Cinderella, The Princess Bride, and the NCAA Tournament

It’s that time of year once again. It’s the NCAA tournament, which means it’s time for Cinderella stories to worm their way into our consciousness. References pop up everywhere…about as often as The Princess Bride quotes.

But are you really familiar with the Cinderella story? As Inigo Montoya would say, “Let me ’splain.” A young girl’s mother dies and her father re-marries and then disappears from her life while the step-mom and step-sisters treat her miserably. When she becomes an adult, she continues to unhappily serve the other lady-folks in the family. She’s miserable and weak. She has no backbone and doesn’t stand up for herself let alone strike out on her own to achieve her own goals and dreams. A rich prince invites everyone to “the big dance,” but Cinderella doesn’t go because her evil step-mom forbids it, and she can’t figure out a way to get there on her own. Then lo and behold a fairy shows up and gives her everything she needs to attend. Cinderella doesn’t do a thing to earn it, except to possibly go snag a pumpkin (she’s good at doing menial tasks). Once there, a dumb prince falls for her immediately, and when Cinderella flees, leaving a glass slipper, the apparently-drunken prince assumes that there’s only one foot in the entire kingdom that it’ll fit. He doesn’t recognize Cinderella because she’s back to being a spineless wimp, but the shoe fits, and he whisks her away to a happily-ever-after.

After considering the lovely Disney tale, I have a hard time understanding why the NCAA basketball tournament has so many teams described as “Cinderella stories.” As Miracle Max would say, “I’m not listening.” Mercer ended the season with a 27-9 record…14-4 in their conference to end up in first place, and they won the Atlantic Sun Tournament. Then they went on to beat the #3 seed, Duke. Harvard was 27-5…13-1 in their conference to end up in first place, and they won the Ivy League Tournament championship before defeating the #5 seeded University of Cincinnati in the NCAA Tournament. Stephen F. Austin was 32-3…18-0 in their conference to end up in first place, and they won the Southland Conference championship before going on to beat the #5 seeded Virginia Commonwealth in the tournament. None of those teams was miserable and weak. They won championships. They had backbone. They stood up proudly and met their goals and dreams. They earned their way into the NCAA Tournament. There were no spineless wimps in the bunch. They worked hard. They played with confidence. No one gave them anything; they went out and earned their trip to the “The Big Dance.” They weren’t Cinderella stories. They were Ugly Duckling stories.

As the man in black would say, “Truly you [I] have a dizzying intellect.” Are you familiar with the Ugly Duckling story? As Inigo Montoya would say, “There is too much. Let me sum up.” Some eggs hatch and out come some birds, all of which think they are ducks…one of which doesn’t look much like a duck. He’s criticized. He’s looked down upon. Everyone disregards him, and he’s left to fight it out on his own. And fight he does. He survives an entire winter, emerging bigger and stronger than when he started. When he looks into his reflection in the spring, the Ugly Duckling is actually a beautiful swan. It’s March Madness! He’s in a pond with all the other swans, participating in the big swan dance on the water. He’s overcome the critics. He belongs with the other swans, regardless of the naysayers, because he was a swan just like them, and because he persevered through the long winter.

When those teams from small conferences made the NCAA tournament, no fairy godmother showed up and gave them a spot they didn’t deserve. No magic spell gave them something they didn’t have already. No weak, spineless players lacking dreams and ambitions to pursue them walked out on the floor. Players from teams like Mercer and Harvard and Stephen F. Austin did what they’d been doing the entire season. Regardless of how people all over the nation viewed them as Ugly Ducklings with no chance to win, they played together, winning another game in a long list of games won. They aren’t Cinderella stories because they earned their trip to the big dance. They fought for their goals, and they achieved another victory in a season full of victories—a season marked by championships. When Inigo Montoya was in his swordfight with the man in black, he asked, “Who are you?” The man in black responded, “No one of consequence. Get used to disappointment.” Inigo was good, but on that day, the man in black was better, and Inigo was left disappointed just like Duke, Cincinnati, and VCU.

Cinderella didn’t earn anything. She was given something she did nothing to work for. It was the Ugly Duckling that was scoffed at and looked down upon who wouldn’t quit and emerged victorious. So as Count Rugen would say about your Cinderella comparisons, “Stop saying that!” Mercer and Harvard and Stephen F. Austin aren’t Cinderella stories. Save your Cinderella comparisons for those without strength of character and who are given something that they didn’t earn, and give the Ugly Duckling teams their due.

Before I close, don’t you think I’d “make a wonderful Dread Pirate Roberts”?

Run-on Sentences

Okay, it’s time. It’s time to air a pet peeve. And what is it? It’s the run-on sentence. Why is it time to air my complaint? It’s because I find them in books. Novels. Yes, professional publications that people pay money for because they are interested in reading, expecting the writer to be an expert in his or her craft.

I need to take a huge, humble step backward before I continue. I am a writer too—as well as an English major, an English teacher, and a paid editor—and yet, I also am guilty of making mistakes. I paid a proofreader for Skeleton Key a couple of years ago. She was about 100 years old and wrote in a scratchy scrawl that I could barely read, but I had a train wreck as a major part of my plot. Part of the investigation centered on the train’s brakes. The lady made a note I eventually deciphered to be “I think you spelled brakes wrong.” Well, I pulled out my document and did a word search for breaks and brakes. Of the fifteen uses of the word, I’d spelled it b-r-e-a-k-s seven times. My proofer found it once, but it was enough. I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect others to be perfect. Since, however, grammar and punctuation is part of our writing craft, writers ought to learn what run-on sentences are and learn the myriad ways of fixing them.

One more comment. As an editor, I’m not too bothered with sentence fragments. Often they’re intentional—for emphasis. Often they’re necessary for dialogue to sound natural. I usually leave them as is, but run-ons are simply a matter of punctuation. People don’t speak in run-on sentences because if I were to transcribe their words, I would put in the necessary punctuation. So here is a definition and a quick lesson on how to fix a run-on sentence.

This is the modified, Jeff LaFerney, teacherish definition of a run-on sentence:  Two (or more) complete sentences (independent clauses) that have been joined together without an appropriate conjunction (joining word) and/or an appropriate mark of punctuation.

These are run-on sentences:

1.   Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.

2.   Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles, he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.

A comma does NOT fix a run-on.  So what can be done to fix this silly mistake?

1.   Use a period and a capital letter.  [Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles. He time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.]

2.   Use a semi-colon.  [Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles; he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.]

3.   Use a comma and a coordinating conjunction.  [Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles, so he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.] And, but, or, nor, for, yet, and so are coordinating conjunctions.

4.   Use a conjunctive adverb along with a semi-colon and a comma.  [Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles; therefore, he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.] Accordingly, also, besides, consequently, conversely, finally, furthermore, hence, however, instead, likewise, meanwhile, moreover, nevertheless, nonetheless, otherwise, similarly, still, subsequently, therefore, and thus are examples of conjunctive adverbs.

5.   Make one of the sentences into a dependent clause (or subordinate clause) using a subordinating conjunction. [Because Cole Flint loved to ride on motorcycles, he time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.] You could make either sentence dependent (or subordinate).  [Cole Flint loved to ride on a Kawasaki Ninja motorcycle whenever he time traveled to the Smoky Mountains.] You could even change the order of the sentences when you connect them properly. [Cole Flint time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains since he loved to ride on motorcycles.] After, although, as, because, before, if, lest, once, since, though, unless, until, when, whenever, whereas, wherever, and while are examples of subordinating conjunctions.

6.   Use a non-essential clause or an appositive. [Cole Flint, who loved to ride on motorcycles, time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.] Or [Cole Flint, a lover of motorcycles, time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.]

7.   Hook the sentences using a gerund phrase (-ing verbal that is used as a noun phrase). [Riding on motorcycles was so much fun that Cole Flint time traveled on a Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.] Or [Cole Flint loved time traveling on his Kawasaki Ninja to the Smoky Mountains.]

Before I bore you completely with all the other creative ways I can combine those two sentences, I’ll stop and make my final few points. A good writer needs to have a variety of sentences. Variety in style, length, and verb placement are all ways to make the reading more interesting. Often, therefore, more than one complete thought needs to be joined together. As a writer—an expert at the craft—there are many, many ways to do it without writing a run-on sentence. There are loads of awesome sites to inform you about dependent and independent clauses, conjunctions, semi-colons and commas, and run-on sentences; and writers should make good use of them. A good mechanic knows the parts of an engine and what they do to make the engine run efficiently. A good writer should know his or her craft in the same way. What are the parts and how do they work together to make efficient sentences? Personal pet peeve or not, I believe writers have a responsibility to their readers to produce good writing which surely includes no run-on sentences.

Cole Flint is the main character from Jeff LaFerney's time travel adventure called Jumper.

Common Spelling Errors

As a language arts teacher, I see misspellings so often, I think my brain has been damaged and my spelling skills are deteriorating. I ran into a gentleman a few days ago who read Loving the Rain, and he asked me point blank, “How do you spell rout when it applies to a blowout in a sporting event?” I replied, “r-o-u-t” and he said, “Correct. So why did you spell it r-o-u-t-e in your book?” I could only answer, “Because I’ve been a language arts teacher for 27 years and my brain is mush.”  He seemed to understand. However, I actually spell better than most people, and I happen to talk to people and read things they write quite often. Since I am the wielder of the “red pen” as my blog suggests, I’ve taken it upon myself to determine that there are quite a lot of words that people misspell, and it’s my duty to protect the sanctity of the dictionary and help out my fellow man. The following list of words is, well, absurd.

1.      Acrossed or acrosst instead of across. Like… I have acrossed to bear (don’t be afraid to groan at my feeble attempts at humor).

2.      Conversate instead of converse. Like… While I transmitate some ideas, you pay attentionate. Then, while you respondate, I’ll ignorate everything you say.

3.      Could of, would of, or should of instead of could’ve or would’ve or should’ve. I don’t know’ve and cannot think’ve spelling of with ’ve, so the opposite should be true as well.

4.      Alot instead of a lot. I'll let the following image speak for me. 

5.      Excetera or eck cetera instead of et cetera. Like…I expecially like to use excetera at the end of a sentence when I don’t know anything else, but I want people to think I do.

6.      Heighth instead of height.  Like… The breadth and width and length are all one-eighth of an inch too short, but the heighth (or is it hieghth?) is exactly one h too long.

7.      Interpretate instead of interpret. Like… I’m able to regurgitate spelling words and facilitate spelling lessons, but some day when I lose my mind, I may try to incapacitate the wrong-doer till (’til or until PLEASE) they finally interpretate my irritation.

8.      And while I’m at it, orientate and disorientate instead of orient and disorient are just as irritate-ing.

9.      I could care less instead of I couldn’t care less. Like… “Dude, I could care less. I care a little, you know, but if I chose to, I could care less. I’ve chosen to care a little, however—leaving room for less caring in the future.”

10.  Irregardless instead of regardless. Wikipedia (the Bible of word origins) says that this word probably came from Indiana unless it originated in South Carolina first. I swear it says that. Ir means “not” and less means “without” and regard means “concern,” so irregardless means “not without concern” which is the opposite of the intended meaning—irregardless of how it is used.

11.  Jewlery instead of jewelry.  Any jewlers out there? I asked Google to find me words that ended with lery while I tried to find a witty comment. A word that popped up was “jewellery.” I kid you not.

12.  Libary instead of library. The irony of this is that a library is filled with media that is filled with words, and libary isn’t one of them.

13.  Mute instead of moot. Like… I just made a mute point—“mute” as in that spelling is so dumb I’m speechless.

14.  Nother instead of other or another. Like… Let me make a whole nother point that we should learn to drop our a’s.  A person should be able to remain nonymous, and if we choose to not eat, we can be norexic. Maybe we could noint someone as king.

15.  Probly or probally or prolly instead of probably, and supposebly or supposelly instead of supposedly. I may have sevral diffrent theories about these spellings, but I’m too lazy to write them. (Yep, I’m still trying to drive you nuts).

16.  Sherbert instead of sherbet. I’m going to admit I hate saying “sherbet.” It feels wrong, but at least I know what its supposed to be (and since I just spelled it’s wrong, I should simply mention how much I detest people spelling you’re and they’re wrong also).

17.  Spade instead of spay. Like… He’s a good dog. I’d hate to hit him with a shovel.

18.  Speciality instead of specialty.  Now, using words such as extraterritoriality or inconsequentiality or bipotentiality might make a person sound like they have some intelligenciality, but speciality happens to make them sound silly.

19.  Volumptuous instead of voluptuous. Admittedly, some voluptuous women may be a bit lumpy, but that really is no excuse for this spelling.

20.  Wheelbarrel instead of wheelbarrow. Though barrow isn’t a common word, a barrel is a cask or keg or vat or drum. A keg on wheels is, well, a portable party, but it’s no way to do yardwork.

So there it is. Twenty words (if you don’t count my intentional blunders) for the general population to begin spelling correctly. That’s what “The Read Pin” is for, isn’t it?