Expanding Language

MargueriteMing said:

OK, I tried something in a story, and it didn't work. I posted about it in the wrong place, so I'm moving my comments here and opening a thread to discuss it.

My question is this: should we as writers work to expand the general use of language? New words and usages happen all the time, but should we try to shy away from this?

My comments from the other thread, which I've removed from there:
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Actually, using nouns as verbs is a rather common way by which our language is extended. It's been going on for over a thousand years. It is a natural process. There is actually an academic field that studies this, it is called Linguistics. Did you know that statistically the vocabulary of a language changes about 17% every 1000 years? I believe that mass communication has sped this up, although I haven't seen a research paper on this topic. Maybe I'll go look one up.

General definition:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drift_(linguistics)
Changes in language reflecting gradual equalization of the sexes:
https://mailman.rice.edu/pipermail/funknet/1995-December/000061.html
Very erudite paper on language and it's effects:
http://www.bartleby.com/186/

This guy really understands how language and thought go hand in hand:


To sum his position up: you need language to really think about things, because we think symbolically, not in imagery. Even when we believe we are thinking in images, we really aren't, the language we have learned underlies and channels our thought at an unconscious level.

There are some interesting implications of this, if you think about it. It is very difficult to think about and discuss things for which we haven't assigned a common vocabulary. Also, as our language changes, the way we think about things changes too. This carries the implication that if we choose how we modify our language we can consciously shape the way we think. Anyway, enough of digression, back to nouns as verbs.

Consider a few examples, which are probably fairly old:
to soap: to apply soap to an object. No doubt created from the noun soap.
to flower: the opening of flowers on a plant. also used to indicate grown in a person, as we apply it today.
to saw, to cover, to drain, to rain, to snow, to barrel, to water, to fire.
All of these are verbs identical to an associated noun. Which came first in each case I don't know, but we tend to name things before we name actions.

A newer example (last 50 years):
to rock: as in rock around the clock, rock the house, rock on.

My point is language changes. People change language through the way they use it. This can be bad when it leads to confusion and misunderstanding "He's bad, uh huh!" It can be good, when it extends the language to represent something for which we didn't have an adequate word before.
Love your language, become a virtuoso in its use. Some make hamburger of words, others make culinary delights. Which is of more benefit to a writer? My opinion as a writer: the stronger our language the better tool it is for our purposes, so it is in our own best interests to use it well.

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The thing you need to understand about this, however, is that in writing narrative, the method you mentioned above is not all that acceptable. The best way to use your vocabulary, IMO, is to write using standard language in your narratives, and save the slang (i.e. Rock on; Rock the house; etc.) for dialogue. If you use symbolism in your dialogue/monologue, then this is fairly understandable. However, using such symbolism in narrative is, so far as I've read in published works, not generally accepted.

What I'm saying is, just because a word or phrase is acceptable to you as the writer, this does not mean that a publisher or a reader will also find it acceptable. Being clear, without using symbolism, is IMO key to writing good narrative.


BTW, this is a cool thread. I think it fits here very nicely.

whoa. I'm not sure what's going on, but that reaction seems a bit harsh.

I think this is one of those situations that calls for "it depends." It depends on your narrative, what you want to accomplish as a writer, your audience, etc. If writers stayed within the rules of conventional language, then we wouldn't have experimental fiction. I'm all for pushing boundaries. It just depends on what you're writing. Quirky new language can't save a bad story, imo.

One thing I remember from way, way back when I got my indifferent education in English is that living languages change. That's why it's easier to learn Latin than, say, Spanish. All the irregular verbs, all the idioms, all the oddities are locked in place, analyzed, and unchangeable in a dead language.

When people are still speaking and writing it, the living language slowly changes. We happen to have lived through a very rapid change with a great many words added as computer and other technology blossomed. Setting aside trademark issues, don't we use the proper nouns Google, Xerox, and Rollerblade as common verbs, despite the trademark owners' objections? You bet we do--I've got the Polaroids to prove it.

How does this apply specifically to erotica? Hm, how far can I go here these days? Consider the common euphemism dick for penis. I'm not sure when it became a verb, but I can write that the kids outside the MiniMart are just dicking around, or that you better not be dicking me, buddy. Offhand, I can't think of another euphemism for the same physical part that's made the transition, or a parallel female part, either. In the near future I expect to be able to write that James dicked Susan.

Maryn, just sayin' is all

MargueriteMing said:

Writing is a creative art. Like composing, painting, architecture, even software design, we produce our creations directly out of the virtual world of our minds. Of course we need some sort of physical medium to realize it, but basically we create something where before there was nothing.

Writing however is different from these other arts I have mentioned, in that our medium is language, which is the fundamental tool for thought and understanding. All the other arts are taught, criticized, or improved upon through the use of our own medium.

Each art is responsible for improving the tools of their field. You wouldn't expect a music composer to decide what makes a better brush, canvas, or painting technique, would you? Therefore it is up to writers to improve our medium -- language. All other fields expect this of us, demand it of us, for by improving language we improve thought itself, as symbolic thought is dependent on language, constrained by it.

Therefore as writers we should not only feel free to be innovative in our use of language, we should revel in it ourselves and celebrate it in others. Beyond that it is our duty.

Of course this doesn't give us carte blanche to indulge in some form of linguistic chaos. But the known world won't be shivered to shards if we stamp a new word, the vault of the heavens won't tumble to crumbles from an infinitive split, and surely your eyes will recover from my paltry prose.

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I understand what you're saying now, Marguerite. I did not think of the language in that manner; however, what you and Maryn both have said, does make a lot of sense.

One of the reasons I think I never thought of the language in this manner, is that I do not have the benefit of a college education. All the grammar I know, comes from K-12. Much of what I was taught back then, I had to un-learn, as some might say. This is just another thing I suppose I am going to have to un-learn.

I never saw any change in the language as very good; that's just a feeling within me that maybe, as a writer, I should not have.

But some new words just, in my opinion, don't fit in narrative. If a word doesn't flow in my mind, kind of like poetry is supposed to, I have a hard time getting past the said word. That's why changing so much of what I have used as a standard is difficult for me. It's not impossible, but difficult nevertheless.

Although I do not agree that we should use colloquialisms (sp?) in narrative, I can see where many would appreciate the value of slightly changing the language. Like others have pointed out, the language is a living, changing organism. So I suppose that I, as a writer and lover of that language, though I might not change how I personally use it, should at least appreciate the fact that some people use the language differently than I do.

Still, if I find that a work is less-than in my own mind, then I do not believe I should have any qualms with criticizing it. If I as a reader am to be a good reviewer of a piece, I must be honest about how I feel it does or does not work.


Anyway, I'm sorry about the rambling. But I just want you know I understand where you're coming from now, and though I do not necessarily agree with it, I do at least appreciate your opinion.

I also don't feel much desire to be innovative in language use--dispite having as much education as I could carry away, well, actually I never left the university. I am just of the 'if you are doing it right the language melts away' school. I know for a fact that I don't acheive my goal, but it is to be very utilitarian with words. Funny how that never seems to happen. Maybe my unconscious mind is more artistic than I think.

Hi Marguerite! Interesting thread.

You didn't say where you got that quote in your original post. It is very much in line with what as known as the Whorfian hypothesis. If you're interested in this type of thing, you might enjoy reading a book called "The Language Instinct" by Steven Pinker. As he points out, most linguists and cognitive psychologists would agree that language can have some impact on thought, but would deny that there is a strong, deterministic link as described in the quote.

For myself, I think language aids in certain types of thought (which may be highly valued in our society) because language is great memory aid. It can help you to keep several elements in mind -- especially abstract ones -- if you can put names to them. Long strings of logical deductions, for example, might benefit from language-based thinking. But I'm not sure you can generalize from that and say all forms of thought would receive the same benefit. It seems like there is even thought that cannot be fully expressed in language. An example from that Pinker book, if I remember correctly, goes something like: You know what chocolate tastes like. You can imagine yourself eating some right now. (Good idea, in fact...) Could you accurately describe that flavor to someone who had never tasted it? To such a degree they could differentiate between that and butterscotch on the first go? Well, I think the book used a smell-based example, but I so much prefer to think in terms of chocolate whenever possible. But I think it is a good point. I can imagine a famous composer who sits immersed in thought for hours composing what will later be recognized as a masterpiece. But I don't imagine him using many words (not even deeply internalized subconscious words) when he does that. Or imagine a great chef is thinking about how to cook the venison he bought at the market -- what combination of spices would enhance the flavor, yet subdue the gaminess? You could probably describe his process using words (like I just did), but I don't imagine those words are central to the thought process itself. You might use a few words now and then during the thought process ("No, no, that's not right.") but then again you might not. If all thought were really linguistic in nature, you wouldn't ever hear people saying, "I don't know how to put it into words, but..."

Well, I suppose I could go on about language and thought, but I don't want to come off like a raving lunatic. (What was that? "Too late," you say? D'oh!) In summary, I can see how there's a connection, but that specific quote you gave seems to carry it to an extreme.

I agree with you that languages are always in a state of change, and that this is not inherently bad or inherently good. Fashion is also always in a state of change, but no one insists that this is either fashion deterioration or fashion improvement!

With respect to writing, I think coining new words can be done to good effect or bad. If you coin a word that the reader will understand, and which fills a purpose, I think that could be a powerful tool. I imagine that the reader would just think "Ooh, great way of putting it!" and not really even notice that it was a new word. What I would avoid in writing is (a) coining a new word whose meaning is not immediately obvious, and (b) coining a new word where an existing one would work just as well (or better). For example, nowadays you can see the verb "orientate" all over the place. If you use that in writing, you'll probably rub a lot of readers the wrong way. It doesn't mean anything different from "orient," and could lead someone to suppose that the writer has a limited vocabulary (i.e., like you knew "orientation" but not "orient").

Science fiction writers face some of these questions, too. There's an adage in science fiction writing. I wish I could remember it exactly, and who said it. It pertains to using invented words to describe things from an alien culture. It goes something like, "If it hops like a rabbit and has long ears like a rabbit, don't call it a merp!" I think Holly Lisle's (free downloadable) book about writing fantasy and sci fi has a similar example. If I recall correctly, she says that if your character from an imagined culture eats bread, you should just call it "bread." If, on the other hand, it has some special property that makes it significantly different from regular earth bread (such as being the source from which magic flows), you can give it a different name.

Okay, I guess I've wandered pretty far afield from your original post. I don't know if you find any of this relevant to what you were getting at. I really get going when the topic is language. Sorry if I went overboard!

Are you defining thought as consisting only of those mental activities that rely on language?

For example, is a child incapable of thinking before he/she acquires language? Some children, such as the deeply autistic, never acquire language (neither production nor comprehension). Do they never achieve thought? One person who would argue this point with you quite vehemently is Temple Grandin: Ph.D., published author, and person with autism. She quite eloquently describes in her writing how even her most abstract thought processes are visual, not linguistic. She claims that this trait is true in general for autistic people, including some very brilliant ones.

You define language thus:

A language could be entirely internal, a language of impressions, an impression that means "smoothness" for example. Once you start breaking things down into discreet concepts you have a language.

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The usual formal definition of language requires that it be a system for communication. If you remove that element and allow strictly internal "languages," I think the idea that thought requires language becomes circular. It seems to me that it reduces down to saying that "thought requires the existence of abstract mental objects" or "thought requires the ability to form categories." I think an autistic child who has never learned a language could very well have abstract mental objects or be able to form categories. In fact, chimpanzees can form categories (i.e., sort things). So I would be happy saying that both have thought, but that neither has language.

The version of the Whorf hypothesis (also known as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis) that is most widely held is that once you have learned a language, it affects your thought process. A strong version that is often discussed but that practically no one holds (probably not even Whorf) is that the linguistic system you acquire in childhood limits the types of thought you can have. For example: if your language has no words for time, you cannot conceive of the concept, or your ability to conceive of it is curtailed.

I would agree that language is a useful tool for some types of reasoning, and that if you have learned a language it can impact your thought processes. You may not be able to "turn off" language once you've acquired it. Sapir's ideas about evolution of language and thought also seem correct -- development of high intelligence and development of language are probably tightly intertwined and mutually reinforcing. But I don't see how the extreme version -- that thought is inherently impossible without language -- can be so, barring unusually tight standards for what counts as thought or unusually loose standards for what counts as language. When I'm in a department store trying to determine if a given red sweater will look good on my mother, I'm going to try to remember her face in extreme detail, and imagine the sweater next to it, and try to use my (limited) aesthetic intuitions to see if that is a harmonious combination. I would qualify that as "thinking" but I don't think it involves unspoken use of words. I'm willing to bet there are non-lingual autistic kids out there who can pick out nice sweaters for their mothers quite well.

But, you know, just to be on the safe side... This is a very invigorating and interesting conversation, and I hope you are deriving as much enjoyment from this exchange as I am. I am really tickled to have stumbled on your thread in an *erotica* forum. I really wish I could tell someone in my "real" life that I ran into someone at "Writing Erotica" was was reading Sapir -- for fun! You are a rare and exquisite individual.

This is too cool.

I see what you're saying, but I still don't think "language" is the correct term.

MargueriteMing said:

A language is a set of tuples, where each tuple is a meaning and it's representation.

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Language is a set of tuples, but a very specific type. Any communication system is a set of tuples. The way bees dance to indicate location and quality of a food source is a communication system. The call system used by vervet monkeys is a communication system. Both of those also employ tuples (a.k.a. signs, a.k.a. pairings of signifier and signified). By presenting the signifier, the signified ("meaning") is transferred between individuals. However, neither communication system counts as language.

One characteristic of language is that the tuples used are symbolic. That is, the relationship between the signifier and the signified is arbitrary. The meaning that is paired with a given representation must be learned. It has been said, therefore, that language is a system of conventionalized signs.

When you wrote about having an internal language, you said, for example, that you could have an internal impression of "smoothness." If there is no real-world signifier that goes with that, you don't have a sign. You have an abstract mental object ("smoothness"), a category label. You have a meaning, but no signifier to go with it.

That's what I was getting at before. If you're going to call that language, then the term "language" boils down to "ability to form abstract mental categories." And in that case, the idea that language is fundamental to thought seems tautological.

Further, you would have to say that the average chimpanzee (who possesses abstract mental categories like "edible" and "fun to play with") possesses language. In fact, multiple researchers have found that although chimpanzees have a quite limited ability to learn human-like grammatical systems, they readily grasp the idea of signifier-signified tuples. If that is not language (and most specialists feel it is not), but having an internal concept of "smoothness" is language, then you are not talking about language but about the mental capacity to abstract and categorize.

As an example: consider the sad case of a language who has only one surviving speaker. That person cannot use the language for communication with another person, but that person does grasp the fundamental concept of language: that by presenting another speaker of that same language with a real-world thing (either a specific sound wave, or a specific written image), she/he can cause that other person to think of a specific concept. Now let's think of a clever chimpanzee. This chimpanzee has abstract mental categories for "smoothness," "will float on water," "edible," "will make you throw up if you eat it," "insects that sting," "insects that don't sting and are tasty," "other chimpanzees who like me," etc. Well, that wouldn't so much be a clever chimpanzee as a pretty average chimpanzee. That chimpanzee would have a lot of internal mental categories, but not one chimpanzee has ever in the history of time thought up the idea of pairing one of those meanings to an external signifier for purposes of communication. The idea that you can evoke in someone else's mind the idea of an thing when that thing is not present and only its conventionalized signifier is, that's a completely different thing from just having a set of abstract categories in your own mind that help you to organize your experiences with the universe.

So, if this is the type of thing you do in your spare time just for fun, I'm dying to read your fiction. Have you anything published?

Wow! I like the premise. And using an anal syringe!! LOL!

I'm looking forward to reading the revised version. And if you want my opinion, you should keep "ghosted." I found it evocative. That's the type of coinage that I had in mind as OK in an earlier posting: immediately clear what you intend it to mean, and not completely synonymous with an existing word. If your target market is "hip and edgy" I think they'd like it. If they aren't... the editor might ask you to change that word. No biggie.