The Best New Altered Words
In the Washington Post’s annual Mensa Invitational, readers are invited to alter any word from the dictionary and create a new definition. These are this year’s winners:
1. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.
2. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.
3. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.
4. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.
Words That Flame In The Art Of Racing In The Rain
It has been a while since I did one of these “words that flame” posts because I have been in writing mode myself and don’t read much while in that space. But on a recent long airplane journey I did read Garth Stein’s The Art Of Racing In The Rain and marked passages that seem to speak to me–my words that flame.
A bit of explanation: the narrator is a golden retriever mix whose owner (Denny) drives race cars and is known for his ability to race in the rain. Race car driving is used in the book as a metaphor for living, particularly for living when it seems to be pouring and the track of life is slick.
7 Reminders About Writing A Book
[I dug this out of the cobwebs on an archived blog of mine because I am about to launch a new book project and I wanted to remind myself of its contents. It still rings true so I am sharing it here with minor changes.]
The challenge of writing a book is as much about the process as it is about the content: maybe more. I’m a process kind of person, so I pay a lot of attention to it.
Meaning-Making Is Both Blessing And Curse
…my mind often buzzes with questions about mundane events…
Red Mountain is in close-up view from a picnic area on the southern bank of the Salt River a few miles north of Mesa, Arizona, where the Bush Highway enters the south-west corner of the nearly three million acre Tonto National Forest. I sat there alone at a weathered and rickety picnic bench one day last week, my attention divided between the mountain and a narrow strip of river where a breeze rippled the surface and trout leaped. I had a notebook in front of me to record what I saw, thought and felt.
I Am A Prose Chameleon
I am predisposed toward unconscious mimicry. I first noticed it years ago when, working as a consultant in England, I spontaneously began using the word “twig” instead of “understand” and pronouncing “strawberry” as “strawbry.”
If I am in Canada for a long period (say, three days), my voice rises at the end of sentences. In Italy I exaggerate gestures. I don’t even need to be in a foreign country. Last year, during a visit to Minnesota and North Dakota, I said, “You betcha.” I said it twice. This from a guy who grew up in Philadelphia.
