Obviously, with no posts on this blog in nearly two years, I have trouble keeping up with all the forks I have in the Internet salad. My website takes up most of my time, with articles and essays, discussions on various message boards, a bimonthly Grumpy Grammarian column, and an internal Mudgelog (more a sounding board than a true blog since there's no opportunity for others to coment). Recently, I've also started to participate in Facebook, but I use any other venues mostly to promote my own website. For several years I have been sharing photo albums on Webshots, and this endeavor seems to get more traffic than anything else -- not surprising since many people would rather look at pictures than read words.
We have, I think, an embarrassment of riches via the Internet. I can't speak for anyone else, but I find it extremely hard to keep up with my own projects, let alone those of the rather small number of people in my "social network." Just how many people are going to click on the links in the paragraph above? Probably none. Fortunately, I enjoy writing for its own sake, so it doesn't matter.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Message Boards
I'm not sure whether having this blog has had an influence, but in the past few weeks, I've had a number of new registrants on the Message Boards at my website, The Grammar Curmudgeon. Perhaps having a presence here at Blogger serves a purpose.
Web surfers are no doubt aware that the Internet has many Q&A sites, message boards, and forums on just about any imaginable subject. Indeed, years ago, when I first connected, my main activity on the Web was participation as an "expert" on grammar and writing at a number of such sites. Some of these sites folded, however, and many of them deteriorated because they were not monitored by the site owners and became playgrounds for hackers, spammers, and juvenile delinquents. Few of the people who answered questions were true experts, and the sites were overrun by lazy kids who wanted someone to do their homework for them.
In the meantime, I had established a website and was beginning to receive some queries, via e-mail, about English grammar and writing. Since I was already bored or disenchanted by many of the generic Q&A sites (although a few good ones still exist), I introduced some message boards on my site – a grammar discussion board, a board for ESL students, and a general board that was open for any topic. (I have since added literature and education boards.)
Registration was slow at first, but I now have more than 650 registrants. Only a small percentage are regular, active contributors, but (to my great satisfaction) we do have a small and sociable virtual community. Part of the success of these boards, if I do say so myself, is that (unlike the managers of most such sites) I am not an absentee landlord. I watch what goes on there, actively participate in the discussions, and ensure that the tone remains civil. We have disagreements – grammarians can be a contentious crowd – but "flaming" and personal attacks are not tolerated. I revoke the registration of anyone who steps out of line by being mean-spirited and confrontational (for no apparent reason other than to be a pest), but I haven't had to do that very often.
Sadly, some of what passes for dialogue on the Web is just plain silliness, and a lot of it is nasty. Some people abuse the cloak of anonymity by hurling verbal brickbats, making mean comments and using language that (I trust) they would never make or use in face-to-face conversation. I've seen many potentially good forums become the Internet equivalent of a barroom brawl. It takes only one or two troublemakers to destroy the tone of an entire site.
That's all the more reason why I think my site's discussion boards (limited as they may be) make a useful contribution to the Internet. I guarantee privacy and anonymity and don't link to any spam-generating venues, but I maintain a presence so that anyone who abuses the privilege of anonymity is promptly expelled. I am proud to have several contributors who respond to questions intelligently and participate in discussions with wit and grace. Naturally, I welcome anyone who wants to be part of this group, whether to participate actively or merely to kibitz for the fun of it.
Web surfers are no doubt aware that the Internet has many Q&A sites, message boards, and forums on just about any imaginable subject. Indeed, years ago, when I first connected, my main activity on the Web was participation as an "expert" on grammar and writing at a number of such sites. Some of these sites folded, however, and many of them deteriorated because they were not monitored by the site owners and became playgrounds for hackers, spammers, and juvenile delinquents. Few of the people who answered questions were true experts, and the sites were overrun by lazy kids who wanted someone to do their homework for them.
In the meantime, I had established a website and was beginning to receive some queries, via e-mail, about English grammar and writing. Since I was already bored or disenchanted by many of the generic Q&A sites (although a few good ones still exist), I introduced some message boards on my site – a grammar discussion board, a board for ESL students, and a general board that was open for any topic. (I have since added literature and education boards.)
Registration was slow at first, but I now have more than 650 registrants. Only a small percentage are regular, active contributors, but (to my great satisfaction) we do have a small and sociable virtual community. Part of the success of these boards, if I do say so myself, is that (unlike the managers of most such sites) I am not an absentee landlord. I watch what goes on there, actively participate in the discussions, and ensure that the tone remains civil. We have disagreements – grammarians can be a contentious crowd – but "flaming" and personal attacks are not tolerated. I revoke the registration of anyone who steps out of line by being mean-spirited and confrontational (for no apparent reason other than to be a pest), but I haven't had to do that very often.
Sadly, some of what passes for dialogue on the Web is just plain silliness, and a lot of it is nasty. Some people abuse the cloak of anonymity by hurling verbal brickbats, making mean comments and using language that (I trust) they would never make or use in face-to-face conversation. I've seen many potentially good forums become the Internet equivalent of a barroom brawl. It takes only one or two troublemakers to destroy the tone of an entire site.
That's all the more reason why I think my site's discussion boards (limited as they may be) make a useful contribution to the Internet. I guarantee privacy and anonymity and don't link to any spam-generating venues, but I maintain a presence so that anyone who abuses the privilege of anonymity is promptly expelled. I am proud to have several contributors who respond to questions intelligently and participate in discussions with wit and grace. Naturally, I welcome anyone who wants to be part of this group, whether to participate actively or merely to kibitz for the fun of it.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Nobody Loves Me . . . .
When I was a boy, we kids learned a little self-pitying chant: "Nobody loves me. Nobody wants me. I'm going out and eat worms." Now that my blog has been up for a little over a week and nobody has said a word about it, I am regressing into that pitiful state.
Perhaps, I rationalize, Blogspot, Blogger, or whatever this place is called, is not really that popular. Perhaps, I say, people have been in so eager to dash over to my real website at The Grammar Curmudgeon that they haven't had time to write comments. Perhaps the comment screen doesn't work. Perhaps I'm just boring. Perhaps nothing I've written is interesting enough to warrant comment. Perhaps I should go out and eat worms.
Indeed, I went rummaging about in search of blogs by other people here who have similar interests. I figured that maybe, if I left a message on their blogs, they'd come here. However, I was astonished that some blogs here haven't had a new entry in years. Msybe this is a virtual ghost town, and I arrived too late.
Anyway, I'll keep it up. Maybe it will get a few more visitors to my "real" website. It doesn't matter. I like to write, and I never cared very much whether anybody read what I did. Odd as it may seem, the act of writing can be its own reward.
Perhaps, I rationalize, Blogspot, Blogger, or whatever this place is called, is not really that popular. Perhaps, I say, people have been in so eager to dash over to my real website at The Grammar Curmudgeon that they haven't had time to write comments. Perhaps the comment screen doesn't work. Perhaps I'm just boring. Perhaps nothing I've written is interesting enough to warrant comment. Perhaps I should go out and eat worms.
Indeed, I went rummaging about in search of blogs by other people here who have similar interests. I figured that maybe, if I left a message on their blogs, they'd come here. However, I was astonished that some blogs here haven't had a new entry in years. Msybe this is a virtual ghost town, and I arrived too late.
Anyway, I'll keep it up. Maybe it will get a few more visitors to my "real" website. It doesn't matter. I like to write, and I never cared very much whether anybody read what I did. Odd as it may seem, the act of writing can be its own reward.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Self-Introduction Part 3: Teacher
If, after 70 years, I had to select one word to describe myself, the word would be teacher. Of course, I think that we are all teachers in some sense of the word, but teaching has been, at least part of the time, my profession.
Only a small portion of the teaching that I have done was in the classroom. Indeed, what I was paid to do most of my life was to edit other people's writing. However, as an editor, I seem to have been perversely driven to make myself redundant. That is, I didn't want to just "fix" what other people wrote; I wanted to help writers well enough in the first place that they didn't need my service at all. Unless a change that I made was the correction of an obvious or technical error, I felt obliged to explain why I had made it and why I believed that it was an improvement.
That practice of explaining was partly a result of my apparently instinctive desire to teach and partly a defense mechanism. The people whose work I reviewed were usually educated professional writers. Since many thought that what they had written was "just fine," I was often obliged to explain why my version represented a stylistic improvement.
To some extent, I think that teaching is an inborn propensity that some people have more than others – or at least acquire very early in life. Good teachers have a strong urge to share what they know with others. That's not to be confused with the desire to convince other people to share our opinions – I think we all do that. It is more an irrepressible urge to impart knowledge and to help others to develop skills that we think are useful. It can even be a desire to guide others toward an appreciation of those things that have enriched our lives – things such as art, literature, and music.
Some are more successful at teaching than others. (I won't presume to say how good I am at it; that is for others to judge.) Knowing something is not the same as being able to teach it, although knowledge is a prerequisite for teaching. We've all met people who are experts in their fields but cannot begin to explain what they know to anyone else. A computer wizard, for example, may be utterly inept at teaching a novice how to use a computer.
Increasingly, I believe that teaching is more than just passing on information. People can acquire rote knowledge on their own, although a tutor is useful in explaining the more complex concepts. What matters far more is showing people how to use this knowledge and how to think for themselves.
In my own field, for example, I feel that an ability to write clearly depends heavily on an ability to think clearly. One must, of course, first master the basics of grammar and sentence structure, but most of the problems with my students' writing is more a result of fuzzy thinking than of faulty grammar. Beyond the failure of the schools to teach the basics, a more important deficiency is the failure to teach students how to reason, analyze, and think logically – to perceive principles and connections of ideas. One doesn't learn that by rote, short-term memorization. However, that must be a topic for another entry.
Only a small portion of the teaching that I have done was in the classroom. Indeed, what I was paid to do most of my life was to edit other people's writing. However, as an editor, I seem to have been perversely driven to make myself redundant. That is, I didn't want to just "fix" what other people wrote; I wanted to help writers well enough in the first place that they didn't need my service at all. Unless a change that I made was the correction of an obvious or technical error, I felt obliged to explain why I had made it and why I believed that it was an improvement.
That practice of explaining was partly a result of my apparently instinctive desire to teach and partly a defense mechanism. The people whose work I reviewed were usually educated professional writers. Since many thought that what they had written was "just fine," I was often obliged to explain why my version represented a stylistic improvement.
To some extent, I think that teaching is an inborn propensity that some people have more than others – or at least acquire very early in life. Good teachers have a strong urge to share what they know with others. That's not to be confused with the desire to convince other people to share our opinions – I think we all do that. It is more an irrepressible urge to impart knowledge and to help others to develop skills that we think are useful. It can even be a desire to guide others toward an appreciation of those things that have enriched our lives – things such as art, literature, and music.
Some are more successful at teaching than others. (I won't presume to say how good I am at it; that is for others to judge.) Knowing something is not the same as being able to teach it, although knowledge is a prerequisite for teaching. We've all met people who are experts in their fields but cannot begin to explain what they know to anyone else. A computer wizard, for example, may be utterly inept at teaching a novice how to use a computer.
Increasingly, I believe that teaching is more than just passing on information. People can acquire rote knowledge on their own, although a tutor is useful in explaining the more complex concepts. What matters far more is showing people how to use this knowledge and how to think for themselves.
In my own field, for example, I feel that an ability to write clearly depends heavily on an ability to think clearly. One must, of course, first master the basics of grammar and sentence structure, but most of the problems with my students' writing is more a result of fuzzy thinking than of faulty grammar. Beyond the failure of the schools to teach the basics, a more important deficiency is the failure to teach students how to reason, analyze, and think logically – to perceive principles and connections of ideas. One doesn't learn that by rote, short-term memorization. However, that must be a topic for another entry.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Self-Introduction Part 2: Music Man
Although words have been my main interest and my vocation, the wordless expression that we call music has been an integral part of my life – one of my chief sources of joy. I say "wordless" because, although I appreciate some songs with lyrics, I prefer music that consists of sound patterns that evoke whatever images my mind can create without words to tell me what it means.
I did not come by this appreciation of music naturally, nor did I acquire it by an extensive regimen of formal study. I did play the trumpet when I was younger, but I was a terrible musician. I couldn't play without the notes on paper in front of me, I have a poor ear for music, and I can't sing worth a damn. Yet I had the good fortune in my youth to be exposed to many different kinds of music, and I grew to love it – some kinds more than others.
My introduction to classical music came by playing in the high school symphonic band , where we had band arrangements of certain orchestral pieces such as Sibelius' Finlandia or Tchaikovsky's March Slav, so my original taste was for bold, brassy, and loud. Over time, however, the infinite variety of classical music won me over to much wider appreciation.
Though I'm still likely to return to pieces that I liked at once on first hearing, I learned an important lesson – some music needs a little time for one to get used to it. Originally, I thought that baroque music was simply too weird, and I could hear little in it that appealed to me, but my taste developed, first by hearing modern arrangements of centuries-old classics and then by acquiring a taste for the original versions.
An appreciation of good music is, for most of us, an acquired taste, and I feel very sorry for the many people who deny themselves the pleasure of good music because they are convinced that it "isn't for me" or "I just don't get it." They haven't given it a chance. Perhaps it was force-fed to them and they rebelled, perhaps they somehow got the idea that only snobs and phonies listened to the classics, or perhaps the one or two performances they heard were not well done. That's very unfortunate; they are missing a huge amount of pleasure because of a few negative experiences.
This goes for other kinds of music as well. We can develop our tastes only if we give everything a fair hearing. That is not to say that we will come to like everything. I still don't appreciate grand opera, though I can say that I've given it a fair shot and have even come to enjoy some lighter opera. I do not like rock or rap music at all, though I've certainly heard enough of it (who can avoid it?). I don't share the enthusiasm that some of my friends have for jazz, but I can listen to some types with a degree of pleasure. I enjoy dixieland, but again in small doses and probably only because I played for a while in an amateur dixieland band. I am very fond of some of the instrumental music classified as "New Age," but a lot of it doesn't appeal ro me at all.
A particular project of mine underscores how personal musical taste can be. For several years now, I have put together collections of Christmas music (first on tape, then on CD) to hand out to friends. As this practice has become a tradition, the list of recipients has expanded to 80 to 100 individuals. It's all traditional holiday music (I shun the novelty tunes and the short-lived pop Christmas songs), but I'm always seeking new arrangements that people are unlikely to have heard. Although everyone seems to appreciate these collections and though they are all familiar songs, there is absolutely no consensus about what people like best. One person may rave about a particular arrangement of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," for example, while another may say, "Why did you put that on there?" Try as I may to please everyone, it's just not possible.
I can state with confidence, however, that music – especially wordless music – is a universal language. I will never understand its power to move people, but there is no question in my mind that it does. Tastes differ widely, but we do a disservice to ourselves if we don't at least try to develop an eclectic appreciation of music.
I did not come by this appreciation of music naturally, nor did I acquire it by an extensive regimen of formal study. I did play the trumpet when I was younger, but I was a terrible musician. I couldn't play without the notes on paper in front of me, I have a poor ear for music, and I can't sing worth a damn. Yet I had the good fortune in my youth to be exposed to many different kinds of music, and I grew to love it – some kinds more than others.
My introduction to classical music came by playing in the high school symphonic band , where we had band arrangements of certain orchestral pieces such as Sibelius' Finlandia or Tchaikovsky's March Slav, so my original taste was for bold, brassy, and loud. Over time, however, the infinite variety of classical music won me over to much wider appreciation.
Though I'm still likely to return to pieces that I liked at once on first hearing, I learned an important lesson – some music needs a little time for one to get used to it. Originally, I thought that baroque music was simply too weird, and I could hear little in it that appealed to me, but my taste developed, first by hearing modern arrangements of centuries-old classics and then by acquiring a taste for the original versions.
An appreciation of good music is, for most of us, an acquired taste, and I feel very sorry for the many people who deny themselves the pleasure of good music because they are convinced that it "isn't for me" or "I just don't get it." They haven't given it a chance. Perhaps it was force-fed to them and they rebelled, perhaps they somehow got the idea that only snobs and phonies listened to the classics, or perhaps the one or two performances they heard were not well done. That's very unfortunate; they are missing a huge amount of pleasure because of a few negative experiences.
This goes for other kinds of music as well. We can develop our tastes only if we give everything a fair hearing. That is not to say that we will come to like everything. I still don't appreciate grand opera, though I can say that I've given it a fair shot and have even come to enjoy some lighter opera. I do not like rock or rap music at all, though I've certainly heard enough of it (who can avoid it?). I don't share the enthusiasm that some of my friends have for jazz, but I can listen to some types with a degree of pleasure. I enjoy dixieland, but again in small doses and probably only because I played for a while in an amateur dixieland band. I am very fond of some of the instrumental music classified as "New Age," but a lot of it doesn't appeal ro me at all.
A particular project of mine underscores how personal musical taste can be. For several years now, I have put together collections of Christmas music (first on tape, then on CD) to hand out to friends. As this practice has become a tradition, the list of recipients has expanded to 80 to 100 individuals. It's all traditional holiday music (I shun the novelty tunes and the short-lived pop Christmas songs), but I'm always seeking new arrangements that people are unlikely to have heard. Although everyone seems to appreciate these collections and though they are all familiar songs, there is absolutely no consensus about what people like best. One person may rave about a particular arrangement of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen," for example, while another may say, "Why did you put that on there?" Try as I may to please everyone, it's just not possible.
I can state with confidence, however, that music – especially wordless music – is a universal language. I will never understand its power to move people, but there is no question in my mind that it does. Tastes differ widely, but we do a disservice to ourselves if we don't at least try to develop an eclectic appreciation of music.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Self-Introduction Part 1: The Grumpy Grammarian
As stated in my profile, I am a confirmed curmudgeon – which, for those unfamiliar with the term, refers to (according to The American Heritage Dictionary) "an ill-tempered person full of resentment and stubborn notions." I have a different definition, however. Curmudgeons are individuals (usually male) who have a penchant for noticing the foibles of the human race (themselves included) and thus develop a pervasive attitude of cynicism and skepticism about almost everything – a viewpoint that we make little effort to conceal. We do not believe in political correctness. We may be grumpy, but at least we aren't hypocritical and dishonest.
I've had a serious interest from a very early age in language and writing, though English is the only language in which I am fluent. Given that my talents in writing are limited and that writing is a very difficult way to make a living, it is natural that I became a teacher of writing and an editor. I've acquired considerable respect for people who write and speak well, while discovering that, unfortunately, most people don't respect the importance and power of language enough to care. That in itself has made me even more of a curmudgeon, and I believe that many grammarians and writers develop curmudgeonly traits.
True, some are gentler than I am with people who abuse the language and refuse to learn how to write and speak correctly. True, the reason I became nicknamed "The Mudge" (short for curmudgeon) probably has as much to do with my low tolerance for stupidity in general as it has to do with my annoyance with the way they mangle English. However, like anyone else, I base my impressions of individuals and of people in general almost as much on what they say and how they say it.
If I did not consider words and language to be important, I would not have spent a large part of my life studying and teaching language and literature. Yet that is not the only reason I am a "verbivore," grammarian, student and teacher of English – whatever label applies. Words hold endless fascination, mystery, and, I dare say, even magic. Difficult as mastery of language may be, those of us who study it inevitably discover that language is fun.
I've had a serious interest from a very early age in language and writing, though English is the only language in which I am fluent. Given that my talents in writing are limited and that writing is a very difficult way to make a living, it is natural that I became a teacher of writing and an editor. I've acquired considerable respect for people who write and speak well, while discovering that, unfortunately, most people don't respect the importance and power of language enough to care. That in itself has made me even more of a curmudgeon, and I believe that many grammarians and writers develop curmudgeonly traits.
True, some are gentler than I am with people who abuse the language and refuse to learn how to write and speak correctly. True, the reason I became nicknamed "The Mudge" (short for curmudgeon) probably has as much to do with my low tolerance for stupidity in general as it has to do with my annoyance with the way they mangle English. However, like anyone else, I base my impressions of individuals and of people in general almost as much on what they say and how they say it.
If I did not consider words and language to be important, I would not have spent a large part of my life studying and teaching language and literature. Yet that is not the only reason I am a "verbivore," grammarian, student and teacher of English – whatever label applies. Words hold endless fascination, mystery, and, I dare say, even magic. Difficult as mastery of language may be, those of us who study it inevitably discover that language is fun.
---------------------------------------
People who share my views (and even those who don't) are cordially invited to visit my main website, The Grammar Curmudgeon. If you want to discuss language, literature, ESL, education, or any topics of general interest, you are invited to join our community by registering for the five message boards at that site. Registration is free; only a valid e-mail address is required. You are assured of complete anonymity (if you wish); nothing but your screen name is known to other users. I personally approve all applications to the boards as this approach gives me the option of removing troublemakers. So far, I have rarely had to do that. Participants have their disagreements (grammarians can be a feisty bunch), but I watch closely to ensure that courtesy and civility are strictly observed.
Introduction to My Website: The Grammar Curmudgeon
My website, The Grammar Curmudgeon, has been in existence for about four years. Despite its name, I launched it as a multipurpose site – a way to "publish" some of my own writing and to share family photographs, as well as a guide to writers. It's probably not a good idea to start a website with too many functions in mind. It can become unwieldy.
Once the site was established and had attracted a small following, I decided to add some message boards where people could participate in discussions about grammar, language, and topics of general interest. These boards have turned out to be the chief attractions on the site and now have nearly 650 registrants. The first three boards were a Grammar Discussion Board, an ESL Board, and a General Message Board. I later added discussion boards devoted to Literature and Education.
Since I have participated in other Internet forums and know how easily they can deteriorate into silliness or become infiltrated by troublemakers, I have kept a wary eye on the boards to ensure that they are civil and reasonably mature. I approve almost all applicants, but I can expel anyone who abuses the privilege of participation. Fortunately, I have rarely needed to exercise this option. We have a courteous and constructive virtual community. Yes, we have our disagreements (grammarians can be a contentious bunch), but the tone is always respectful. Only a small proportion of registrants participate regularly, but new topics appear almost every day.
The site also continues to be an outlet for my own writing. However, to keep it as focused as possible, I have taken advantage of offsite venues (linked from the website) to avoid clutter on the site itself. For instance, I no longer create photo albums but instead post my photos on my own photo album page at Webshots, which is much more versatile than my site is for this purpose. This blog is another example of the use of multiple channels. Though my site contains a rather large collection of Essays and Articles (as well as some smaller sections devoted to Grumbles and lighter writing under the heading of Just for Fun), this separate blog gives me an opportunity to ramble, as (you may have noticed) I like to do. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood for controlled writing.
In keeping with its primary purpose, The Grammar Curmudgeon has continued to hold some tips for writers in a section titled Grammar, Words, and Usage, which has such subsections as a Writers' Guide, some short entries under Grammar FAQs, and discussions of frequently confused words under Word and Usage FAQs. I really should do more to add to these sections, but I've found that the Internet abounds with good sites that give tips on writing, grammar, and usage. In fact, a Links for Writers section on my site lists many of those that I consider to be especially useful. Finally, in this general area, I added a section specifically for my students (MCCC Students' Pages), though it is useful for composition students no matter where they are attending school.
Given the size of the site, I have included a Site Map, as well as an Internal Site Search tool (provided by Google), located in its own section and on the homepage. I can't speak for others, but I hate websites that are hard to navigate or contain large numbers of dead links. (If visitors have any problems or locate dead links, I would certainly appreciate hearing about it so that I can correct the faults.)
It should be apparent that The Grammar Curmudgeon is a project to which I am deeply dedicated. I certainly appreciate visitors, and I especially appreciate comments and suggestions for improvement. Please stop by; the door is always open.
Once the site was established and had attracted a small following, I decided to add some message boards where people could participate in discussions about grammar, language, and topics of general interest. These boards have turned out to be the chief attractions on the site and now have nearly 650 registrants. The first three boards were a Grammar Discussion Board, an ESL Board, and a General Message Board. I later added discussion boards devoted to Literature and Education.
Since I have participated in other Internet forums and know how easily they can deteriorate into silliness or become infiltrated by troublemakers, I have kept a wary eye on the boards to ensure that they are civil and reasonably mature. I approve almost all applicants, but I can expel anyone who abuses the privilege of participation. Fortunately, I have rarely needed to exercise this option. We have a courteous and constructive virtual community. Yes, we have our disagreements (grammarians can be a contentious bunch), but the tone is always respectful. Only a small proportion of registrants participate regularly, but new topics appear almost every day.
The site also continues to be an outlet for my own writing. However, to keep it as focused as possible, I have taken advantage of offsite venues (linked from the website) to avoid clutter on the site itself. For instance, I no longer create photo albums but instead post my photos on my own photo album page at Webshots, which is much more versatile than my site is for this purpose. This blog is another example of the use of multiple channels. Though my site contains a rather large collection of Essays and Articles (as well as some smaller sections devoted to Grumbles and lighter writing under the heading of Just for Fun), this separate blog gives me an opportunity to ramble, as (you may have noticed) I like to do. Sometimes I'm just not in the mood for controlled writing.
In keeping with its primary purpose, The Grammar Curmudgeon has continued to hold some tips for writers in a section titled Grammar, Words, and Usage, which has such subsections as a Writers' Guide, some short entries under Grammar FAQs, and discussions of frequently confused words under Word and Usage FAQs. I really should do more to add to these sections, but I've found that the Internet abounds with good sites that give tips on writing, grammar, and usage. In fact, a Links for Writers section on my site lists many of those that I consider to be especially useful. Finally, in this general area, I added a section specifically for my students (MCCC Students' Pages), though it is useful for composition students no matter where they are attending school.
Given the size of the site, I have included a Site Map, as well as an Internal Site Search tool (provided by Google), located in its own section and on the homepage. I can't speak for others, but I hate websites that are hard to navigate or contain large numbers of dead links. (If visitors have any problems or locate dead links, I would certainly appreciate hearing about it so that I can correct the faults.)
It should be apparent that The Grammar Curmudgeon is a project to which I am deeply dedicated. I certainly appreciate visitors, and I especially appreciate comments and suggestions for improvement. Please stop by; the door is always open.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
