Weekly Word News — November 2, 2019

A weekly newsletter-style post of the latest in word news

Shaming Shaming

pronunciation, spelling, social media, manners 

In the UK, Member of Parliament Peter Kyle accidentally tweeted the word boarder when he meant border. And, of course, people noticed and tweeted out their own responses. "Mostly it's kindly or humorous which is appreciated," Kyle tweeted. "Sometimes it's sneering or brutal." Some twitterers even suggested he should resign his position — because he misspelled a word.

Here's the thing: Peter Kyle has dyslexia.

What's the Word? October 26, 2019

Of late I've been discontent with the trajectory of my life, both personally and professionally. I've been feeling like I need to get out there more, to do more, to make sure I'm still connecting with my people and contributing something to the world. (This is the personal bit; feel free to skip down to the actual content below the break.) And I've been racking my brain for what new project I might undertake and perhaps find some fulfillment.

What I really want to do a podcast, but I think that'll take a lot more than I can give to do right. And I'd want to do it right. Maybe someday. (And maybe some other word nerd out there is looking for a podcast partner/co-host? Hit me up.)

But I realized there was something I wish I had that, it turns out, I can actually create for others: a weekly newsletter focused solely on words. Not editing, not proofreading, not grammar — just words, talk about words, news about words, people figuring words out. You know, the good stuff.

But those newsletter services cost cash, and I ain't got none. Besides, I have no idea whether anyone would even be interested in receiving such a thing. Or if I could collect enough stories every week to fill one out. Or if I would even find the motivation to follow through every week on something like that. Because, after all, "Followthr-Oh-Look-A-Puppy" is my middle name.

So here is test case of the compromise between my desire and my wallet: A weekly blog post that collects the week's wordy goodnesses. Who knows; maybe this could turn in to something. (And I'll probably be trying on some different names for it, too. Just watch for it on the weekends.)

Anyway, enough blathering:

5 Podcasts for Logophiles (and Then Some)

Only in the last year have I begun swimming in the warm, infinite ocean of podcasts. And in that time I've found a handful of wonderful islands of wordy goodness. Here are my five favorites, plus a few others I also enjoy. Every logophile should check them out.

The Favorite Word Problem

I sometimes wonder how many times Peter Sokolowski has been asked what his favorite word is.

A Phenomena Phenomenon?

In the last week, I have heard two people who should know better misuse the word phenomena. I didn't think this was word that needed much explaining, but twice in a week? (At any rate, maybe these flubs will be the impetus that gets me blogging here more regularly again.)

Here's how it works:

• Phenomenon is the singular form: The blinking purple light hovering over the White House remains an unexplained phenomenon.
• Phenomena is the plural:  Three or four strange phenomena were occurring there every week, so the city banned food trucks in the clown cemetery.

Any time you find yourself saying or writing "a phenomena," pause and think. Unless you're using the word in some modifying phrase, like "a phenomena-explaining discovery," you want to use the word phenomenon instead.

I have generally been shying away from writing about words from a strictly prescriptivist point of view. I don't want to be the guy who tries to tell you how you must use your language. Rather, I'd like to be the guy who shows you how to do more with your language, and to use it to better effect.

But singular phenomena just won't float. Sure, a couple decades hence we might be having the same arguments we used to have about data being singular or plural, but we're not there yet. And besides, misuse of these two words might be more dangerous than data ever could be.

Legend has it that if you stare into a mirror and say "phenomena" three times in a row, a pair of eerie pink monsters will appear behind you.

Scarier still, if you say "phenomenon" three times, John Travolta will show up and try to recruit you to Scientology.

Although these phenomena are unproven, I advise you to use these words with care.

Buddies (A Mark Flyleaf Story)

The door swung open, and a small but severe young man in a gray, secondhand, pinstriped suit sauntered in. Behind him, filling the doorway, was a wall of a man, six-and-a-half feet tall if he was an inch. He clasped his huge, calloused hands respectfully in front of his genitals over faded denim overalls. He had to duck to get through the door, showing the top of his navy blue newsboy cap that, though it was probably the largest size they made, seemed two sizes too small for his cinder block of a head.

Mark stood. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting two of you. I’ll have Janice bring us another chair.”

The smaller man waved his hand. “No need,” he said. He turned to the larger man. “Have a seat, Lennie.”

Oliver Twist, Zombie Hunter? (A Mark Flyleaf Story)

"Do you know who I was?!" the scrawny blond boy screeched.

"Yes," Mark said, trying to remain calm. "Of course. I understand that—"

"I was Oliver. Bloody. Twist. You hear me? The original. From Dickens' pen itself."

"Yes, I—"

"I've been fan-fictioned, bowdlerized, plagiarized, and reimagined like you would not believe."

"Yes, I understand, but—"

"I've been a musical, a whole slew of movies, and three graphic novels. And now I hear that Oliver Bloody Twist is going to be in a new novel fighting zombies, and I wasn't offered the part?"

Amherst Meets Arkham (A Mark Flyleaf Story)

Mark had just taken the first sip of his morning coffee when the intercom on his desk crackled to life.
“Mark, Emily Dickinson is on line one.”

Mark sighed and set down his coffee. Emily had been calling more and more frequently, and it always turned out the same way.

He pushed the intercom button on his desk and thanked Janice and then picked up the receiver of his black rotary phone.

“Good morning, Emily!” he said, trying to sound exuberant.

Literary Child Stars (A Mark Flyleaf Story)

The following story, "Literary Child Stars" was originally published on this blog on July 11, 2013. I have deleted that post and republished it here to keep it alongside its fellow Flyleaf stories.

---

"Any sign of him yet?" Mark asked into the intercom.

"No, Mister Flyleaf," Janice's voice buzzed through the electronics. "But I have a couple of walk-ins waiting out here who've finished filling out their applications. Should I send them in?"

According to the wall clock, Mark's ten o'clock appointment was now fifteen minutes late. "Are they here separately or together?"

"Oh, they're definitely together, Mister Flyleaf."

Night Hours (A Mark Flyleaf Story)

Mark unlocked the glass front door of the Bureau of Fictional Character Placement and pushed his way in, letting it swing silently closed behind him. The waiting room was dimly lit by the single security light above Janice's vacant desk. She put in her time during the day; Mark didn't expect her to hang around for his night hours. She had, though, left an application on her desk with a memo saying that a new client had made an appointment to see him. He picked up the application and scanned the information. Then he turned and yelped, sending the memo into the air to flutter to the floor.

The grizzled old man standing silently behind the coffee table hadn't been there a moment before.

"Good evening," the old man said in a thick Hungarian accent.