William I. Atkinson
Literacy x2
Hi all, and welcome to my new website. Here's some background: I loved SF as a kid, "but when I became a man, I put away childish...
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William I. Atkinson
- Oct 1, 2019
A Disciplined Imagination: the Fiction of Science Fiction
Over the years, too, the odds of accidental death steadily accumulate. I grew up watching Loony Tunes, and know that somewhere out there ...
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William I. Atkinson
- Sep 24, 2019
Notes From a Grammar Werewolf
My middle son coined this term for me when he was seventeen: Once a month, he says, I lift my snout to the full moon and howl whommmm!
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William I. Atkinson
- Sep 24, 2019
For My Wife
Last night I wandered through the moon’s deep dust,
Flung far across an intervening void
By wan Diana, clad in waxen robes;
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William I. Atkinson
- Sep 1, 2019
For My Parents on Their Thirtieth Anniversary
What is a mark in time but reckoning of it?
Each anniversary carries in a small black pouch
Strapped to its belt, a slight reminder
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William I. Atkinson
- Apr 15, 2011
Please Stand for the Stufessor
I was wondering how I could possibly go from semi-retirement to tackling all this when the phone rang.
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William I. Atkinson
- Dec 19, 2010
On Being Proud-Ass!
Grammar rules are like another kind of prescriptive law: The criminal code. Both are useful to consult to avoid errors, or to diagnose...
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William I. Atkinson
- Dec 5, 2010
Rules Are Made to be Broken
There are two main ways of looking at English. You can be prescriptive, setting and enforcing strict rules of speech.
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William I. Atkinson
- Sep 1, 2010
A Stone, a Leaf, a Door
You’re going where? McCaffee’s director said, and McCaffee shrugged. Just driving, he said. The glower deepened; McCaffee could have sworn..
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William I. Atkinson
- Aug 1, 2010
The Littoral
It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good, but of all ills global warming was the illest. The bad stuff was breathtaking...
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William I. Atkinson
- Aug 1, 2010
The Vision Gene
After the postdocs’ lecture, Dr Aspler is back in the classroom erasing the blackboard. He comes to HUMILITY, pauses, leaves the word on...
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William I. Atkinson
- Jan 1, 2010
Night Sky: Liftoff
To pause at the lip of this voiceless place
To wait at the brink of this frozen dream
And feel its dead breath seep through waiting space
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