Weird Words 5

The fifth in a series of posts about words, taking a lighthearted look at some of the most troublesome, overused, misused, comical, or downright peculiar words in the English language.

All suggestions for words to include in future instalments are welcome—simply comment with your suggestion.

On with this week’s words…

Raccoon

Thanks to Vijaya for suggesting this word—it’s one of her favourites.

Raccoon… hmm, makes me think of Guardians of the Galaxy and, unlike Jar Jar Binks in the Star Wars prequels, a non-irritating CGI anthropormorphic animal named Rocket.

For anyone who doesn’t know, a raccoon is a small nocturnal carnivore native to North America. According to Merriam-Webster, the word derives from the native American language Virginia Algonquian, also known as Powhatan. According to Wikipedia, that language became extinct around the 1790s when its speakers were forced to switch to English.

That makes me feel sad.

Noisome

Meaning highly obnoxious or objectionable; often used to describe a disgusting smell.

It’s one of those words ripe for being misused by the careless writer who chucks it into a sentence without double-checking its meaning.

The noisome explosions surrounded me while I cowered in the foxhole.

Nope. Unless, perhaps, you’re describing the rapid expulsion of air from someone’s backside, or a hand grenade lobbed into a cesspit, explosions are rarely likely to be noisome.

Kerfuffle

Another of those words I love because they sound so much like their meaning. Does a disturbance or commotion sound like a kerfuffle to you? Of course it does.

It apparently comes from a combination of ancient Scots and Gaelic. Probably. It typically refers to a commotion caused by an argument, though can apply to most disturbances.

Since I’m claiming it to be one of my favourite words, I checked to see whether I’d used it in any of my published fiction. Lo and behold, it appears in my first novel, The Village of Lost Souls.

Although the rear wall blocked out the Dead Lights at ground level, they were bright enough to light up the garden like a flare and I was vaguely aware of a kerfuffle coming from the disturbed animals and poultry as I sprinted past them.

See—told you I loved it.

 

That’s all for Part 5. Don’t forget to suggest any words you find weird for inclusion in future instalments. I’ll credit anyone whose suggestion I use.

 

Weird Words 4

The fourth in a series of posts about words, taking a lighthearted look at some of the most troublesome, overused, misused, comical, or downright peculiar words in the English language.

All suggestions for words to include in future instalments are welcome—simply comment with your suggestion.

On with this week’s words…

Definitely

One of those words that is so frequently misspelt that I have to pause to think when writing it. I know Facebook and Twitter are hardly the measure of society’s literacy standards, but it’s rare indeed to encounter it spelt correctly on social media. How often have you seen it written as ‘definately’? Or, my favourite and the result, no doubt, of that curse of modern technology, the autocorrect function:

‘Are you sure?’
‘Oh, yes, defiantly.’

I often find myself reading the post as if the writer meant what they wrote—there’s something almost noble about being defiant in the face of the latest photograph of someone’s dinner.

A good way to remember how to spell it correctly (at least, the way I remember) is to pronounce it in your head as ‘dee-fie-night-lee’, or to remember that it’s the opposite of ‘infinitely’. Best—defiantly best—not to rely on autocorrect.

Serendipity

One of my favourite words in the entire English language. I didn’t even know it existed until one day I happened across it by happy accident.*

A former work colleague—I hope she’ll forgive me if she ever reads this—came across the word for the first time when taking down a customer’s address over the telephone. The customer had called his house ‘Serendipity’. My colleague wrote the address as ‘seven dippety sendipity’. For years afterwards, I kept the yellow Post-it note on which she’d written the address and brought it out for a giggle whenever I needed cheering up.

Collywobbles

If you’ve read my previous posts in this series, you’ll know I love words that sound like their definition. Meaning stomach pain or queasiness usually brought on by intense anxiety or nervousness, ‘collywobbles’ is another beautifully descriptive word completely in harmony with its definition.

(At the risk of destroying the magic, Merriam-Webster says the word probably derives from a transformation of the New Latin term for the disease cholera, cholera morbus, to make it sound less sinister. Hmm, that’s one of those things I’d prefer, on the whole, not to know.)

 

That’s all for Part 4. Don’t forget to suggest any words you find weird for inclusion in future instalments. I’ll credit anyone whose suggestion I use.

 

*see what I did there?

 

Weird Words 1

Here begins a series of posts about words—what could be more apt for a writer’s blog? I’m going to take a light-hearted look at some of the most troublesome, overused, misused, comical, or downright peculiar words in the English language.

Despite the title, not all words featured will seem weird to everyone but, you know, alliteration works well in a title. So ‘Weird Words’ it is.

Only a few each time to keep this manageable. All suggestions for words to include in future instalments are welcome—simply comment with your suggestion.

On with this week’s words…

Irregardless

You’ll sometimes see this word written in place of ‘regardless’ or ‘irrespective’. It makes me cringe because it always strikes me as, at best, a wholly unnecessary word to use when ‘regardless’ does the same job so well or, at worst, plain wrong. It has apparently been used (or, as some would say, misused) for many years; see Merriam-Webster’s tongue-in-cheek response to criticism for listing the word in their dictionary:

is-irregardless-a-real-word-heh-heh

This is probably one of those words that writers would do well to steer clear of. Rightly or wrongly, a writer who uses it is likely to be viewed by some, if not most, readers as someone of doubtful abilities. With all the competition out there to get eyes on our work, why take that chance?

Discombobulate

I’m including this word for no other reason than I love the way it sounds. Say it out loud; and again; once more. What a great word.

It means to disconcert or confuse someone, which is a perfectly satisfying definition to fit the sound of the word. Discombobulate: to confuse. Ahhh.

When starting this section, I was going to say I first became familiar with the word from the episode in Blackadder III* when Edmund Blackadder taunts Samuel Johnson about his dictionary and how it is not, in fact, a complete record of every word in the English language. However, on checking, I discover that Blackadder actually uses the word ‘pericombobulation’. No matter; that is a splendid-sounding word, too.

Moist

On a writing forum I frequent, sometimes a thread will come up about words people dislike. I was surprised when the humble word ‘moist’ became the focus of one of those threads, with the majority of commenters professing a strong dislike for it. Some went so far as to say they hate it.

It turns out that moist is one of the most disliked words in the English language. It’s something to do with people associating it in a negative way with bodily functions or the sexual act. See, for instance:

science-behind-why-people-hate-word-moist

I confess to feeling bemused.

Moist, for me, is a perfectly acceptable word to use in the right circumstances. Indeed, sometimes it can be the most appropriate word to use. Take this sentence from one of my books; it’s from a scene where a woman awakes from a coma in pitch darkness, having survived a deadly virus, to discover her bedfellow wasn’t so fortunate.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand to the other side of the bed, and withdrew it with a whimper when it encountered something cold and moist.

(from The Beacon)

‘Clammy’ might have worked there; ‘damp’, maybe; even, perhaps, ‘slimy’. But, to me, none of those words are as effective as ‘moist’ in describing what it must be like to reach out and touch a rotting corpse in the dark. It encapsulates clammy, damp and slimy all in one hit.

What a clever little word, punching well above its weight.

Sir Terry Pratchett, no less, used it for the first name of a Discworld character. Now there’s an author who could appreciate the merit of moist.

 

That’s all for Part 1. Don’t forget to mention in the comments any words you find weird for inclusion in future instalments. I’ll credit anyone whose suggestion I use.

 

* for anyone who doesn’t know, Blackadder was a four-series sitcom that aired in the 80s, starring Rowan Atkinson, among others, set in various key periods throughout British history. It was quite brilliant and not only hilarious, but could be deeply poignant (anyone who’s seen the final episode of Blackadder Goes Forth will know what I mean).