by Roseanna White | Aug 1, 2011 | Word of the Week
I grew up in West Virginia. My house was on a hill above a farm, the Potomac River surrounding it on three sides–which means Maryland on three sides, for all you folks who aren’t intimately acquainted with mid-Atlantic geography. 😉 For the most part, people from my school, my town, had a pretty standard American accent and sound grammar. But we had our share of country accents around, too.
So I heard a lot of ain’t over the years. And because I was apparently born with the grammar gene, acutely aware of what I did not want to sound like, and because my teachers taught me ain’t was incorrect, I never used it. Well, except when making a point. Or trying to sound a certain way. But then it was a purposeful use of what I deemed something incorrect, so . . . 😉
But ain’t was used a lot back in ye olden days, so in my current work in progress, I had a few characters use it. Then I thought I’d better look it up to make sure it was in fact a contraction in use at the time. And I was pretty surprised with what I found.
Namely, that ain’t began as a correct contraction for “am not” back in 1706. So it was perfectly fine to say “I ain’t going.” Use of it abounded, and all was well for a century or so.
Then people started using it for “are not” and “is not” . . . which was wrong. “You ain’t what you seem” just didn’t fly. This mis-use apparently started in London as part of the cockney accent, which Charles Dickens picked up on and immortalized. All of a sudden it’s a mistake the English-speaking world over. One used so very mistakenly, and in ways that it’s pretty hard to say “No, no, that one’s wrong but this one’s right,” that it was banned from correct grammar altogether.
A rather funny life of a word, isn’t it? I still ain’t likely to use it much, even knowing its etymology and correct usage now–but you can bet if I do, I ain’t going to use it the wrong way. 😉
by Roseanna White | Jul 25, 2011 | Word of the Week
I’m in the process of putting a book proposal together . . . which naturally gets me to thinking about the word. As a kid, I had no idea the family of “propose” words could mean anything other than asking someone to marry them–until, of course, I read or watched something where their was a comedy of errors around this very thing.
But in fact, marriage didn’t get attached to the word until the mid 1700s. Propose, however, dates from the 14th century with pretty clear etymology: pro (forth) + poser (put, place) = propose (to put forth).
Proposal itself didn’t get tacked on until the 1650s, but at that point it still had that more general meaning of something put forth. Like, say, a book idea sent out to publishers. 😉
But in 1749 this idea-put-forth came to mean “an offer of marriage.” And in 1764 the verb caught up with the noun, and propose became the act of offering a proposal of marriage. (Funny that it took 15 years for that, isn’t it? LOL)
So there you have it–unlike with some words that completely surprise me with their order, in this case the more general idea came about well before the specific one that has become most popular. And now off I go to get my proposal of literary genius (ahem) finished up!
by Roseanna White | Jul 18, 2011 | Word of the Week
There I was, tippity-tapping away on my story, eyes (surely) intense as I put my poor heroine into a terrible situation. Knife at her throat, blade glinting in the lantern light. But that isn’t the villainy–the villainy is in the news he imparts. News that sets her reeling, that makes her spinning world grind to a halt. When the hero rushes up and sees her empty eyes and non-responsiveness, he thinks, “Oh no, she’s in sho—” Wait a minute.
Could she be in shock in 1779? Growl, grumble, away from the story I go to the awesome
www.etymonline.com. Where I discover that no, she could not have been (in so many words). BUT–
Shock. This word entered English round about 1560 and was a military term for a violent attack. In the 1690s the word was used to mean “offend, displease.” So you could shock someone then–but it wasn’t until 1705 that it took on the noun side of that and broadened to mean “a sudden, disturbing impression upon the mind.”
So things could shock us mentally in 1690, and we’d feel the shock of it in 1705, bwhich is what I needed for my particular story–my heroine could be shocked, just not in shock. That didn’t come about until 1804. Though interestingly, an electric shock dates from almost exactly the same time as the mental shock.
Shocking!
by Roseanna White | Jul 11, 2011 | Word of the Week
‘Tis the season for cookouts and barbecues, and I’ll use that as my excuse for talking about ketchup, LOL. Really, it’s because I recently discovered its history, and it’s just too bizarre to our modern minds not to share. =)
When we Americans think of ketchup, we think of tomato ketchup. I’d really never even heard of any other kind, until reading a book about the Revolution, wherein was mentioned mushroom ketchup. The very thought of this made my nose wrinkle up–I’m not a fan of mushrooms. And for that matter, it made my mother’s nose wrinkle up, probably because she imagine it in with tomato ketchup, LOL.
But the original definition of ketchup was “a kind of pickle, made of mushrooms,” which was used solely as a sauce for fish. The word itself comes from the Chinese word for “brine of fish.” Variants also included walnuts, cucumbers, and oysters.
Let’s all thank those American seaman for introducing the tomato to it, leaving out the other stuff, and so introducing a new staple to the world!
On another note, my series on Grammar is wrapping up over at
Go Teen Writers today, so swing by for some chatting about capitalization, quotations, etc.
by Roseanna White | Jul 4, 2011 | Word of the Week
I love being an American. I’m proud of my country, I admire our roots, and I truly believe in the ideals on which we were founded. I will sing “God Bless America” from the top of my lungs! I don’t think my country’s perfect by any means–but it’s mine. I’m a patriot.
But patriot wasn’t always a good thing! It’s an old word, tracing its roots bake to the Greek “patriotes,” which means “fellow-countryman,” which of course comes from “patrios”–of one’s father, and “patris”–fatherland. In the early 1600s, patriot had gained the meaning of “one who is a loyal supporter of one’s country.” But in the mid-18th century, it became a term of derision–it had come to be applied to those whose passion led to divisiveness and disturbance of the government.
So when Americans were branded as Patriots, it sure wasn’t a compliment. But in true Yankee fashion, we took what was meant as an insult and turned it into a badge of honor. Though the word still retains negative connotations in other parts of the English-speaking world, Americans wave the flag of patriotism with truly old-fashioned delight.
Now–for a truly amazing online celebration of Independence Day, hie thee over to the
Colonial Quills! Many of us will be showing up in character to talk about what the day means to us. I’ll be there as Lark Benton from
Love Finds You in Annapolis, Maryland, so to get a sneak peek of my upcoming heroine, come on over!
by Roseanna White | Jun 27, 2011 | Word of the Week
It’s officially summer–a time to get out and do. Right? Blue skies, warm sun, green leaves, and a whole world awaiting.
My kids have been seizing the summer, and it makes me grin. Rowyn’s often found digging in the dirt, adopting worms as pets. Xoe’s latest thing is trying to catch a bunny (good luck with that, Girl-o-Mine), though when that fails she’ll settle for playing fairy princess under the weeping cherry tree-castle. Yep. Summer = adventure waiting to happen.
So let’s take a look at the word adventure.
Back in the 13th century, auenture meant “that which happens by chance.” Hmm. I had no idea that’s where the word got its start. It comes from the Old French aventure, which meant “chance, accident, occurrence, event” etc. This was all thanks to the Latin adventurus, which is the future participle of “to come to, reach.”
By the 14th century, it had gotten closer to what we think of today, absorbing an element of danger–think “taking one’s chances.” So it was a perilous undertaking, a gauntlet of one’s chances. By 1560, this had evolved to mean “an exciting incident.”
And so, as a side note, in the 15th century “adventurer” meant “one who plays at games of chance”–a gambler. And by 1660s was the more familiar “one who seeks adventures.” (Oh, and the ‘d’ got put back in somewhere in the 15th-16th centuries.)
A fun way to start your week. =) Now let’s go seek some adventure!