[stylist] introduction+bonus grammar request

Wed Jan 5 19:19:28 UTC 2011

Julie,

Elements of Style by William Strunk is an excellent book.  It's short and to
the point and captures many questions of punctuation and grammar.  It's on
Web Braille through NLS and is more than likely on Bookshare as well.--Joe

"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their sleeves,
some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."--Sam Ewing 

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org 
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Julie J
Sent: Wednesday, January 05, 2011 1:27 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: [stylist] introduction+bonus grammar request

Heya all!

I joined a bit ago and have been reading when I can.  I see 
lots of familiar 
people on this list.*waves*

anyhow, I'm Julie. I live in eastern NE with my farmer husband, 
teenage son 
and two dogs.  I joined because I'm currently working on a 
book.   In the 
beginning it was fun and I loved to work on it.  Now I'm in the 
editing/rewriting/fixing phase.  It's not so fun.  I was hoping 
that someone 
would have a recommendation of a book or website that would 
help me with 
grammar.  Some of my sentences just don't flow well and others 
come up in 
the spell/grammar check with no recommendations of a fix.  If 
it makes a 
difference my writing style is very informal and the book is nonfiction.

TIA
Julie

  ----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Donna Hill" <penatwork at epix.net>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Sent: Wednesday, January 05, 2011 12:12 PM
Subject: Re: [stylist] Hoody bit

Brad, Good job. You are a very creative man.
Donna

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On 1/5/2011 9:14 AM, Brad Dunse wrote:
> for a little self-amusement this morning :)
>
> The store manager was new so I suppose you really couldn't 
blame him. I 
> don't think he had much experience in this sort of thing 
before, but after 
> an incident such as this, I'm sure he's learned a thing or 
two. A few of 
> us tried to tell him early on but it was as if he didn't even 
hear us, or 
> as if he couldn't understand us at all. It was almost like he 
didn't speak 
> our language. Well, anyway. we didn't push too hard because 
we had heard 
> he was a bit hot under the collar, though you really would not have 
> thought that by just looking at him. I mean his white pressed short 
> sleeved shirt and bright tan slacks were. hmmm alright. I 
mean the slacks 
> weren't that dark so they were OK. I mean he couldn't wear 
white slacks 
> too or he'd look like a doctor or something, you know, too clean and 
> proper. No, the light tan slacks were OK, too dark and well, 
you know, 
> *spoken in a whisper* the darky slacks. no matter how you try 
to contrast 
> them. because of their color they just send the wrong message 
you know.
>
> I on the other hand, with my official medium sky blue long 
sleeves, neatly 
> pressed chest pockets, stiff unwrinkled collar standing proud 
atop the 
> wide shoulders, sharply contrasted dark blue slacks creased 
commanding 
> municipal respect being tied off at the waist by a shiny 
black leather 
> belt, knew this sort of thing happens from time to time. I might have 
> expected it too from the murmuring I thought I heard earlier 
on in the 
> evening.
>
> I'd say it happened somewhere around 11:00PM, shortly after 
closing time 
> and all the store personnel had gone home for the night. The 
place was 
> dark and only the security lights lit certain areas of the store. The 
> dress shirt section was well lit and out in the open, as was 
the tank tops 
> and plane sweat shirts. Even the wild carefree T-shirts with 
their brazen 
> multi-colored logos slapped on them like cheap chest tattoos 
were out in 
> the open. There were others though that were hidden in the 
shadows of the 
> security lights. If anyone should have been hidden from the light it 
> should really have been the negligees and unmentionables but 
no, it wasn't 
> that way, not like other stores with. well you see, this is where the 
> store manager. well I'm sure he knows now, but it always has 
to come to 
> something like this before anything is done about it.
>
> As I said I think it had to be a little after 11:00PM, shortly after 
> closing time, maybe 11:30PM I'm not really sure. I was standing there 
> quiet-like, the store was all still. And out of the buzzing 
noise of the 
> scantly illuminating fluorescents, I thought I heard this 
whispering. At 
> first I wasn't sure but then it seemed to get louder. Sure 
enough I began 
> to hear these voices and right away I knew what was happening. Their 
> accent and dialect gave them away even in the darkness. As 
the murmuring 
> grew louder I began to pick out what was being said.
>
> "Look at you mon weeth your foncy stripes and pressed 
coalars... get a 
> load ofe deece guy mon... oh... tsk tsk tsk. Aw. Jew popped a coople 
> boatens. Aw Chus like deece one here, dos a shame mon".
>
> I knew right then we had trouble and it wasn't going to be 
pretty. But 
> what was I to do. The manager had me clipped up on the 
display wall with 
> arms stretched out like I was being crucified. I'm telling 
you, I mean I'm 
> not saying? I'm just saying. You know, I think the manager 
had a lot of 
> missed responsibility here. New or not, well anyway, I could 
hear things 
> were heating up from another section ...
>
> "Hey man look at this feller. he's a thinkin' he's purdy 
smart wit dat 
> Rayon tag he's a sportin' there. Well I'll just..."
>
> And then I heard this horrible tearing sound. I mean he made 
off like he 
> was going to rip off just the tag but it sounded like he tore 
the whole 
> arm off the guy. All this was happening just around the 
corner where I 
> couldn't quite get a good look at who the trouble makers 
were, but I knew. 
> Oh, I knew alright. It was easy for the cops to tell too when 
they finally 
> came in the next morning.
>
> But anyway pinned helpless there I heard another scream, I looked and 
> finally I could see something of what was going on just 
outside of the 
> shadows. It was coming from the negligee section.
>
> "Get your hands off me you, you... you... piece of white... 
help! Help!"
>
> I looked over and it confirmed my suspicion. The upper part 
of his garment 
> was the tell tale thing but with Lederhosen? I mean that's an odd 
> combination but these trouble makers, they'll wear anything for an 
> identity that draws attention to them.
>
> All of a sudden the voices got louder. The trouble makers with there 
> accents and dialects were pushing shoving and ripping 
everyone off their 
> hangers. You could hear shirts drop to the floor, some in just a 
> protective fetal position, and others because they were 
yanked off the 
> rack, thrown down and stomped. Screams and torrents of 
obscenities rang 
> out along with fabric names. Cotton, Rayon, Wool, Polyester 
Blend, you 
> name it and it was yelled out just before they were beaten or tore to 
> shreds. If attacking them for their textile ethnicity wasn't 
good enough, 
> the troublemakers began spewing out styles. V-necks, tank 
tops, button 
> down, short sleeve, long sleeve, no sleeve, it didn't matter 
they were out 
> to make their mark in the clothing section of the store. 
cries for help 
> rang out one after another and like I say, there I was pinned 
against the 
> wall in "nail me to the cross" mode, unable to do anything.
>
> Well, by the time the store manager got there in the morning 
every stitch 
> of clothing was tossed on the floor. Buttons lay randomly in 
the isles 
> along with ripped off collars, pockets and sleeves. Hangers 
littered the 
> main isle next to crumpled broken plastic displays and metal tubular 
> hanging racks tipped over. I was lucky enough to have landed 
face down 
> with the top of my display wall propped up against the feet 
of the denim 
> shirt's round rack that was in front of me before all this 
started, so I 
> wasn't crushed. Yes, every stitch of clothing was either 
tore, had its 
> buttons popped, its buckles wrenched off, or otherwise 
destroyed. When the 
> humans walked in only one set of garments was left sitting 
untouched and 
> only slightly misarranged according to size as if they 
scampered to return 
> to the rack before someone saw.
>
> That's when they knew who caused all this trouble. Those 
troublemakers the 
> hoodys. Its always the hoodys, you can't trust a one of them 
I tel ya. And 
> it doesn't matter if they have draw straps, are pull overs or 
zip, have 
> tattoos on their chest like the T-shirts or not. No matter 
what color, 
> solid or multi-colored, they all were there hanging presuming 
innocence 
> while the rest of us lay in a shambles on the store manager's pretty 
> little floor.
>
>
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