Paradise Preoccupied

A post on a blog sent by a friend inspired mine today. Titled Musings on the Craft: Eloquence, I’m in complete agreement, but my mind took a wander.

What follows is the comment I submitted for moderation:

In my preteen years, my father handed me his copy of The Elements of Style with an admonishment to learn it all, but at my peril. Himself a slave to the rules for far too much of his adult life, his hope was that I would incorporate the niggley bits well enough to have them second nature and familiar to the point of contempt when appropriate.

Although driven to the destination called Distraction by the all-too-frequently cavalier typist-cum-writer — how many high school teachers dreaded my blue pencil — years of editing the work of others and multitudinous hours online harvesting info for fodder have honed my double-edged sword allowing swift cutting through crap even while noting a less-than-passing nod toward the convenient signposts of grammar and spelling.

Language as a living thing is a creature dear to my heart, and as it evolves, even through such bizarre mutations as text talk and mass rule, I’m comfy enough in the knowledge that the end of this road is beyond my alloted travel time to follow the bouncing ball when there’s enough to let me sing along.

Am I saying rules don’t matter? Nope. They do, and when I rule the world Strunk and White will be served up more often than Big Macs and the ubiquitous doyouwantfrieswiththat will come with punctuation.

In the meantime, however, I’m embracing the ease of communicating in writing that is opening channels and has peeps who had never contemplated what words look like punching in messages left and right.

As I have typed many times: No prob. This is chat, not lit.

So …

thx urgr8