Did you really mean to write THAT?

The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug. --Mark Twain

The case of the "enigmatic sponge"
My husband recently received a query letter from a job seeker who claimed to be an "enigmatic sponge." A what? I can hardly begin to guess what that means. A soaker-upper of mysterious knowledge, perhaps? Someone who knows things you can't learn, and so is invaluable? A dude who comes to work dressed as Sponge Bob Square Pants? I find that entire cartoon series enigmatic, so that at least seems like a viable possibility, but I digress...

Despite there being relevant experience listed on the resume itself, my husband wasn't willing to follow up on the sponge part, at least not in person, and so the candidate is presumably still seeking to soak up employment somewhere else.

But that's a shame, isn't it? The job opening wasn't for a communications-oriented job per se, but it just goes to show that if you don't know how to accurately communicate the message you mean to deliver, then you make it harder to get what you need and want out of life.

As writers, you probably think you've got the whole "say/write what you mean, mean what you say/write" thing down cold, right? Okay, I won't argue with you, but I will tell you that in my experience working with corporations, small businesses, non-profits, journalists, other writers, editors, myself, heck--everybody, often times people think they know exactly what they're talking about, but in fact range from being cah-lew-less to slightly off base.

While I can't explain the enigmatic sponge incident, I do at least have a few theories as to why people sometimes think they're saying one thing when they really mean another, and a suggestion for being more clear.

We forget to stop and smell the words
Not to delve too deeply into linguistics, but while many words have synonyms, words are not often duplicated.

For example, there is a nuance between referring to a sheaf of paper and a piece of paper, isn't there? The former leaves less room for interpretation. You probably see in your mind's eye a standard 8.5 by 11 inch piece of white paper--and so will most others who consider the word. A piece of paper, however, might be the same piece of blank writing paper, or else a slip torn from a prescription pad, a smallish square of paper in any shade of yellow with adhesive on one edge, a page torn from your checkbook, and so forth.

But with so many words whizzing past our eyes and ears and into our brains in today's incessant blah-blah-blah, it's easy to absorb them only as a sloppy blob of shapes and sounds, missing their subtle shades of meaning. Noting the differences between words is similar to stopping to smell the roses--when you take the time to inhale each bloom's fragrance, you become aware while all roses smell unmistakeably like a rose, they do not all smell alike, even if each one is glorious and well worth your time.

Words don't wear life jackets
Paddling through our 24/7 stream of communication, it's easy to overlook the fact that some words are just flotsam and driftwood, or are sunk altogether. They are worn out, abused, mutated. Nevertheless, we keep sending them down river, as if their integrity were indestructible.

Here's an example of a word that has drowned in overuse: fabulous. It was fabulous! He is fabulous! What a fabulous time! You look fabulous! (Exclamation points are requisite with fabulous!) But what does it mean?

Fabulous is part "fab", part "ous". The "fab" part actually comes from the Latin for "tale" or "fable". That means, the word is rooted in fiction. It's so fabulous, it can't possibly be true!
How many of us actually think what we're describing is fictional when we say it was "fabulous"?
Probably not many of us. Still, we're fairly confident that what we mean is understood. Since everyone seems to use the word the same way, there's no pressure to be more precise. But that has its dangers...

Words betray us when we treat them carelessly
If we're not choosing our words deliberately, we run the risk of telling the world one thing when what we think we mean is something else entirely. Sometimes, the subtle differences between words are their spellings or their pronunciations.

By way of example, I also recently received a letter. (Why should my husband have all the fun?) It too was about employment and featured a strange word choice regarding my inquiry about contract work with a firm. In it, I was addressed as a "perspective applicant." Thank you--I do like to think I have perspective, but don't you mean to convey that I am a prospective vendor? (All's well that ends well, as we are now working together; here's hoping that I am in fact a contractor with perspective...) Either way, word choice makes all the difference to the message.

Solution: say what you mean, mean what you say
There is another reason our words betray us: We don't know what we actually want or need, and so have no idea how to express it. That's where I dare to swoop in, cape aflutter. For the next several weeks, The ThoughtShops will explore the use of certain at-risk words in our language (which reminds me, we didn't even begin to address the pall that jargon like "at-risk" places upon our language) so that when you are tempted to write or say these words, you will think twice, considering whether you do actually mean them. My hope is that together, by carefully examining one over-used word a week, we can turn your writing--regardless of the genre or purpose--into prose that snaps with unmistakable meaning.

The first word we'll explore is "need," as in, do you really need to participate in this exercise, or do you simply "want" to?

Other words we'll examine:

Want
Crisis
Terrorist
Great
Interesting
Strive
News
Journalist

If you have other suggestions, leave them in the comment section and hopefully we'll get to them, too.

Here's to cracking the enigmatic sponge code!
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