And the word of the day is . . .

Seeking vocabulary lost in the drawers of my mind

I am trying to finish a book.

I have been trying to write this book for almost two years.

I have read what I have written so far (about 46,000 words) over and over and over again, and I am not tasting it. Feeling it. Hearing it.

Nor loving it.

There is a colossal problem, which has to do with adequately representing a main character who is not only male, but also American, Black and has the occasional potential stereotype attached to him. He is a very tall and rather large athlete. He is partly based on a real human being. And yes, all of this is important to the plot. Very.

But I have to get him right. I would prefer perfect. So while wrestling with this lovely man’s voice, I have felt a crushing loss of self-esteem. This has resulted in a withdrawal, in the main, from marketing my other novels. (If you’re an author, I expect you’ll understand.) Which brings me to my other problem.

Words.

I am sick of them all. Well, not all of them. All the ones I’ve used in my book, to be specific.

In an effort to distract myself from these miseries, I’ve been posting Words of the Day on social media — partly so that I don’t entirely disappear from sight, but also to pry some of the words I once knew and used from the recesses of my brain.

For example: RISIBLE.

To my ears, it actually sounds like its meaning. I love that.

Once that was posted, I was on a roll for a while with words that were really fun to say and spell.

For example: COCCYX.

While I’m on the subject of spelling, I am proud to note that I once won a charity spelling bee by rolling out this word correctly. Twice.

In other news, I have added coccyx to my novel. That kind of made my day . . . so you see the dire straits I’m in, yes?

This led me down the dictionary to other words with double Cs.

Succinct, for instance. Which this post is not.

Another word I had not used in a while: INSCRUTABLE.

That one was my husband’s fault. Or inspiration. However you want to look at it.

We were folding laundry one morning, and I asked him if the two socks I was holding actually went together.

Hubs: Yes. See the logos?

Me: No. They’re all fuzzy.

Hubs: My socks are inscrutable. (Sigh.)

Yup, I thought, that’s a good word for his socks. Really, you should see his pile o’ socks — a truly mysterious collection of various shades and ever-so-slightly different lengths.

Perhaps my favourite of them all thus far is: JALOPY.

Go ahead, say it out loud a few times. Quickly, if possible. Isn’t that FUN?

I posted this beautiful vehicle, the inspiration behind my fifth book, along with the word on, ahem, X Formerly Known As Twitter. Most folk were quite sure this beast is well past its jalopy period.

Really? PREPOSTEROUS!

I leave you with a word that is, to my ears and eyes, far more intriguing than simply blue or purple: INDIGO.

Which may remind one of Joni Mitchell’s famous album, Turbulent Indigo, the title tune of which was about a very famous and talented tortured artist, so that fits, right? Well, the tortured part, maybe.

(Have I mentioned recently that the Great Lady of Music grew up in Saskatoon? My home and native town? And that I attended the same high school? Not at the same time?)

Anyway. Indigo. It describes my writing mood quite succcintly at the moment, every time I plant my coccyx on the chair.

If you have a word that needs to be on my list, please do pass it along. The way things are going, I will likely be seeking words of the day for quite some time.