Spelling, Words Carefully Chosen, and the Errors That Irk Us

from Jacqueline

I am usually fairly good when it comes to spelling, but like everyone else, I make mistakes. I always run the spell-check, because I write for publication in both British-English and American English and sometimes get my s’s and z’s muddled up, and I also slide in the odd programme when I mean program, and colour when I mean color, or vice versa. I hate making mistakes, and try not to be irked when I see others making mistakes in print, whether it be in the actual spelling of a word, in a word out of context, a malapropism or, in an historical novel, a word used that wasn’t invented at the time in which the novel is set. So I could perfectly understand being corrected last week when I spelled “umbrage” incorrectly – thank you, Allie. (I’m also a bit old-fashioned, so I tend to use “an” before historical, hotel, herb, horrific ... apparently that rule is way out of fashion now).



I have some pet peeves of my own. Whenever I hear or read that someone is “chomping at the bit” I want to say, “Champing. It’s champing.” Horses do not eat their bits, they champ, which means a constant gnawing in anticipation of moving. Of course, a purist will tell you that once upon a time, the words had a similar meaning, and in truth they do today – but the word here is champing.



Humble pie is another. The word should be “umble” because the pie in question was made of what was known as “umble” – traditionally the offal from a deer. It was meal made by poorer people, because it was cheap. You would have to eat umble pie or go hungry if, for example, you had lost your money in a wager. Also, in days of yore, it wasn’t only people from London who dropped their “h’s” – even Queen Elizabeth 1st dropped her h’s because that’s the way people spoke then, so eating umble pie, meaning to come down in the world, became mixed up with umble as in humble. But if we are to join those purists, the saying should be that one eats umble pie when brought down a peg or two. By the way, anyone remember these guys?




Humble Pie.


Just recently, reading a novel by a very well known writer who shall remain nameless, in dialogue she described a person’s teenage habits. The book was set in 1915, and the world did not have teenagers until the 1950’s. It’s a relatively new word. And though it was a small error, it put me off the book. Now I know how people feel when they think I’ve made an error in my books – however, I can safely say that most of the time I have an explanation. And if it's an error of language or research on my part, I try to put it right, but you can't always do that when the book's published. (By the way, you would not believe how many people tell me that the word “smog” was invented in Los Angeles in the 1950’s. Sorry – it was London in 1904 at a conference on public health. The “noxious blend of smoke and fog” was described as smog and the word quickly became part of the lexicon, with the particularly nasty smogs continuing to be referred to as pea-soupers).



When I was training to be a teacher – and that really was in days of yore – there was a trend towards completely ignoring issues such as spelling and grammar, and allowing the creative waters to run in the children without them having to be concerned about anything but the story – and that makes sense, to some extent. My approach was to allow the kids to run wild in their stories, encourage them to use new words, to congratulate and support enthusiastic and imaginative storytelling, but to draw attention to some of the words that needed a bit of assistance from the dictionary. I remember when I was at college, I wrote to my mother and happened to tell her that I had been to a certain play and it was mesmerizing. Generally, her letters to me were few and far between, after all, not only was she working hard at the time, but we also spoke on the ‘phone once a week. However, I received a letter almost by return letting me know that I had spelled “mesmerize” incorrectly. And as far as she’s concerned, it’s wrong today in this post, because I’m writing in American English, not British English. For my mother, reading in England, it should be mesmerise, with an “s.” And I could go on about how the punctuation is different too, but that’s just going too far. By the way, when did “spelt” become “spelled?” Or is that another old-fashioned thing? Could it have been lost when those spelt loaves became a staple at Whole Foods? Or was it never correct at all?



As professional writers, our work should be polished, it should not only have the spark of creativity, but be presented to the reader without errors. Oh, I wish. I have yet to understand how a manuscript that leaves my hands with spelling corrected, and with punctuation checked, ends up with all manner of typos and other errors by the time I finally get the book in my hot little hands. One of my editors referred to this phenomenon as our sacrificial offering to the gods of perfection. Personally, I think technological advances in typesetting have a lot to answer for.




So, having given a few examples of the things that might cause a passing frisson of irk, what issues of language get under your skin, when you’re reading a book or magazine? Or when you’re in conversation? Chances are I’ve crossed someone’s line with this post – there’s a spelling, a grammatical error or an issue of style that has rattled a cage. But what, in your opinion, matters, as far as language is concerned, and what really is of no consequence at all?

And while I’m on my Friday soapbox, does anyone have an opinion on the overuse of the word “that” in American writing today? Try going through anything you write and taking out every “that” – it’s amazing how many you can do without, and how much they hamper the rhythm and flow of the language.

I may not be back at the page until much later today. I am having a tooth extracted this afternoon – a very large molar tooth. I am terrified of the dentist, that’s all I need to say. I am a wimp. I have had better Fridays.




Finally, here’s a quote attributed to the poet, Alexander Pope:

“Compose with fury and revise with phlegm.”

Hmmm, each to their own.

And thereby hangs a tale ... or is it only tails that hang?




Paul, I’m sure you have a quip about revising with phlegm ....

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