Confessions of A Grammar Nazi Part Two

Grammar and mechanics are the bread and butter of a proof-reading hack like me. They are the spit and polish that turns a routine entry in the field into a viable candidate for the literate blue ribbon. Grammar and its related mechanics provide not only the skeletal structure of a piece of writing, but the outward trim as well. If done correctly, they are invisible. If done poorly, they stick out like a piece of leftover lunch in one's teeth.

I like grammar. Too much. It appeals to the nerd in me and allows me to enjoy the magnificently analytic processes of mathematics with none of those awkward and annoying numbers. The grammar of my youth was as dry as the ancient (even then) dust-coated blackboards of my junior high school, where we stood at the slates in our mini-skirts and bell-bottoms and diagrammed sentence after sentence in creaky, geeky splendor. I loved it.

And so I will extol its virtues once again. Grammar is the interconnecting network of structure and sustenance that brings random words and ideas to life. Without it, all we have is noise.