It’s called STYLE, for god’s sake.

I worry about writers. They seem so unbusiness-savvy. More apt to lament the reduction in writing opportunities, than learn to work the e-world. One thing writers seem to still know how to do is sell the lie to dreamy eyed wanderers in love with the texture of pulp. Glossy, pink, fibrous — you name it. The print dream lives on.

I hear that the dermatologist will always suggest he remove some discolored chunk of flesh for further testing. This is not necessarily out of scientific rigor, but rather because insurance requires an official “procedure” for reimbursement purposes. The diagnosis is unclear, the fix topical and superfluous.

Bad writing teachers act similarly, scanning the piece for a grammatical misformation. Oh, fragment? Yes, red mark. Minus one for “sentential issues.” They’ve now accomplished a goal. Taught sentential completeness.

Good teachers read for ideas, for story. Good teachers have good enough students that they don’t need to get down to the sentence level. Good teachers read attentively enough that they don\’t mistake a verb for an adjective.

That’s the point where I lose respect. Where my teacher, who talks too long about the one magazine she’s worked for, calls a complete sentence a fragment, and calls the purposeful fragments wrong. On my paper. Me, the SAT grammar teacher. I sit in class and fume for awhile at the utter waste of time this has now become. Mostly, I yell silently at her until I calm down: It’s called STYLE, for god’s sake.

Your thoughts on Marina?