#comma issues

[maddisondutyyy-blog]

Seriously,

Sam, you are going to be an incredible journalist. I am very impressed in how you write, and honestly a little embarrassed for myself. I cannot lie, I went back and read over my other posts to make sure I didn't say anything stupid. I don't think I did, but I did find many grammatical errors and terribly structured sentences. I have a real problem with commas. It's a sad condition. All is well though, as I am in a writing composition class this year, and hopefully my professor will help me to fix those issues. 

To get back on track though, I am interested to know what kinds of things you like to write! I'd love to hear, and I can't wait to read your work in the future!

Until then! (my cheesy ending line has surprisingly fit into everything... It's kind of sad how excited that makes me.)

Oh, and I tried to make this a comment, but I write too much and it wouldn't fit.

[andillaskforthesea]

One phone call later, and the black car is speeding down the road carrying one driver and three passengers.  As the miles to their destination slowly decrease, the driver gets more nervous.  His fingers tap on the steering wheel, completely out of tempo with the music blaring from the speakers, up ten or twelve clicks of the metronome.  Two miles wind down to one, a half, a quarter, until finally they pull into the parking lot of the dilapidated Chinese restaurant. The driver pulls behind the restaurant, out of sight of the lone customer eating inside.  As the second call is made, the pit bull out back barks and jumps up against his fence next to the open dumpster. But click, the phone call is over, and the car is pulling down the side road, leaving the dog behind in a matter of seconds.  As soon as the house in question is in sight, out runs a well-dressed, strapping young fellow.  The passengers and driver alike breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of him, as he leans in the drivers window.  

"Well hey there everyone... this is good stuff!"

His clenched fist enters the car, then a bare palm is wiped on the back of his expensive jeans before he waves a quick goodbye and retreats to the cover of the house once more, hand clutching deep within the depths of his pocket. 

And so it goes.