Chryse Wymer and Colons

 (Don't miss the giveaway from Chryse Wymer, included below the guestpost.)

***

Thank you very much, Alison DeLuca, for the space to guest post my final installment on colons, my favorite punctuation mark.

It might seem strange that I have a favorite punctuation mark. However, colons, along with commas, are one of the most frequently misused punctuation marks. Authors seem to be slightly afraid of colons. One author told me that a high-school teacher advised her to never use colons. Bunk!

This month, I’ll be hopping along from blog to blog to share my knowledge on the nuts and bolts of great writing. I am a copy editor, proofreader, and author—published both traditionally and independently. I’m also raffling off Amazon gift cards to get you started on your editing bookshelves. You can contact me at chrysewymer@yahoo.com, or, for more information, visit: ocdeditor.weebly At the previous site, I’ll also be keeping a list of the blogs I’ve visited and the subject matter I’ve shared. The Amazon giveaway starts December 1st and ends January 1st.

I would strongly urge you to view the first installment  regarding colons on Kriss Morton’s blog, The Cabin Goddess: cabingoddess.com It covers the first (and a frequently misunderstood) usage in detail. It’s also the usage that some fiction authors seem to avoid altogether.

Part two on colons can be found at: aliciadean.com/alicias-blog

 

This is the final installment on colons, so let’s get to it.

COLONS – Part Three

The first three usages can be found in the blogs named above.

Fourth, the colon can appear after the salutation in formal  correspondence: <Dear Ms. Dean:>

Finally, the colon separates elements such as a book’s title and subtitle. <WE ARE NOT ALONE: The Writer’s Guide to Social Media>, chapter and verse in Bible citation <Exodus 7:11>, hour and minute in time <7:22 PM>, and similar uses.

Four common Misuses:

1.     Don’t put a colon between a verb and what the verb refers to (object or complement). <She enjoys going here, there, and everywhere> (no colon after going).

2.     Don’t put a colon between a preposition* and its object <they all went inside for a cup of hot cocoa, their winter coats, and a scarf rare books, bone china, and etched glass> (no colon after for).

3.     Don’t put a colon after the conjunction that <he showed that everyone is beautiful>.

4.     Don’t put a colon after an introductory word or phrase such as for example, moreover, however, that said, including <several friends were there, including Sammy, James, and Ian> (no colon after including). However, a colon is often appropriate after a phrase that more formally announces a list (e.g., as follows, the following, including these)

 

Chryse Wymer

*Prepositions are a word or phrase that shows relationships of location, direction, means, agency, etc. between a noun and other words in the sentence. The prepositions object is usually a noun or pronoun. Often, prepositions show this location in the physical world, e.g.: <We went in the house>, <I went over the hill>, <They sat beside each other>.

Thank you for reading, and I welcome you to join me tomorrow on my blog: http://ocdeditor.weebly.com/blog.html

I’m going to cover the top five mistakes I’ve seen as an editor.

 

BIOGRAPHY

Chryse Wymer is a freelance copy editor and proofreader whose main focus is on indie writers. Her clients have been well reviewed, and one was recently chosen as a top-five finalist in The Kindle Book Review's 2013 Best Indie Book Awards in his category: mystery/thriller. For some years, she has been particularly obsessed with William S. Burroughs’s writing, who happened to coin the term heavy metal ... her favorite music. You can contact her at chrysewymer@yahoo.com, follow her on twitter: @ChryseWymer, or like her on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ChryseWymer

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Beacon by A. P. Shepherd + Giveaway

Available on Amazon

Today we're lucky enough to feature an excerpt from The Beacon as well as a giveaway (at the bottom of the post) from A. P. Shepherd.

Shipwrecked on an isolated island...

How far would you go to help a new friend? Would you kill someone?

How do you know what is and isn't real?

When The Beacon beckons safe harbour isn't guaranteed.

 

CHAPTER SIX

Shivering with cold and fear from a violent dream, I woke with a start. The dream faded as soon as I opened my eyes, but the chill remained. Where had the quilt gone? It no longer covered me and did not lie on the floor at my feet.

Early morning light belied the chill. It streamed through a tiny window high in the stone wall, illuminating the room in a golden glow. No warmth remained from the fire I’d stoked the night before.

I looked to the hearth to see if embers remained that I could spark to life. My jaw dropped in disbelief. I rubbed my eyes, yet the image did not change. The hearth lay empty except for the fire grate. Not only were there no embers burning, there was no ash. It had been swept clean.

I shivered again, teeth chattering as I blew warm air on my freezing hands. No wonder it was so cold. But how? And who?

Looking around, what I saw made my stomach clench and chest tighten. What the hell was going on here? My patient, Ruth, no longer occupied the bed. In fact, the bed was stripped clean and all that remained was a moth-eaten, old feather mattress on the bed frame. No signs of what had taken place the night before remained at all.

My body was clothed in my own tattered jeans and sweatshirt, instead of the flannel gown I’d worn when I’d fallen asleep. I still wore no shoes, and my feet were still freezing. What happened to the bloody nightdress?

Shaking with fear and cold, I left the relative comfort of the rocking chair. Again tiptoeing – I always felt the need to tiptoe in this house – I ventured into the corridor. Peeking into the little girls’ room, I was uncertain what I would find and braced myself for anything.

In spite of my precautions, the wind was still knocked out of my sails. The room was empty save for the bed frame also covered with a worn and tattered feather mattress. This house felt so desolate it was as if no one had lived there for decades.

One door further down the corridor, my own room was also vacant except for the bed, bare mattress and rough furniture. No soft furnishings remained. Even the cross above the bed was gone.

No longer tiptoeing I searched the main room. All of the small items, dishes, everything, were gone, but the furniture remained, although it looked even more worn than the day before. The grate here had also been swept clean.

The kitchen shelves were bare. Not even a scrap of food to be found. My stomach rumbled reminding me I was hungry. Starving in fact. I was so hungry I could eat a horse. Where the heck did that expression originate anyway?

I wanted to let the random thought distract me. Instead I examined the remainder of the house. I needed to solve this riddle.

Could someone really have come in and packed up all the household goods, the kids and Ruth, absconding with them in the middle of the night while I slept and not have disturbed me at all?

Was it possible the man wasn’t dead after all? Had he recovered enough to get help? Or to take off with Ruth, the kids and all their belongings? But why would he have left me sleeping and taken off with his family. A more likely scenario would have been for him to attack me while I slept.

After exploring all the rooms on the main floor, I stood before the spiral staircase at the opposite end of the corridor. As the morning progressed more light came through the high windows, making it easier to see. At the foot of the metal steps I looked up as far as I could see. Although there were rust spots here and there, they appeared to be sturdy enough. Grasping the iron handrail, I took the first step, bouncing a bit on the tread to make sure it would hold. I felt no give. Gingerly, I began to climb, clinging tightly to the handrail just in case. There were so many rungs. I began counting them. The iron felt even colder on my bare feet than the slate floor.

At fifty I quit counting, but I kept climbing. At the top stood a trap door. I gave it a shove and it moved slightly. Pushing with all my upper body strength and using my legs for extra leverage, I managed to shove the heavy door until it fell back, allowing me to climb through. The hatch opened into a tiny little circular room with large windows all the way around. Most of the windows were broken and there were shards of glass scattered across the floor so I didn’t venture off the staircase in my bare feet. In the centre of the tiny room was a giant lantern.

This was no ordinary house. It was a lighthouse. The lantern was shattered too. Apparently this lighthouse had not been operational for some time.

Even from a distance I could see much through the windows. Straight ahead the sea spread out in all its glory. Where the sea met the shore stood the remnants of a short pier, most of it under water, the remainder teetering on its supports. About fifty feet to the right of the pier was a crumbling boathouse. I could see holes in the roof, and a distinct lean to one side.

Unable to step forward for fear of slicing my soles, I stood as tall as I could on my now numb toes, to see through the remaining windows. All I was able to make out were the tops of trees.

I felt a little vertigo as I walked back down the staircase. I needed food, drink and something to cover my blue feet.

I also needed to check to see if the body was where I’d left it alongside the house. I turned a little green at the thought. Maybe food could wait a little longer.

About the Author: 

 
"Never stop dreaming or reading." - A.B. ShepherdA.B. Shepherd grew up in Lansing, Michigan, but moved to Australia in 2009. She now lives in the Limestone Coast region of South Australia, with her husband and their imaginary friends. She can usually be found seaside at Port MacDonnell, or lost in a fantasy world.Lifeboat is her debut novel.

Her second book, is a novella titled The Beacon.

If you'd like to learn more about A.B. Shepherd please visit her website at http://www.abshepherd.net/

A.B. loves to hear from readers. Feel free to email her at TheRealABShepherd@hotmail.com with your thoughts regarding her books, or anything else that takes your fancy.

You can also connect with her on Twitter @ABHPShepherd and on Facebook.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Christmas O'Clock

Available on Amazon US

Amazon UK

in print

All proceeds to benefit Water is Life