John R. Greenwood

John R. Greenwood

Writer,

Expertise in reading, writing, editing, mashing potatoes, and lighting the world one stolen fire-brand at a time.

  • 4
    stories
  • 913
    words
4
stories for
1
publications
John R. Greenwood's stories for
Show all
thewritewyrd.wordpress.com

The Write Wyrd – Find the Right Word for the Written Weird

This blog is a mash-up of oddball commentary, creative writing, movie and restaurant reviews, science articles, and wikkid punnage (punnage by the tonnage, just weight and see). It’s a collection of my thoughts and some insight into my writing style and content.

thewritewyrd.wordpress.com

Technical Assistance Evaluation

While working at Western University of Health Sciences in the College of Veterinary Medicine, I often built and rebuilt interactive forms for the Deans. Administration often needed a quick, exportable means for faculty to evaluate their own performance, technical assistance, or other aspects of the college. The Technical Evaluation Form is an interactive Adobe form designed to be completed online or printed and completed by hand. All the forms I built for the College were interchangeable between digital and hard-copy as some academicians still prefer long-form.

thewritewyrd.wordpress.com

First Folio BNSF Grant Proposal Example

In 2014, I worked with the lovely people at First Folio Theatre, in Chicagoland, on a series of grant proposals. Theaters are always looking to expand and enrich their physical footprint, all the more for First Folio as they’re one of the best outdoors classical theaters in Suburban Chicago. I worked with them on a series of proposals, writing general language they could forward to a wide variety of foundations. The hybrid proposal in my portfolio is directed at the BNSF Foundation, but was updated in 2016 to include far more than BNSF requires in order to highlight different aspects of a small-request, not-for-profit grant proposal.

Pool water article
thewritewyrd.wordpress.com

Debate Over Wave Pools

As with most writers, I often indulge the delicious egotistical eccentricity of memoir. At the best of times, a good memoir casts just the right skipping stone across the lake of murky memory; expanding ripples offer readers a beautiful illusion of scope, depth, and expanse. At worst, it’s an expose to flash my journal in public. Somewhere in the middle, I find a good memoir either allows me a moment of vicarious adventure or, better still, a tingling déjà vu as I remember my own moments in a stranger’s life.