“Parataxis is like this. It’s good, plain English. It’s one sentence. Then it’s another sentence. It’s direct. It’s farmer’s English. You don’t want to buy my cattle. They’re good cattle. You don’t know cattle. I’m going to have a drink. Then I’m going to break your jaw. I’m a paratactic farmer. My cattle are the best in England.
“Parataxis is the natural way of speaking English. It’s the way English wants to be spoken.”
—Mark Forsyth, Elements of Eloquence
Once upon a time, I was a little girl. I was making a picture and thinking of how wonderful it would be if this could be a real job; something I could do when I was all grown up. But my sagely 7-year-old self knew I’d have to be in an office with a computer that had a spreadsheet on it. That’s what grown ups had to do. That’s what I saw my father do.
Then I grew up, and noted with amusement how that real job worked out—a graphic designer, I made pictures for a living…in an office, on a computer, which had the occasional spreadsheet on it when I was an independent contractor, keeping my own records.
When I became a full-time Mum, with most of my time occupied by my small new people, this website was a parenting blog—but I found limiting myself to that niche was frustrating. And boring. I’m a mother, but that’s not all there is to me! So I revamped it to become a nicheless blog of paratactic monologue—that means, I talk about what I like, how I like. And it’s worked out pretty well so far.
I’d kept my design and writing skills current throughout my professional break, and I resumed my contracting when the boys were old enough to go butter their own toast, thank you very much.
I also like to write fiction, for no other reason than that I want to.
I love coffee (specifically, Gravity—try some and thank me later), books, digital piano, and yellow—because it’s a happy colour. I live in New Zealand with my husband, three computers, two sons, and a partridge in a pear tree. Except for the partridge in a pear tree.
