The Oxford comma, and the wrong way.

I know some of you will have felt the wrath of my pedantic nagging on this issue already, but I regularly run into the issue of either inadequate or incorrect comma placement.  Now, don't get me wrong, as far as fiction is concerned, I'm all about maximal leeway for writers to punctuate as they see fit; where I have to draw the line is when clarity becomes an issue.  

In fact, there is no real convention stating whether you shall or shan't run the Oxford in a sentence, as with and without are both grammatically correct.  Some style guides would have you use it, some would not, so there's no legal standing for anything I'm blathering on about here.  

So, to the aforementioned 'clarity' issue.  I think my favorite example that I found (and shamelessly stole) off the internet is as follows:

        At my grandfather's funeral there were two strippers, his wife and his sister.

Can everyone see how this might be problematic?  Let us add the Oxford and see how this sentence changes:

        At my grandfather's funeral there were two strippers, his wife, and his sister.

Not only has this added some clarity as to who's who, but the number of the people at the funeral goes from two, to four.  

Also when the Oxford is omitted, the last two items listed are lumped together as a common subject in the minds of many a reader.  Now, all this can be fixed by completely restructuring your sentence to split up the three listed items, and some would say this is the correct course of action, but who has the time, and who speaks like that anyways?  

If you are one of those who stubbornly refuses to accept the superiority of the Oxford, try looking over some of your past sentences and seeing how much confusion you've caused with your wanton disregard for easy comprehension before again setting out to raise my blood pressure.  

If you want to make God laugh

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'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans' is a well known adage from the Bible, and we have all experienced the truth behind it at different times in our lives. Monday was one of mine!

I was donating a Cindy doll house full of furniture and accessories to a family with three small girls aged 8, 6 and 4. My grandchildren had long grown out of it and as it was well used it was only worth the pleasure it could bring to another generation of children. I had found the children's mother via a neighbourhood App and we agreed a time for her to collect it. When she arrived I liked her immediately. She was thrilled with the doll house and said she would send me pictures of her children playing with it once it was set up. She also made a great fuss of my small dog, saying she loved dogs and had two of her own.

We carried the doll house and the boxes containing the furniture out to her car, which was parked a short distance down the road despite my driveway being clear. It was slightly odd but I thought no more about it after she said it wasn't necessary to move the car, and I walked down the road carrying two bags. Her husband was standing beside it with a large dog on a rope lead, again slightly odd as it wasn't a big car and there were a lot of boxes. I assumed, however, that they were going to take it for a walk before they went home as we live opposite a big field popular with dog owners.

I've owned and been around dogs of all breeds, shapes and sizes all my life so, as any responsible dog owner would, I asked her if I could say hello to him and, when she said yes, held my hand out, fingers safely curled under, for him to sniff. Unfortunately he wasn't interested in sniffing. Instead, with absolutely no warning, no flattened ears, bared teeth or any sign that he was angry or scared, he reared up on his hind legs and lunged at me. His master couldn't hold him back and before I knew what was happening he had taken a chunk out of my upper lip and gouged my nose. There was a lot of blood!!

Now stitched up, I am recovering entirely thanks to the English National Health Service (NHS) which is really what this post is about. Free at the point of delivery since 1948 it has, for many years, been extolled across the world...until recently. Now, every newspaper seems to find a daily criticism and the new UK government is telling everyone it is broken. It is NOT!

I was treated with nothing but kindness from the moment I entered the Accident & Emergency Department of our local hospital. I was given a tetanus jab  and a very strong dose of intravenous antibiotic as an immediate precaution as dog bites are known to cause infection. This was followed up with a 7 day course of equally strong antibiotics and, after cleansing and dressing the wounds, an appointment was made for me to attend the Plastic Surgery Unit of another hospital at 9.30 the following morning. I was also given packs of gauze, dressings and a wrapped pair of sterilised scissors in case I needed to use them during the night. 

By 1.30 the following afternoon I had been stitched up by a very clever and kind Plastic Surgeon who has assured me all will heal with little if any scarring. Before stitching he doused my lips in so much antiseptic  wash I was grateful to be covered in plastic sheeting. He then applied more antiseptic cream before even starting to stitch. What was particularly clever was the way he used a marker to draw my lip curve before he gave me a local anaesthetic. This, he explained, was to ensure he stitched it back into the correct shape. Before I left he double checked all my meds and gave me additional antiseptic cream to use for 7 days.

And it is not only me who has received such prompt treatment. My husband had a very successful hip replacement last year within 2 months of first seeing a doctor and within 6 days of an appointment with the orthopaedic surgeon. So not the long waiting list for him that is so often referred to in the news. And neighbours, and friends in different parts of the country, have all received similar efficient treatment from nurses and doctors who have been unfailingly caring and professional. Some for broken bones, one for osteoporosis, one for oil burns, several for suspected heart problems only one of which proved to be an issue, but all of whom received electrocardiograms anyway to check the symptoms. I could go on. As well,  we receive regular texts from our local surgery asking us to make appointments for flu and COVID vaccines plus now another one for a respiratory virus called RSV. All free. No waiting. Yes, I know we pay our taxes and I know it is becoming increasingly expensive for the country, something that needs to be dealt with, but when we are at our most vulnerable we don't need to stop and think. We know we will be seen and treated. 

Now I am not naive enough to think that all hospitals and clinics are the same. I know that some will be inefficient and that there will be less caring nurses and doctors,  because that is the same in all walks of life. Waiters, shop assistants, police personnel, administrators, chief executive officers (CEOs), anyone in any role can either be excellent, good, moderately okay, poor or dreadful. What is not fair, however, is that the excellent are conflated with the bad so that the whole system is considered to be failing. It is not fair to the huge numbers of medical staff who are doing a good job and it frightens the population as a whole.

Oh and the woman who came to collect the doll house, and who I liked immediately...she has disappeared! She's no longer on the Neighbourhood App and, as I had no reason to ask for her address and phone number until the accident, at which time I was too busy thinking of other things, I cannot contact her. All I hope is that she protects her three little girls from what is very obviously an out-of-control dog that is far too big and strong for its owner. The thought of what it might do to one of them doesn't bear thinking about. 

At the insistence of the medics I reported it to the police but with only a name to go on it is unlikely they will be able to do anything. So my message is, however much you like dogs, think twice before you make physical contact, and don't believe everything you hear about the NHS! It might no longer be the best in the world but it still does what it says on the tin. It's an ever constant, free at the point of entry, caring national health service.

School Days by Helen Henderson

Windmaster Golem
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The blistering heat of summer is fading and the cooler nights are perfect for sleeping. No matter what the calendar says, it is autumn. Leaves start to change color, crops start to be taken in, and there is one more thing that comes with this time of year. Back-to-school is also a September ritual for many students and parents. The students may be excited or dreading their return to the classroom. As far as the parents? Let's just call it anticipatory. 

The experience of back-to-school time has changed as has the methods of education itself. In the 1800s, many students did not learn their lessons in 100-room structures with an auditorium, inside plumbing, cafeteria, and gymnasium with weight room. The school was a modest one-room building. In addition to books, handheld slates and chalk to write on them made up their supplies. Today in schools, computers and digital books replaced the print ones.

A great-grandparent reminiscing with the next generation could be the topic of a social media meme today. The tale starts with with the obligatory, "You kids have it so easy today. Back in my day we had to walk to school, " Then comes the, "Five miles each way, in the snow, both uphill."

In my own version of the story, in good weather we rode bicycles (or walked) the long lane from the house to the road. Inclement weather meant driving us out not only so that we couldn't trudge through the mud but have a warm, dry place to wait in for the bus. Later, as we became of age, the oldest drove a resurrected Volkswagen beetle bug. A small pull-off just big enough to park the car in was hacked out of the brush hat lined the edge of the lane. The area had a line-of-sight further down the hill so that when we saw a flash of yellow, it was time to run out and reach the road just as the bus stopped.

In the world of Windmaster, there is formal schooling and more detailed studies using the apprenticeship system. But not everything is book learning, magic has a requirement of its own ... to recognize it. A brief snippit from Windmaster Golem of the recognition ceremony where an apprentice receives the tools they need as they progress from apprentice to journeyman. To set the stage, Kia heard the ethereal summons but fought it until deciding to attend to support her students.

“There are those who wish to respond but do not yet feel free,” Dal called with both voice and mind. “Let anyone who hears the summons of the fire, come forward.” A rustle went through the crowd as some shifted from foot to foot.

Dollag left the students he had been standing with. His first hesitant steps grew surer the closer he approached the fire. Pride in her student fought with worry that he would select “her” blade. Anger rose over the other emotions. They are unworthy of the Oracle, Kia reminded herself and sought a more harmonious center.

Within heartbeats Dollag had blade and element in hand and presented them to Dal. As the boy rose from the blessing to stand between Dal and Ellspeth’s first apprentices, Kia felt the archmage’s approval of the new journeyman and added her own silent well-wishes.

 ~ I hope you enjoyed the snippit and thoughts on education. Until next month, stay safe and read.   Helen

To purchase the Windmaster Novels: BWL

Helen Henderson lives in western Tennessee with her husband. While she doesn’t have any pets in residence at the moment, she often visits a husky who have adopted her as one the pack. Find out more about her and her novels on her BWL author page.

Fall is coming or is it here? By Nancy M Bell

 

To see more of Nancy's work please click on the image above.

September 2024 is almost half over. Do you think the calendar decides when summer is gone and fall is upon us? I honestly don't think nature pays much attention to our human machinations. I remember an August day back in 1978, I was sitting on my horse having just come out of the wooded valley behind the barn and looking over Bruno Bijoni's  huge bean field. It was only mid August, but as I sat and let the sun fall in slanted beams around me and the breeze sweep across the land to lift my hair, there was the unmistakable scent of autumn in it. It's a hard scent to describe, more experienced than described. It's a mix of dry grasses, disturbed leaf litter under the trees, a cooling of the air moving over the tasseled heads of ripe corn waiting for the reaper and so many other  nebulous but unmistakable nuances.

In my middle years, I so looked forward to the shortening of days, the cries of the wild geese overhead and the whisper of the wind in their pinions as they lofted off the trout pond. Summer was always full to the brim and the dusk of ten pm often found me still teaching a riding lesson, or schooling my own horses. Not to mention the myriad of  chores that spring and summer brings. Haying in June when the weather was always hot and humid, repairing fences, showing horses, braiding manes and tails until after midnight with my own horse always done last after the students. So yes, the shortening days were welcome. A promise of respite and a chance to recharge. 

When I was much younger, fall meant the time we spent at the cottage on Davis Lake in Haliburton was drawing to a close and that was not met with such relief. But oh, the glory of the maple trees burning orange and red and gold against the dark spruce and pine. Their colours reflected in the mirror stillness of the lake. In later years, it was the Rouge Valley that gifted me with the palette of autumn colour as I rode my horse along the well known and loved trails. Even now, so many years later, I can close my eyes and ride down Mosquito Alley, climb Spyglass Hill, look over the flats on the east side of the river from Souix Lookout, ride down the broad avenue that ran along the top of the ridge, the place where I could find  trilliums and lady's slippers in the spring.

Some falls have been open and warm, holding autumn at bay and spreading honey-gold light and heat across the western prairies. Clouds of dust rising into the Alberta blue sky heralding the work of many combines bring in John Barley Corn, wheat, canola, rye and other crops. On those days, fall seems far away and winter even more distant. There is one thing I can always be certain of though, no matter when it arrives, fall will be a'comin' in with crispy days and sharper nights. Jack Frost will paint the trees with colour, although out here in the west it mostly shades of gold and yellow. I trust my nose and my senses rather than the calendar to tell me what season it is. 

Here are some images to get you into the mood.

Until next month, stay well, stay happy.

Writing Gone Astray by Janet Lane Walters #BWLAuthor #MFRWAuthor #writing #Thinking

 

I'm working on a new book The Horror Writer's Demise and halfway through, I discovered a problem. Not with the writing but what I forgot. This is a mystery with a budding romance built into the first of the stories. The heroine and hero will begin noticing each other. The problem came when I realized I'd become so involved with the murder, I forgot the romance. I'm more than halfway done with the book but I'm going back and finding places to focus on what will be a growing relationship.

Was it age or was having the mystery explored that caused the problem? I'm not sure but back to the beginning I go. Then I will start the Regency story I began probably 20 years or more ago. Thi story was put aside when I was taking courses to finish my BA in Nursing. I found this and several other starting outlines for other stories when sorting out my file cabinet. So now it's off and running with romance on my mind.