Words have always fascinated me.
I love playing with them. I’ve coined a few (yumptious, for one), and it
surprises me when, several years later, I hear my word being used by others, as
if it’s always been there. If I mention having made it up, I’m met with doubt.
Such is life.
Because of my love of playing
with words, I notice all sorts of words used by others.
Writers are supposed to be word
people, delighting in crafting stories, and evoking emotions and visual images
through the use of words.
Something I’ve noticed about both
new writers and authors who write book series is a tendency to have a favorite
word – often an ostentatious one – and use it to excess. I’m sure other writers
do the same, but these are the ones I’ve noticed doing it the most.
When I see a new writer doing
this, especially when the most notable thing about the novel is the over use of
a single ostentatious word, I think how unjust it is that they have been
accepted by a publisher and I have not. (To be honest, my muttered comment is,
“Who did they sleep with to get that publishing contract?”) But I don’t just blame the author, I also
blame the editor. The editor’s job is to pick up on things that interrupt the
flow of the work.
When I see a well-known writer
using such words, I think, you should
know better!
I suspect that when an author
reaches some amount of celebrity or success, editors may become loathe to make
recommendations, not wanting to interfere with an author’s style. Perhaps that isn’t
the case, since it is their job to make those recommendations. Possibly an
editor who has been working with the same author over several novels has simply
stopped noticing the repetitiousness of the writing style.
I had a couple of my own bad
habits pointed out to me by various means.
In the beginning of my career as
an OT, before laptops were common, one hospital I worked for insisted on us
using Dictaphones to record our evaluation reports. This was supposed to be a work
saving device. Since I needed to write down everything I wanted in my report so
that I didn’t forget anything essential, it was an extra step for me.
Once I had everything organized,
I’d record what I wanted on the Dictaphone so the secretary could then type it
up. I always proof read what the secretary had typed for accuracy before
signing.
This had two benefits for me. The
first was discovering that the secretary constantly “corrected” one particular verb
in my work. When I told her I knew what I originally wrote was correct, and
what she had put was wrong, since I also had a degree in English, and the
incorrect version was a personal peeve of mine, she agreed with me, but said
her boss insisted that the incorrect word was the right one. I told her (very
respectfully) I would not sign the paper unless she fixed it, and on all of my
papers, I wanted it the way I had written it.
Seeing, “Signed but not read”
horrified me. These were legal documents and inaccuracies, if legal action was
ever taken, could be costly.
The second benefit of being required
to dictate my evaluations is that I discovered some of my quirks. The most
glaring was my tendency to overuse the word, however. Most of the time, it served no purpose, so I strove to
eliminate it from my writing. In the meantime, I asked the secretary to ignore
it whenever I used it on the Dictaphone. She and I had a chuckle over it, and
she helped me improve my writing in this way.
Another bad habit I had was
writing very long, complicated sentences. A teacher in one of my psychology
courses had us write a paper every two weeks. My first paper received a 99%
with a note that my sentences, while grammatically correct, were long and hard
to follow, which was the only reason it didn’t receive a 100%. The second paper
was entirely short, simple sentences. He gave me a 100% with a note, “I see
what you did there.” If smiley faces had been a thing then, he would have put
one on the paper. That new awareness of a style problem helped me immensely.
Having been made aware what
errors I was making in school as well as in my professional life made me more
aware of what errors professional writers make.
One author of a trilogy of
vampire novels took a shine to the word, “rictus” to describe the vampire’s
smile. When I first saw it, I thought, Cool
word! I’ve never seen that one before. Unfortunately, nearly every time
said vampire was mentioned, so, too was the rictus smile.
I’m practically a hoarder when it
comes to books. For me to get rid of a book is something major. But by the time
I finished the vampire trilogy, I was ready to unload those books, rictus smile
and all.
I never saw anything else by that
author, so it’s possible the overuse of the word rictus did him in.
And then we come to author of the most overused
word or description in a series turned into a TV show: Diana
Gabaldon of Outlander fame.
After I watched the first season
of Outlander, I decided to read the novel to see how closely the series followed
the book. The book was rather hefty, and reading an 850-page novel in paperback
without breaking the binding was a challenge, but I committed to the whole
series. The first novel turned out to be the smallest one.
Diana Gabaldon’s scope and
description made it easy for Outlander
to be turned into a TV series. Little, if anything, was left out, although a
couple of things were altered for no apparent reason.
While I was enchanted with the
first novel, I was less than thrilled with Ms. Gabaldon’s writing style and
the lack of sufficient editing.
While the first novel in any
series requires a great deal of detail for setup, subsequent ones don’t. They
can be shorter, but each one of Gabaldon’s is longer than the one before it.
The reason appears to be that
there was too much information introduced in each one. Yes, they take place in
very real, historical periods (The Battle of Culloden and subsequent highland
clearances, as well as the American Revolution), but there were scenes of
violence, and unnecessary characters introduced that did nothing to further the
plot, even in later novels. Many of these instances simply cluttered the stage
with characters.
And then there’s the hair. Jamie
Fraser, the main character is a redhead. This is extensively documented in the
first novel. It might be useful to mention it once in the other novels as a
reminder, or for anyone who might mistakenly start the series with a different
one of the books. It’s quite distracting, not to mention annoying to hear about
the 50 shades of ginger on his head, beard, arms, torso, or elsewhere each time
Jamie enters a scene.
Perhaps I exaggerate slightly. But,
taking out all but one mention of Jamie’s hair being red would cut each book by
about 50 pages.
When I submitted a novel to an
editor, I was told that 500 pages was too long for a first novel, and I should
shorten it – and none of those pages obsessed over hair. How did she justify
850 pages followed by novels of well over 1,000 pages each thereafter?
Not until the seventh novel did Ms.
Gabaldon calm down the mention of Jamie’s hair to perhaps 10 pages of
description. But in that novel she discovered the word dubiously.
There’s really nothing wrong with
the word dubiously except that it’s a showy word. It means doubtfully. Why not
simply use doubtfully? (She never does)
Dubiously seems ostentatious, as
if the author needed to show off a new thesaurus. Dubiously is doubtfully
rolled in glitter. Being more noticeable, its overuse eventually felt like being bashed about the head with it.
This word makes an appearance on
nearly every one of the 1149 pages of novel seven. The author even tried to
coin a new word with dubious as its root (I think it was dubiosity).
I was tempted, when reading this
one, to dress up like Inigo Montoya from The
Princess Bride and say, “I do not think that word means what you think it
means.”
It was a disappointment to see
such glaring overuse of a word that has a simpler synonym by such an acclaimed
author. Perhaps if she’d used doubtfully instead, she might have noticed the
overuse.
My disappointment has inspired me
to suggest a few glittery words that it would be best to avoid, or at least
limit to once in a written work. All of them appeared in Gabaldon’s seventh
Outlander novel. Here are my selections:
Utilize. This means use. Often used by people trying to sound like
experts. It doesn’t make them sound that way at all. It makes them sound like
12-year-olds with a new vocabulary word. If you mean use, say use.
Lessen. This means decrease. It’s been around for 600 years, so
maybe it should be laid to rest. Decrease sounds less awkward.
Orb. This means “a spherical body especially a spherical celestial
body; A sphere surmounted by a cross symbolizing kingly power and justice.”
Using it to mean something circular is an archaic meaning of the word, yet this
is the way it is often meant. Or as a replacement for eyeball.
Bemused. This means “dazed, marked by confusion or bewilderment.”
It can mean “wry amusement, especially from something that is surprising or
perplexing.” Unfortunately, people often incorrectly use it interchangeably
with amused. If you don’t understand the definition, don’t use the word.
A final word I’ve recently seen
misused is partake when the person
means participate.
Participate means to take part in something.
Partake “implies accepting… a share, especially of food and drink.”
Words can be fun to play with,
but make sure you only use the ones you understand. And if they have glitter on
them, use them with caution.
