It wasn’t until I became a writer that I appreciated Shakespeare’s talent as a wordsmith. Can you imagine writing with a rhythmic cadence of ten syllables per line?
What I find most impressive about Shakespeare is his linguistic innovation. It’s estimated that William used well over 20,000 new words in his combined works. Roughly half of those he used only once. Around 1,500 were never-before-seen.
Some words were entirely original. Others he created by transforming nouns into verbs (and vice versa), verbs into adjectives, compounding words never used together, and borrowing from other languages.
A quick Google search yields various charts of words and phrases The Bard of Avon coined. I find it fascinating and inspiring. Here are just a few:
- Fashionable
- Eyeball
- Eventful
- Dishearten
- Bedazzled
- Arch-villain
- Pageantry
- Addiction
- Assassination
- Cold-blooded/hot-blooded
- Star-spangled
Some of Shakespeare’s words never took off– “slugabed” being one of them–though I happen to think this word aptly describes teenagers who sleep in until noon.
A “tanling” is someone tanned by the sun. Inventive and adorable.
“Kicky-wicky” is a gem Shakespeare employed only once to refer to a housewife. Imagine throwing that out at a cocktail party:
“What do you do?” “Oh, I’m just your average kicky-wicky.”Shakespeare’s influence is so ubiquitous, many of his phrases are no longer associated with him at all.
Have you ever found yourself in a pickle? Do you have teenagers that eat you out of house and home? Do you have that hilarious friend who always has you in stitches? Have you ever written something with no rhyme or reason?
Those idioms are, you guessed it, Shakespearian in origin. He was a master at playing on the literal meaning of words to create witty one-liners.
As an author, this lights my fire. Not only do we have the opportunity to entertain readers, we can impact the very language used to relay our stories.
Language is always evolving. Catchphrases and clichés shift according to cultural trends. New words are routinely added to the English dictionary. Among the new words annexed to Merriam Webster in 2017 are froyo, malware, troll (new definition pertaining to internet trolls,) and photobomb.
Are you familiar with the word “hodad?” It’s from The Beach Boys era, meaning, “a non-surfer who frequents surfing beaches and pretends to be a surfer.” No big surprise that word got the ax this year, as do many others when they become extinct.
As writers, we’re often told to avoid clichés. A cliché is simply an overused unoriginal phrase or idea. Sometimes they’re unavoidable. Often, clichés become so because there’s no better way to phrase it. I’m not entirely opposed to them if they’re used sparingly. But, in general, it’s best to think outside the box. (See what I did there?)
So, how can we test the boundaries of language in our writing and perhaps coin a new cliché?
1. Misquote a cliché.
Most of us know that person who always misquotes song lyrics or popular sayings. It’s a fun quirk that can be added to a character.
Marnie took the fake Cartier watch from the jeweler. “I guess all that sparkles aren’t diamonds.”
The jeweler offered up a sympathetic smile. “You mean ‘all that glitters isn’t gold.’”
“Gold? I’m a diamond girl.” She dropped the watch in her purse. She wouldn’t have worn the timepiece either way, but now she couldn’t even sell it.
Tie the catchphrase into your story’s theme and repeat it a few times for greater impact.
2. Lending lingo.
Borrow a word or phrase from your character’s cultural background, even if she doesn’t speak a word of that language. (Beware of Google translate which is notorious for bum translations.)
I like using borrowed phrases in mentor moments. A Hungarian grandmother, a Brazilian neighbor and a Filipino co-worker can lend some sage advice in their native tongue.
In one of my scenes, I wrote “let it go” when my French-Canadian protagonist vents to her best friend. But thanks to one blonde ice queen, that phrase is overdone. The problem is, there aren’t 5,001 ways to express the sentiment. You can say, “move on,” “leave your past behind,” “forget the past,” etc., but they’re all tired.
To solve the problem, I had my character speak in French. One translation is “tant pis” but I didn’t like how that looked to an English reader, so I chose “laisser aller” which could mean to let oneself go, but in this context, it works. The women repeated this phrase to each other whenever one was worked up over something and it ties into the story’s theme.
Clichés exist in every language, by the way, so beware. “C’est la vie,” “raison d’être,” and “crème de la crème” are a few I stay away from.
3. Use a neologism.
A neologism is a newly-coined term, word, or phrase. Teenagers often have their pulse on up-and-coming lingo, so be an astute observer. Merriam Webster’s “words we’re watching” is a good resource.
*There’s a downside to this, because with neologisms, there’s no way to know if something will truly stick or is simply a fad. A decade from now your book might sound dated, but that’s a chance we take with all slang. It’ll be interesting to see if “chillax,” “staycation,” and “binge-watch” are still used in ten years.
4. Keep it catchy, clever and correct.
Clichés become clichés because they’re short, easy to remember, and at the heart of it, true. They stick because they resonate and make us ponder.
One of the methods Shakespeare employed was “verbing,” the conversion of a noun into a verb. We do this all the time, whether we’ve finaled in a contest, tabled a discussion, or dialogued all afternoon. It works the other way around, too. Had a good cry lately? It’s fun to unconventionalize language, isn’t it?
Shakespeare was first and foremost a poet. Pick up one of his plays or sonnets and inspiration will hit. When was the last time you told someone he had a “February face?” In Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare penned, “You have such a February face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness.” That’s far more expressive than saying someone is surly.
Much of our modern-day language we owe to Shakespeare’s creativity and boldness. I wonder if editors today would welcome this same creative license. Would they consider it groundbreaking or playing fast and loose with the English language?
How about you? Have you ever coined a cliché? I’d love to hear it! Two of you cliché-coiners will win a hand-painted Shakespeare quote on an 8x10 canvas. Winners announced in the Weekend Edition.
