Thursday, January 16, 2014

Wordy Day; Ariana's Childhood, Part 1

Ariana looked up at her mother and knew that she wouldn't be comfort. She could feel that her body had begun to shake and her mother must have felt it because her hand tightened on Ariana's much smaller one, making Ariana flinch but still her mother did not look down or say anything. Ariana knew she was on her own and clenched her whole body, steeling her five year old frame for the pains she was about to go through. She began to shake harder and as the visions slammed through her brain, Dark! Vortex! Sand! she felt her grip tighten upon her mothers hand and then she fell to the ground severing even that contact. Pain! Red! Black! War!

When the visions and impressions fled, Ariana lay panting on the floor of the side hallway, all alone. Her mother was gone and she was bruised, her small shoulders aching and her face wet and clammy from tears that she hadn't even felt. She took a deep ragged breath and began to cry for real. It was the side corridor so her wails wouldn't disturb the rest of the house, she thought.

She shut her eyes and abandoned herself to despair, letting her misery out with her forceful cries that echoed through the hall. She heard a door click open and her eyes flicked open in shock. She scooted around on the floor and stared at the door that had opened behind her. It was just ajar by a few inches but as she watched like an animal about to be slaughtered, the door opened and a little girl, a toddler, stared out at her, her green eyes large and somewhat neutral. The little girl stepped forward and nodded to Ariana. "You're loud," she said with a three-year-old's lisp. "Stop it."

Just like that, Ariana closed her mouth, wiped her tears, peeled her sore body off of the hard floor and went into Melody's room. They'd probably play a game and it really was that simple. As soon as Melody showed up and didn't seem to care, Ariana calmed down and could begin recuperating for the next fit. They had gotten worse this year, but in the last months, Ariana was sure they'd lessened. She wondered if it was better when her mother wasn't around.

This is a bit about two characters in a series of books that I am working on, which includes the infamous Snow Sands I removed for revision late last year. Ariana and Melody are broken members of their family. They mostly stick together up until and during the events of Snow Sands. Ariana experiences visions, mostly against her will. 
Snow Sands is currently being expanded but it should be republished, perhaps under a different name, by May of 2014

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Grammar and What it Means to Us and Everybody Else

I is one good girl. I likes banana and drinks five glass water the day.

The above sentence is wrong. It's very, very wrong. It does communicate as all the necessary information is there but, it barely counts as English, let alone good English.
I guaranty you that there is a language that would accept this sentence as proper, if it was translated, of course.

This fact serves to illustrate that the rules which we use and take pride in to construct prose aren't the only rules out there and the significance we attach to certain phrasing styles is based on what those before us have determined, as well as popular culture, not to mention many centuries of invading peoples.

What we can learn from this is...

Harshness has no place in the enjoyment of writing and neither do strict rules on how to do things!

I don't advocate clumsily strung together sentences and blandness is probably the worst thing that a story can communicate. I also don't like bad grammar.

However, there is wiggle room.

I'd really appreciate it if people stopped telling others that there's one way to do things. Not even the grammar and writing books agree with you there.

There's more than one way to do things in this world. Stop being so rigid, unless you're one of those English teachers or Literature professors, you know who you are. If so, it might be too late for you. You'll prove to be a good life lesson for your students on how to deal with difficult people.

(I'm not saying English teachers are inherently bad. I had plenty of good ones. Literature professors on the other hand...Well, hope springs eternal.)