue about. And many years ago I was asked to help edit a magazine. My contribution was in hindsight basic in nature. I could see when things weren’t working, and the “read it out loud” approach to editing would always save things. Try it, you’ll trip over words and sentences that are poorly phrased.
But here’s the odd thing.
The teachers were right in the end. Not about specific knowledge of the use of Adverbs and past participles, but that I picked up the language and could work out how to use it.
At least, that’s what I think. Subjectively I mean. Objectively I might be throwing words at the page like a kid throws mud at a wall. Only a future publisher will be able to tell me that. Which reminds me, I need to edit this damn book for a final time. And find an agent. And write a synopsis.
So enough distractions.