Stop the Foolishness! Straightforward English, Please

A couple of months ago I ranted about writers (mostly poets) who insist on cutting out every a, an, and the that can be found in their writing. (Weighing the Weight of Little Words) Today, in honor of April Fool’s Day, I want to stomp some sense into those who foolishly insist on using 4 and 5 syllable words when a single, good ol’ Anglo-Saxon word will do.

Some writers are obsessed with finding the bon mot—the good word. And while that is a laudable undertaking, sometimes the mot is not so bon, especially when it detracts from the piece or sends your reader off to find a dictionary.  Recently, I came across a whole slew of this kind of distraction while reading—wait, for it—a book about writing poetry! I won’t post the title or author here, but below are some examples.

Examples of writing that distracts

• Words that have to be looked up in a dictionary. Such as the use of vatic, ascription of lineaments, and involute I found, all on one page. Okay, a couple of these I could guess at. Vatic I had to look up.

• Sentences packed with multiple syllable words. Such as this line “. . . a resumption ventriloquize a naturalistically hesitating unfolding of utterance…”  (Still trying to make sense of it within the context of the chapter. And if ventriloquize is a verb with a singular subject like resumption, shouldn’t it have an “s” at the end? But that’s a minor quibble to the rest of the mish-mash.)

• Odd mutations of nouns into verbs. I do find many changes of nouns into verbs appropriate. However, I came across ironizes. I assume the noun irony turned into a verb is meant to imply that irony was pressed into a phrase. (I envision a heavy cast iron ironing tool of the Victorian age angrily pressing that irony into a limp line. Sigh …)

And to really seal the deal, this author was speaking in these passages about the poetry of Frost and Larkin! Two writers who knew how to stick to simple powerful words.

Poets, too, are guilty

Pundits and professors aren’t the only ones guilty of this effluence of verbiage. (If I may mimic the style.) Often, I’ve found myself listening to a perfectly good poem via an open mic session and suddenly a word like lachrymose, propinquity or perspicuity pops up. First of all, I’m like… what?  I’m taken totally out of the world of the poem. Not only does it take me a moment to remember the meaning of the word, but then I’m on to wondering why the poet used that particular word? Which means I’m thinking about writing, and word choice, and meaning, and NOT paying attention to the rest of the poem. The poet has lost me. Instead of lachrymose, use sad or saddened. For propinquity, why not being near? Or close? And as to perspicuity, what’s wrong with clearness or plainness (the very point of this rant)?

I think where some of the confusion lies is that as writers our business is finding right words. The trouble comes when we simply look at definitions. Yes, that five-syllable word may mean exactly what you want to say, but look beyond meaning to other aspects of poetry that are so important.

Questions to ask about your word choice

Connotation: Does the word you want to use further the images, metaphors, symbols by what the word connotes in all its history of usage? Words pick up baggage and odor over the years. They mutate, clothe themselves in extra meanings. Choose words, when you can, that do extra duty and not just fit a definition. For ex., nearness can mean both a position in space, and in the heart. Propinquity doesn’t arouse emotion the way nearness can.

Music: Does the word fit within the flow and soundscape the poet wants to create?

To put it bluntly, never use tintinnabulation unless you’re writing a bell-chiming poem as did Poe who needed a word with naturally sounding chimes for “The Bells.” It would be hard, I think, to slide perspicuity into some natural sounding rhythm.

Heart: Is your word choice honest, and speaking to the reader in a way that lets the reader enter into the beating heart of the poem/piece? Always go for understatement rather than hyperbole. (Unless, of course, you’re writing a tongue-in-cheek piece.) Think Langston Hughes:

I loved my friend
He went away from me
There’s nothing more to say
The poem ends,
Soft as it began-
I loved my friend

Image: Does the word help to paint a picture? Does it fit within the landscape of the piece? If your poem is about country life or nature, use natural sounding words. Animals, not fauna. Perhaps a simile or metaphor would be better?

Fancy words do not reflect well

My advice? Don’t look foolish. Get rid of those dull twenty-dollar words and spend a dime on a shiny simple word. We write not to show off our vocabulary, but to touch the hearts and minds of our readers. Fancy words put distance between what you’ve written and the reader. Think of those plain-spoken writers who’ve stood the test of time, Hemingway, Alice Walker, Dickinson, Langston Hughes, and Frost among many others.

As a reminder here’s a favorite quote to keep by your side.

“Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.” —Leonardo da Vinci

Links:

• https://www.kaplaninternational.com/blog/learning-languages/eng/how-to-speak-plain-english
• http://www.plainenglish.co.uk/free-guides.html