Words cannot express alone.

I do not remember learning to read. While other primary grade students were seeing Dick and Jane run, I was following Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men through Sherwood Forest and aiding them to outwit the Sheriff of Nottingham. When I wasn’t among the boughs of the Greenwood with Maid Marian, I was with Guinevere at Camelot attending mighty feasts for the Knights of the Table Round. Merlyn was my mentor – possibly even my some-great grandfather, and I had inherited magic talents from him that I put to use in my own stories. Language was an integral part of my life, and remains so to this day.

It pains me terribly to read an otherwise beautifully created story filled with syntactial errors, misspellings, incorrect punctuation and unrelated data. It ruins the tale for me. I want desperately to grab a red pen and make corrections! I do not believe I am alone in this. My children and grandchildren feel the same.

I would like to dedicate this blog to the cause of eradicating poor writing!