Litters of Letters

by Jill Amadio

Were there ten fewer consonants and only three vowels in the English alphabet, here’s how two of the Bard’s indelible lines would have been written:

“Fr n mr th het f th sn…”  

“Th ly’s th  thg…”

Much of our English is derived from other languages, including Latin, French, Greek,  Italian, German and the aliens for all we know. In fact, our precious alphabet initially descended from the Egyptian Pro-Sinaitic alphabet around 1,800 B.C. The Phoenicians took it up, followed by the Greeks, then the Romans, who brought it to the British Isles during their disgraceful occupation, only to be shunted aside by the bloodthirsty Anglo-Saxons.  By the 13th century, we are told, the “modern English alphabet had emerged from the Old English alphabet.”

Earlier, the Chinese, other Asians, and Russians had invented their own enigmatic images to represent words, adding to our confusion. The strokes used to appear to bear no relation to letters as we know them, but then the vice-versa is also true.

Some writers are rather taken by the French influence whereby we tend to add acute and grave accents over certain letters, and also by the German umlaut of two tiny dots placed over specific vowels.

My keyboard doesn’t provide any of these extra  elegant little marks although to the left of my number 1 in the top row there is a funny little squiggle that resembles a drunken letter N: ~. I am sure it has great significance but the meaning escapes me sand I have never felt compelled to use it, even as an April Fool’s Day joke.

So, by the 13th century the Normans generously presented the Brits with their very own alphabet, and many of the world’s most remarkable English writers went full-tilt into turning out their extraordinary literature.

In my Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, a 1,000-page tome, there is only a single reference to the alphabet. It is from Charles Dickens’  The Pickwick Papers. He had one of his characters, Samievel, being advised that although “there were many things you don’t understand now, but…as the charity boy said when he got to the end of the alphabet, it’s a matter of taste.“

I think Dickens was indicating that knowing the alphabet was a choice but something a poor person may not have the opportunity to learn, if, indeed, he could even read English.

That should be the end of this saga but I became fascinated with my research. It turns out that we have been cheated. There were originally 29 letters in the English alphabet although three other letters were left out entirely: J, U, and W. I also  read that NATO  has its own phonetic alphabet to help members pronounce  English words during their lifelong luxury residence in America.

What’s so interesting now is how our words have come to mean something else entirely, such as “swatting,” “hacking,” and many others.

I wonder how these words translate into other languages, and if the message changes with the wind. Their double meanings will undoubtedly show up in dictionaries although the editors might want to wait a couple of years in case an even different and additional meaning pops up.

At least we still have our five vowels and 21 consonants with which to create characters, settings, plots, and strategies.

“YOU SAY POTATOE…”

by Jill Amadio

As a Brit I put up with a lot of ribbing in America. Some friends take me to task for pronunciation. Well, I can’t help it if I have a very slight West Country accent as I am from Cornwall. As a writer, though, the ribbing can give me indigestion.

The main problem is spelling. I am warned by colleagues that editors at U.S. publishing houses come down hard if you keep inserting a “u” into words like behaviour,  colour, and honour, or substitute a ”z’ for an “s”. Other minefields include using “ae” rather than “e,” as in “aeon” and “eon”.  Maybe it’s a matter of simplicity. Americans pare as many ells and u’s as possible while Brits love double ells, such as “levelling” versus “leveling.”

My books are published here first but habits die hard and I usually claim that Brits use the correct spellings. They only got chopped when they arrived in America where unnecessary (to whom?) letters are summarily killed off. Flautists are called flutists, and gaol is jail. Obviously what it comes down to is pronunciation. Americans spell words as they are spoken although it escapes me why tyre is spelled tire.

It’s a huge temptation to some authors who have leapt across the pond to use British spelling, perhaps as a sly signal to agents and publishers they are querying that the writer is a Brit – a sort of literary snobbism one occasionally encounters at conferences.

Then there’s the grammar. Collective nouns in particular give me pause. Is a group, say a government, singular or plural?  I have a page from the Associated Press Stylebook permanently stuck to my printer to remind me which to use.

Figuring out past particles is always fun. For instance, Brits say “pleaded” Yanks say “pled”. Oh, and the very, very worst word I hate to see changed is “hanged”. To my mind it should refer only to someone at the loop end of a rope, giving the action a far heftier meaning than the word “hung” as used here. People are not paintings.

Punctuation. I don’t worry about it although when I send in my column to the UK magazine I write for I make sure I place the comma and full stop after the quotes, not before.  What else? “Have” and “take” always flummox me. Am I going to take a bath? Or, am I going to have a bath? I read somewhere that this is an example of a delexical verb, which I’m not even going to touch.

While writing my first mystery my beta readers caught another mistake. I wrote, “He drove her to hospital.” Wrong. I was told there should be a “the” in front of “hospital.”  I’m sure there’s some kind of diabolical rule about this but I think it’s fine to give an in-house editor something to mark up to justify his/her salary.  As for tenses, the past participle in the U.S. for “got” is “gotten,” an ugly word that makes me shudder enough to want to write a thriller entitled “The Dangling Participle and the Dark, Dark Pluperfect”.

While writing the first in my crime series based in Newport Beach, California, whose amateur sleuth is a disgraced Cornishwoman exiled by the palace for discovering a scandal (what, again?), I had to learn the police rankings and figure out who was a sheriff and who was a police officer. Having worked with a reporter at the good old rag, the Sunday Dispatch, I decided to have my sleuth simplify her confusion (and mine) and re-affirm her “foreignness” by using British titles. When caught speeding she addresses a California Highway Patrol (CHiP) officer as “Chief Superintendent,” and calls the Chief of Police, “ Constable.”  I am, however, very pleased that sheriffs and policemen can be lumped into a group collectively referred to as “cops”.

When I mention a British pastime such as a pasty-throwing contest, blank stares are common. I talked about nighthawking the other day and no one had a clue as to its meaning. I’m giving the nasty habit to a character in my WIP although I know the explanation could be tedious unless you’re a nighthawker yourself. Both of these words are giving my Spellcheck nightmares.

Even the four seasons can be a challenge. Seeking representation for my first mystery I scoured the agent lists and was rejected by 65 of them. I knew small presses can be approached directly and I found one with whose name I fell totally in love: Mainly Murder Press. However, the website declared, NO SUBMISSIONS UNTIL LATE SPRING!

Ha. I immediately sent in my query along with a note: “Dear MMP, I live in Southern California and although it is only January according to the calendar, and snowing where you are, it is already late spring here. You should see the roses!”

I received an email back within three hours, asking me to send chapters. Which I did. Obviously the publisher was not off in Tahiti but still on the East Coast. Then came a request for the manuscript. By the end of a week I had signed a contract for three books. MMP publishes only 12-14 books a year, but who could resist the name? Sadly, MMP went belly-up before I could finish my third mystery.

So my advice is to go ahead and break the rules, lay it on thick, and change the climate. Worked for me.