Words Matter

"The difference between the almost right word and the right word is really a large matter - it's the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning." - Mark Twain

We all know the words we use to describe the world around us matter, but sometimes we don't understand how much they can matter.  We don't realize how our choices can actually change our perceptions and sometimes we don't realize that we are causing harm with our choices.

Authors have a chance to expose readers to different words and descriptions, giving them a chance to expand their vocabularies.  I've been reading Tanya Huff's An Ancient Peace, which uses the gender neutral pronouns xi and xir.  Xi is the equivalent of he/she/it and xir is the equivalent of his/her/it's.  She didn't go into big explanations about them, just used them in a natural way as part of the dialogue and descriptions.  By providing a model, she's made it easier for me (and other readers) to use them in a natural way as well.  

The same strategy can be used for other descriptive terms as well.  As I was editing my latest book, Inquisition, my line editor pointed out a spot where I had described someone's skin as the colour of fresh bread.  She explained that describing a racial group using food terminology can be considered offensive for two reasons: first, it equates the person with something consumable (raising links to slavery and implying disposability) and second, the foods most commonly used for such descriptions (coffee, sugar, chocolate, etc.) actually have links with the slave trade and plantations.  Obviously, it wasn't my intention to be offensive, so I changed the description.  Since then, I've become aware of how pervasive food-descriptions are and how there is a growing pool of non-food-descriptions.  As these become more common, then the potentially hurtful options will fade out.

Some people might argue that the links are too tenuous and that readers/listeners are being too sensitive.  However, there is strong evidence that language choices have a powerful subconscious impact in how we see the world.  A study was done on how people viewed their weddings.  We all know that major events rarely go smoothly, but what they found was that as people repeated the stories of their weddings over and over, their perception of the event shifted to match the story.  At first, people had a mixture of feelings about the event, some frustration, some happiness, some embarrassment.  But as they kept repeating the story about their feuding relatives, or mismatched napkins, or bug in the salad (that one's from my own wedding), the way they told the story changed their feelings.  If they felt the day was "ruined" then the happiness was overshadowed and the whole thing became a catastrophe.  Those who shared the story as a joke minimized their hurt.  But it wasn't just how people told their own stories, it was also about how other people told the story.  If it was presented as a catastrophe, even if the couple tried to make it into a joke, they were less successful.  

That's why I feel it's important to make the effort to avoid harmful language or dismissive language as well as including positive or self-chosen language.  It's a way to help improve the world, one syllable at a time.

Let's Play With The Language of Love

I'm a word nerd.  I love the English language and how it's like the Blob, continually absorbing more and more from all around it.  I love how it's possible to play with it, inventing words and references.  I admire Shakespeare and Whedon for their ability to sculpt with the language, creating whole new worlds of expression.

Words change and grow over time.  Their meaning can change radically over the centuries so as to become unrecognizable.  One of my favourite scenes in Sleepy Hollow was where, after two and a half centuries, Ichabod complains about linguistic shift, picking on the words awful and intercourse.  Awful used to mean "full of awe" and was used for transcendent experiences.  Intercourse used to refer to any type of interaction, not just the sexual.  Abby looks at him and says "So in the 18th century, if I went out with a guy and we had some awful intercourse, we'd have a second date?"

But those aren't the only words to transform.  I was watching the documentary American Slang and they had a whole section on the language of romance.  The very word romance originally meant "Roman-derived" instead of to do with love and relationships.  It became specialized due to two factors: the fall of Rome and the continual use of Latin as a common language.  French, Spanish and Italian are all derived from Latin roots, they are the "romance" languages.  As the Dark Ages progressed, it became increasingly difficult for the geographical regions of the former Empire to understand each other, unless they used classical Latin, which no one used as an everyday language.  Important works, such as treaties, philosophical and religious works, etc. were done in Latin so they could be universally understood.  Popular tales of history, love and adventure were done in local dialects and eventually became known by the short-hand as romance.  (Which makes romance officially the oldest genre of literature, I believe.)

Ever been called a hussy or a floozy?  (Probably not, since those mostly went out as insults by the fifties, but work with me.)  Hussy is a shortened form of hausfrau, or housewife.  Scholars aren't really sure how it came to have a pejorative sense, but it appears to have been a gradual transformation over several centuries.  Floozy is the shifted "flossie" referring to silk-worm floss (as opposed to sensible wool or cotton) and became a derogative term for people (mostly women) more concerned with fashion than their moral characters.

Most people know that honeymoon comes from the tradition of giving newlywed virgins privacy (a month = moon) and alcohol (mead, a honey based drink) in order to facilitate sexual success and encourage conception.  But did you know that mate is likely a shift from the word meat, and meant someone that you shared meat with?  This is in contrast with your companions, who you shared bread with (com + panis, with bread).  Meat is much more valuable and sharing it signified a deeper and more committed relationship.

I'm a firm believer in the power of words and I believe that Archimedes was wrong.  You don't need a lever to move the world, you only need the right words at the right time.  Playing with words can be incredibly satisfying.  I'd love to do a futuristic slang someday, the way Whedon did for Firefly, but I'm still serving my apprenticeship as a wordsmith.  English is a challenging language, always growing and evolving.  Which is why I love it.