Blogger: Cynthia Ruchti
Words can be fun.
Overheard in many a Panera/Starbucks/home office:
“What are you doing over there?”
“Having fun with words. I’m a writer.”
Serious writers are often…well…serious.
Intense research. Deadlines. Reading books on the craft of writing. Studying technique. Poring over notes from writers’ conferences and webinars. Studying publishing houses and their guidelines. Working on proposals, comparables, and marketing plans.
But serious writers are occupied with having fun with words.
They’re given 26 letters and a game board (computer screen) on which to rearrange them. Writers couple them with others, form sentences and paragraphs and chapters and books.
Rearranging words is more fun–but no easier–than rearranging furniture.
And the end result can be life-changing.
Today, rather than focusing on learning a new craft tip or dissecting a nugget of industry news, let’s have fun. Choose one or more of the words from the following list of The Seldom-Used. Create a sentence in keeping with the genre in which you write.
Special thanks to Dan Dalton of Buzzfeed and John Bagnall for their suggestions of interesting but little-used gems included in this list:
REDOLENT (adj.)–reminiscent of, evocative; (ancient literary meaning–fragrant, sweet-smelling)
HEBETUDE (n.)–lethargy
IMBROGLIO (n.)–confused, embarrassing situation
TORPID (adj.)–dormant, lazy
NOISOME (adj.)–(You’ll love this one.) having an offensive odor (It has nothing to do with noise!)
DEGUST (v.)–to savor a bite of food in order to fully appreciate it
CAPTIOUS (adj.)–nitpicking, fault-finding
DIVAGATE (v.)–to ramble from subject to subject
PERSIFLAGE (n.)–frivolous talk
TARRADIDDLE (n. or v.)–a silly lie or fib; to create a silly lie or fib
TRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA (n.)–fear of the number thirteen
QUIETUS (n.)–death, the end
Have fun with words.
Create a resplendent sentence that will probably never appear in one of your manuscripts. It may prompt you to enjoy your own rearranging as you write.
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Write an Author Bio that Works
“Like, dude, I’m going to the Natalie Imbroglio concert!”
“Got that right, man, ’cause you forgot to put on your pants.”
Oh, very well. For those who aren’t into Millennial Music, Natalie Imbruglia is an Australian singer best known for her single “Torn”, released in 1997.
And, sadly, the discovery of an 18-minute gap in one of Miss Imbruglia’s tapes led to the scandal that rocked the Aussie music industry, the spoken-of-only-in-hushed-tones Divagate.
The merganser swiveled its head at the soft footfalls, rendering the anatidaephobic sous chef incapable of effectuating the execution mandated by the antiquated receipt.
What’s good for the goose is good for the merganser.
As I read “Bridget Jones’ Diary,” I was amazed at the heroine’s CAPTIOUS relatives and the plethora of PERSIFLAGE that occured.
In the torpidity of his hebetude, the man who fancied himself a Proust reborn divagated with a metaphorically noisome degree of persiflage that made the afternoon redolent of an endless high-school history class, and inspired in the listener a longing for that eternal quietus which, it seemed, would be the only thing that would shut him up.
For those who remember the 60s…
* Who can ever forget Persiflage and his Orchestra, who inspired a generation of elevator passengers and dentist-office patients with such stirring hits as “The Theme From A Summer Place”?
Like, dudes and dudesses, I’m chortling and enjoying watching your imaginations take flight.
“Her captious mother-in-law explained for the third time how she expected supper cooked.”
This is a fun post, Cynthia. 🙂 My boys love words. I can’t wait to see how they might use them. 😉
Degusting the last bite of my key lime pie, I torpidly longed for the redolence of home and the quietus of her noisome persiflage, as she divagated about one tarradiddle or another. Placing my fork down and bowing my head, I secretly repented of my captious behavior. Though hebetude now tugged on my eyelids and the imbroglio heated my cheeks, I raised my head and smiled. “Go on.”
*I don’t know. Lol. I tried. 🙂 I needed this. And I love the word tarradiddle because it reminds me of Scarlett O’Hara. 🙂
* Shelli,
* You and I are on the same wave-length today. This exercise reminded me of Miss Scarlett, too!
* The captious neighbor’s persiflage was more than an imbroglio. Indeed, Miss Aggie’s tarradiddle almost brought about a quietus to Sabrina’s bee farm. Contrariwise, those malicious speculations extinguished Sabrina’s reticent hebetude by fanning her aspirations to preserve her heritage in an act redolent of Scarlett O’Hara’s vow never to eat a noisome radish again.
* Fun, fun, fun, Cynthia! 🙂
That’s so funny, Angie. Scarlett’s beloved Tara and fiddle-dee-dee. 🙂 And I’m so disappointed that I didn’t see you at the conference. 🙁
He is a stellar investigator, but his triskaidekaphobia often leaves him in an imbroglio.
*Just a side note: was anyone else disappointed that TRISKAIDEKAPHOBIA doesn’t have exactly thirteen letters? Yes…I counted them.
That’s funny, Angela … 🙂 I didn’t even think about that. But the strangest thing is that I immediately thought of spiders when I saw that word. Even after reading the definition. We have some really scary spiders around our place. 🙂
Ugh. And it’s spider season too! One of the few things I don’t like about autumn.
And if it did have thirteen letters Triskaedekaphobians couldn’t use it to describe their phobia! They’d have to use the abbreviation, Trisket. 🙂
It would make things rather difficult, wouldn’t it?
Related question. Have you ever used an obscure sentence in a manuscript? How? And how did you keep your reader from having to stop reading to look up its meaning?
Good question, Cynthia. I sometimes use jargon (weapons-or-tactical related), and I never explain it. Instead I use context and sometimes dialogue to make it at least tolerably clear.
* I’ve found that readers often resent being spoonfed; they would rather have to puzzle through the meaning of a ‘real’ sentence on their own rather than have it dumbed-down.
* As an example, a scene in which a door is to be dynamically opened during an building takedown:
—
Paddy tried the handle, and finding that the door was locked, put his fist to the front of his helmet and stepped back. The breacher moved to the head of the stack as he removed a charge from its pouch.
—
* This describes the choreography of door-breaching; the stack is the assault team, and the first man is charged with checking the door to see if it might be open. If not, he taps his helmet with a first to signal for the breacher – the door-opening specialist with his explosive charges – to come up and gain entry, at the same time moving back to give the breacher room to work. Nothing need be said; the breacher is watching the lead, and will take his place if the signal’s given. Hollywood loves to have the phrase, “Breacher up!” shouted, but it just doesn’t happen except if line-of-sight is compromised.
* So, my question…does my literary vignette tell the story described by the longer exposition well enough to keep the flow?
Yes. Great story telling of that scene without having to stop to explain.
Also related, did you notice that graminivorous (in the last image) has nothing to do with grammar? Curious, this language.
And you don’t use a potholder to grasp a marijuana cigarette. (Sorry, that was the very first thing that came to mind, and today I am so ill that there is NO filter, hahaha.)
* Medicinal marijuana is legal where I live, but no thanks, not ever. Prefer to keep my head on straight.
The torpid rabbit tried to evade his captious mother’s anger with a tarradiddle, but it didn’t work.
Oh, so fun! I love games and challenges. Here goes…
I was sure the young woman in the crisp white cotton shirt with the glowing skin would be redolent. But, when I approached her to introduce myself, I recoiled inwardly, as I found her to be noisome and captious. Filling the air between us with persiflage, she annoyed me to the level that I wished for quietus. I have since come up with a tarradiddle should I ever have to escaped another imbroglio with her or anyone else of that same nature.
Quietus was actually the name of a character in the first novel I ever wrote. It was a fantasy novel, and he was a soft-spoken pacifist mage who ended up sacrificing himself to save the world. I thought I was very clever. Writing your first novel is a learning experience. What I learned is to never let anyone read that first novel.
Or, to use a word you created, as I did recently in a blog post. I don’t believe it will need an explanation.
.
It’s hard to be blogivated when you’re as discombobulated as I’ve been recently.
Oh, David…too much mirror-ball and Bee Gees lately? (After all, the root is discombobulated IS ‘disco…)
* Actually, the bBe Gees have my anthem…’cause I’m stayin’ alive.
I don’t know, Andrew. I skipped the whole disco era. Went straight from rock and roll to 70s Christian music. I liked the Bee Gees before the disco era.
I love the Bee Gees, Andrew! Oh, man … their songs can take me back in time so fast. Like … being at the skating rink with my sister. 🙂
Actually, David, I never quite got past Creedence and Buffalo Springfield. Still have tie-dyes, and a lava lamp.
Shelli, skating! yes! When I meet you in Heaven, may I have the second dance (first is with God, of course)…on roller skates?
That dance is yours, Andrew. On roller skates. I was never too good at skating. I had to run into the wall to stop, lol. 🙂 But I still loved the moments.
Shelli, looking forward to it! 🙂
The excess of persiflage swirling around Celia, as she rang up her customer, caused her to ponder the torpid quietus she longed for.