Close Enough
I spend a good bit of my life writing things that I don't find interesting at all.
Yet when I do find myself writing something worthwhile, there is almost always one constant: I'm using a thesaurus.
It used to be this red book with half the cover torn off. Published in 1990. I think I picked it up at my first newspaper job almost 15 years ago.
Googling "thesaurus" doesn't seem nearly as artistic or sentimental, but in truth, it opens up a lot more in the way of possibilities to express something.
And that's what's at the center of it.
When you're trying to share a nuanced idea in a conversation, you might say, "Hold on ... I'm trying to find the right word ..."
Of course, you don't pick up a thesaurus.
You feel what it is that's in your mind and connect with the words.
Recently, I struggled with the best way to describe an unexpected event.
"Shocking" just seems so overused and non-specific and tabloid.
The idea was more subtle.
"Startlingly."
That was it. It was the perfect word for what I was trying to say.
It's like you tap into your life experiences, compare them with others and rely on a resource to offer you the best possible ways to share how you internalize an idea.
I know I'm writing something that is precious to me if I care enough to find a better way to share even the simplest of ideas.
P.S. - I probably should have used a thesaurus to write this.
1 comment:
There is such a thing as passion for words or language. Finding the word that expresses EXACTLY what one means demonstrates the versatility of our language while simultaneously opening the door for other more philosophical questions such as how words are used to convey ideas from one individual to the other, and how important it is that both people have the same understanding of the words, style, and even syntax for that idea to be clearly expressed.
It really is sublime.
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