 Many words can have the same meaning, but there is nuance and
innuendo that might change the entire meaning of the sentence.
Writers have to be careful to use the meaning closest to their
intent. In the modern world, it seems that as long as you get close,
the rest can be inferred. Examples of this are text messaging and
vanity license plates. There is a danger in inferring incorrectly,
however, and that is why emoticons were invented. I have written in
the past about the need for many more emoticons.Writers do not
use emoticons when writing an essay, a poem or a newspaper column,
so we are fervent in our search for just the right word -- almost to
a fault. I would rather leave a blank space in a draft than fill it
with a word that doesn't have the precise meaning I am trying to
convey. Unfortunately, my thoughts don't translate into the written
word without some real effort. That is why I keep Roget's Thesaurus
by my side.
Roget had a type of mental illness that he coped with by making
lists. Many times these lists were divided into categories and
rewritten. The longer the list, the better he felt. The longest list
was a list of words, categorized by meaning. This list eventually
was published late in his life and became the book on which many
writers depend for options.
Should I be concerned that the book I use nearly every day was
written by a madman? I suppose I have to be part lunatic to try to
write while raising five children anyway.
Having a good grasp of word meaning is important to me. I am
proud to say that my 10-year-old uses his vocabulary quite
proficiently, but not without some challenging pitfalls.
For example, he once thought that by "grounding" him I meant to
bury him in the ground. Obviously, I did not make myself clear. He
totally took the wind out of my sails.
[to top of second column] |
 When he asked, while studying history, what a tariff was, I told
him it's a tax on goods. Later I read his worksheet that asked for
the definition of tariff. He had written "attacks on gods." I can
only blame myself for this misunderstanding.
A passage in a book he was reading mentioned the bubonic plague.
He somehow envisioned people walking around with huge breasts. After
I finished rolling on the floor with laughter, I explained, between
hiccups, that "bubonic" is not a cross between "gigantic" and
"boob."
"Actually, one of the symptoms of bubonic plague is buboes, which
is a swelling of lymph nodes."
"So your nose goes limp because you're sick?" he surmised.
"Lymph-ph-ph nod-d-des," I said, emphasizing the ignored but
crucial letters.
"Oh," he said, but I could tell he still didn't understand. I
wonder how long he will hold in his mind the fascinating image of
people suddenly toppling over and expiring under the sheer weight of
their ballooning chests.
It's not the word used here, it's the meaning that is important.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated
columnist, author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
