Tag: Slang

“She is going, you know, to…” 

by Jill Amadio

“He fell down, you know, on that.. blah, blah blah…”

Bombarded with the words “you know” in person, on Zoom, on TV, and on the radio, I have this hollow feeling that if I do not know what I am supposed to know when someone says the phrase, what am I missing? How do we “get the drift” of what the speaker means, if we are told we already know it? What is the significance of their words if taken literally? I already know what I am being told?

In other words, how am I to know what the person talking means when it is assumed I know precisely what they mean? By slipping in those two words, often twice in a short sentence and more frequently in long ones, I am left feeling like an idiot because, like many writers, I take words not only seriously but by their true intent.

I am tempted to tell the next person who uses it out of context that, No, I do not know, or I shall ask them why they think I know what they assume I know. I shall also ask them what their intention is in telling me something they think I already know. If I already know it, why waste their time in re-telling it?

What is this innocuous but irritating manner of speaking doing to our psyche? Will our personalities change, or our memories be challenged? Will what we already need be thrown out with the bathwater? A dilemma indeed.

I have yet to read “you-know” used in any newly-published books, thank goodness, but there’s always tomorrow for the opportunity to chance upon this ultimate word-mystery.

I have not yet thrown my buttered scone at the television set as I assume, you know, that the pundit cannot hear me, but, you know, what do I know? With all this high-tech stuff circling the globe, maybe I am wrong, you know. Could I, you know, be behind the times?

Perhaps “you-know” is used to give the speaker a moment to collect their thoughts, to come up with a different statement they intended, or to end a sentence with a lilt of the voice to indicate a question.

There are, of course, plenty of ways to ask  the you-know question, such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, that he murdered her?” This dialogue sits so much more easily upon a writer’s shoulder, placing the you-know bit within its proper grammatical intention (I think).

Then there’s my gracious understanding of why people use it: to give themselves a break to think up their next statement, to find their place on the teleprompter, to allow them to sound “with-it.”

Intonation, when using “you-know,” is also important, I have observed. There is rarely a tonal upswing indicating it is a question.

If “you-know” is spoken to a young child, do we expect a cogent answer? Children tend to take what we say as dogma. We do not want to saddle kids with untruths.

Can we pronounce “you-know” as y’all know, or y’know? Perhaps this slide into dialect can remove some of its insidious, unnecessary sentiment. Or maybe to give it an inflection it does not deserve.  Should we replace “you-know” with a different phrase? I’ve heard people slip in a “my dear” and “indeed, but “you-know” rules the roost – at present.

I have come to regard “you-know” as a target and have to constrain myself from counting how many times it is spoken and in what context. Frankly, I cannot think of any unless “you-know” is posed in a readable sentence such as, “Do you know that…” or “You do know, of course, he is…”

When used in this context, it is obvious that an answer is required, whereas thrown in higglety-pigglety, the phrase has no meaning, but at least it does not put the listener on the spot. However, who knows? I sure don’t.

Words!

by Linda O. Johnston

Some of my fellow Writers in Residence inspired me to write this post by mentioning, in past weeks, their enjoyment of, and working with, words–most especially Miko Johnston, who wrote “Wordplay,” and Jill Amadio, who wrote “You Say Potatoe…” I always enjoy our posts here, but those two really jostled a lot in my mind.

Why? I love words! I always have, from the time I was a very young kid, and still do. Reading, spelling, grammar in grade school? Wonderful!

Miko described her fascination with words and their origins and imagery and sounds and more. Jill focused somewhat on the differences between the U.S. and U.K. versions of the same words and their spelling and uses in grammar.

And me, here? Well, let’s just say I do all I can with words in different schemes and environments. Yes, I write. I’ve always written, since I was a child, but I do a lot more now. My undergraduate college degree was in journalism, and I worked in advertising and public relations before becoming an attorney–and a published novelist. They all involved words!

Besides writing these days, I also do a lot with word puzzles, especially crosswords, cryptograms and acrostics. It keeps me fresh with the words I use as well as learning how others can play games with them, literally. Yes, I sometimes check the answers if I don’t otherwise figure them out, since it’s a good method to learn not only words but different and sometimes strange usages–although I’d much rather figure them out myself.

I find it interesting that I sometimes also have to figure out what recent slang and other words mean, even though many used to come to me just by hearing them and their usage. For example, I had to look up what the current usage of “woke” means. Yes, I had to become woke in its usage!

My own vocabulary was helped over the years by the fact I used to be fairly literate in the French language after studying it for over ten years as a kid. I rarely use it now, though I can often read French, but I don’t always understand when people speak it in my presence unless…they…speak…slowly. Yes, lack of usage has slowed me down, although I can always come up with a sentence in French, probably an elementary one. And if I see French words on a page, I can often translate them.

Plus, over the years I’ve learned some Spanish words, too. And after spending a significant amount of time in Germany years ago, I can sometimes recognize German words as well.

So… Yes, words and I are good friends. Buddies, chums, mates and more. Amies et amigos und Freunden. Guess I’ll keep talking and reading and listening and solving puzzles…and hope to learn even more words.

Lewk and Other Odd, Ugly New Words

by Jill Amadio

Would you write this in your next mystery: “He awoke woke as usual, wondering if he might be roofied, kettled or lewked today. Then, as he threw back the bedcovers, he remembered it was his turn to rizz.”

How many readers and writers can figure out the meaning of these phrases? I wonder also how these new words translate into French, Italian, or the Baltic languages. Did you know that lollipop is a slang word for money in Britain, Australia, and New Zealand although the word lolly has been in use as referring to money in the UK for a long time.

Fortunately, I have yet to read a modern mystery that includes any of the above, although a recent read did include the work “hacked” to mean a fairly decent way to dispose of a body rather than hacking into someone’s computer (although it is sometimes tempting to want to snatch up a machete and aim it at my screen).

Gaslighting is common these days but to me the word “deceve” has a far more evil connotation due to its hard “e.” How about being roofied? No, not a new roof on one’s house but a slang word for the drug Rohypnol which, in itself sounds rather boring compared to its new version. I must confess I am rather partial to the word “dox” as it sounds medieval but I don’t write historicals so I would have to use it for its modern meaning, which is cyber-bullying, maliciously publicizing private, personal information about someone, and usually posting it online via social media.

Dox is similar to pox so maybe that is the connection. Medieval slang, or descriptive words, were and are scattered throughout historical novels and plays, especially by Shakespeare who wrote in The Tempest: “a pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!” Yeah! That told ‘em. The bard also used the word “cotton” to refer to a lower-ranking peasant. One wonders if peasants were considered lewk back then because of their wearing of cotton garments that distinguished them instead of costly fabrics.

Acronyms are showing up, too, and turning into daily use as words in their own right. For examples, “lewk.” The letters were all at one time written in upper case and stand for Loitering Electronic Warfare Killer. Now, the first and last words, loitering and killer are understandable and fitting for mystery writers. However, the four uppercase letters together refer to, perhaps, a war machine waiting for the signal to attack, such as an army tank.  In lower case, the letters form a word meaning a person’s individual fashion style by which he/she/them/their is instantly recognizable. I’d venture a guess that Sherlock Holmes and his deerstalker hat was the first of his generation to be lewk.

Here are a few of my own suggestions for slang in a murder mystery:

Tompt = a double-bladed dental tool for extracting teeth

Willabot = bird seed for large sparrows

Seso = blood-stained blue underwear

Atikul = a cell phone smashed in four places, a vital clue

Culik = a pearl-handled pistol

Daawtul = a female murder victim

Obviously, not a single one of the above, however specific, makes any sense but does lewk or dox? 

Are we free to invent new words with the hope that readers can easily gauge the writer’s intent?  That would be like writing a mystery within a mystery, and require a glossary like a list of characters at the front of a book as a few of the Golden Era mystery writers, like Agatha Christie, sometimes added.

What’s your opinion of the new additions to our language? Should they taught in writing workshops?

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Jill Amadio is a mystery writer, novelist, journalist, and ghostwriter.  Her standalone thriller, “In Terror’s Deadly Clasp,” is based on a true 9/11 story. Her award-winning mystery series features an amateur sleuth from Cornwall, UK, Amadio’s former residence before relocating to California and Connecticut.