Occasionally, people say nice things about my writing. I appreciate it, I mean, I have a great deal of respect for written communication, and I think that it’s part of what I do well at work. Now, expectations are pretty low in the technical world… The fact that you can actually read what I write is generally enough.
So, you may wonder from whence this writing skill came. I have a “nugget” for you, discovered in a closet at my parents’ house last month.
In seventh grade, we were asked to “team write” a prequel to White Fang. I paired up with my good friend David Corris who, like me, was better in math than writing. In talking about the protagonist, a dog named “Nugget” and his friend, we wrote:
The pair gallavanted [sic] until they saw a cave. They entered and took a short nap. The lair was embedded in a small hill. It was shaped like half of an enlarged rutabaga. The floor was veiled with almost everything, including spiders.
Yeah, um, wow. I’m so proud. You’ll never believe this, but rutabaga wasn’t a word that just came to us. David and I pulled out a dictionary, opened it, and went looking for a word for which we didn’t know the definition. We figured that would be a great way to use some really solid vocabulary in our creative writing.
And so I ask you for your support. We must save the dictionary from extinction. If we don’t band together, if we don’t save the dictionary together, however will kids learn to write like this?