Do you have favorite words? My guess is you do. Each of us has a preferred vocabulary storehouse from which we draw to think, speak, and write.

My vocabulary storehouse holds some words simply because of how they sound rolling off the tongue. These are the words I use generously—words like quirky, glisten, gladsome, and paltry.

Conversely, there are words I dislike simply because of how they sound rolling off the tongue—words like ointment, moist, and belly. I avoid these words if at all possible.

One word I have invited into my storehouse is peruse. I love how the second syllable hesitates and lingers on the tongue. But because of the way it sounds, I have attached an incorrect definition to it. Here’s a typical way I’ve used peruse in the past:

I had an extra hour, so I went to the bookstore to peruse the stacks.

In this context, I define peruse as thoughtful, happy wandering. According to the Oxford American Dictionary, I am wrong. Take a look at the definition:

peruse :: verb [ trans. ] formal
read thoroughly or carefully | examine carefully or at length

When I wander about the bookstore, I am not perusing the stacks at all. To do so would take an incalculable amount of time. The word I need in this case is skim:

skim :: verb [ trans. ]
read (something) quickly or cursorily so as to note only the important points

As in: I had an extra hour, so I went to the bookstore to skim the stacks.

My WWW verdict? I’ve been using the wrong word because I like the way the wrong word sounds. [sigh.] Now I need to retrain my brain to insert skim instead of peruse. I hope I can learn new tricks.

What about you, my fellow word nerds? Do you play favorites with words because of the way they sound? Let your voice be heard in the poll.

And if your vote was yea, which words or word sounds bug you? Share those in the comments—let’s be bugged together.

You can tell a lot about people by the way they approach a new book.

Do they read the back cover or the inside flap? Do they skim the table of contents? Do they read the last pages first, to know where the story is heading? Do they judge a book by its cover?

Well, I am the sort that reads the back cover, inside flap, and table of contents. I do not read the last pages first, not even for novels. I love the endnotes and bibliography. And yes, I do judge a book by its cover (although I am not so rigid that I refuse to overlook it here and there).

I also read all the other pages before chapter 1—the foreword, preface, and introduction. What’s the difference between these three? I wondered that myself, and decided it would be a great topic for this week’s Which Word discussion. The Oxford American Dictionary gives the following definitions:

foreword :: noun
a short introduction to a book, typically by a person other than the author

preface :: noun
an introduction to a book, typically stating its subject, scope, or aims

introduction :: noun
an explanatory section at the beginning of a book

hmmm . . . very similar, aren’t they? Let’s also check with Dave Dowling in his book The Wrong Word Dictionary:

The foreword (not forward) of a book is a short note at the beginning of a book that usually tells how the book originated. Alternately, a foreword is a short introductory note written by someone other than the author. The preface is a statement written by the author about the book’s objective or purpose. An introduction, which can be written by the author or another person, follows the foreword and preface and tells the reader what to expect in the book.1

Clear as mud? Yes. Here’s how my brain distinguishes between these three sections:

The foreword is an endorsement (the hat tip from some respected person).
The preface is the book’s mission statement (the author’s objective for writing).
The introduction is the vision statement (what readers can expect).

I don’t see much of a debate among these definitions, so I don’t have a typical WWW verdict to offer. But I do have two questions for you this week, which should make up for it.

The first question forms our WWW survey and asks you to choose the phrase that best describes your reading habits, based on the post introduction.

The second question you can answer in the comment section: I’m curious, if you could have anyone write the foreword to your book, who would it be? Do tell!

Oh—who would write the foreword to my book? That’s a tough one. I’d say either Luci Shaw or Kathleen Norris. Or my friend Queenie. (Sorry, I can’t name just one—there are just too many great people out there!)

_______________
Sources
1. Dave Dowling, The Wrong Word Dictionary (Oak Park, IL: Marion Street Press, 2005), 111–112.

Conversation is flowing, discussion is vibrant, and then . . .

There’s a blip on the communication horizon. The sentence you are speaking will soon hit a snag because the word you had intended to use is now up for debate in the unseen recesses of your brain.

Which word is correct?

You slow your speech’s rate of delivery to buy some additional think-time, but the blip is now before you, and you must choose one word or the other . . .

Can you relate to this conversational dilemma? I’m guessing everyone has encountered this frustrating impasse.

I know I have. And my struggles aren’t only with uncommon, multisyllable words—sometimes I get jumbled choosing between words I know well and use often. Then I get tongue-tied as I try to discern between the word options bouncing about in my brain.

Using the right word at the right time makes for an astute speaker who helps the listener grasp the intended message. In honor of clear and concise communications, I’m introducing a post series called Which Word Wednesday.

In Which Word Wednesday, we’ll explore words, word meanings, and appropriate word usage. I’ll even provide resource links and tips for choosing the right word for the context.

I’m not sure if Which Word will appear every Wednesday—some weeks I may be plumb out of ideas!—but my goal is to have regular installments, and they will, indeed, be posted on Wednesdays. (Fancy that!)

Do you have a regular mental battle over the use a word? Submit your word quandaries and conundrums! You’ll likely see them in future posts. Do you have a humorous language-related tale to tell? Share your conversational mishaps so we can learn—and laugh!—together.

Think of this series as assisting in WordGirl’s mission “to fight the never-ending battle for truth, justice, and use of the right word!” (She’s my hero.)

Watch for the first installment of Which Word—coming soon, to a Wednesday near you.

*Check out the all-new Which Word Wednesday home page!

Humans are funny creatures. (Funny ha-ha and funny peculiar.)

Get us together, and that funny factor increases exponentially. We begin to mirror speech and communication gestures. And we do so without realizing it.

This scares me.

What words and gestures do I mimic without conscious awareness? Not sure I want to know . . .

As a language enthusiast, my brain takes note of spikes in word usage and communication gestures. There are currently two spikes that have caught my attention—and my amusement. This post will focus on the first spike; soon I’ll follow with a separate post detailing the second.

The word usage spike I’ve noticed has been on the rise for some time now. You may already be aware of its increased use and overuse and incorrect use. It’s the word literally. Here’s an interesting article written on the subject many years ago—sadly, I think improper usage has only increased since then!

Webster’s defines literal as: according with the letter of the scriptures; adhering to fact or to the ordinary construction or primary meaning of a term or expression: actual; free from exaggeration or embellishment.

When something is literal, it is exact. In proper form, a speaker would label a scenario as literal to signal it as fact or to stress that an otherwise facetious phrase should, in this context, be taken as truth. An example would be:

He was literally running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

Literally signals that a common phrase—running around like a chicken with its head cut off—that is typically used as and known to be hyperbole, is now to be taken as fact in this case. Adding literally tells us this guy must have been dressed up in a beheaded chicken’s costume and was actually running about like mad.

However, if hyperbole was intended—and my guess is in most cases it is—literally should not be included in the statement. We all know that if someone is described as running about like a beheaded chicken they are in fact trying to do too many things at once.

A recent Sears ad correctly—and quite humorously—uses literally:

It makes me happy that language is used in a clever way to make a point. Perhaps this nationwide ad campaign will stir some recognition of how this word has been used improperly.

Although I’m not holding my breath. Literally. (Because then I would grow faint over something so silly as improper word usage.)

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