Words Writers Mix Up
Confusion grows over word usage.
I used to think the growing list of words writers mix up meant they were having a homophone issue—there/their/they’re, affect/effect, complimentary/complementary and that sort of thing. When terms sound alike, it’s easy to forget which meaning is spelled which way. Just remember that something may pique your interest, but you’re not much fazed by it.
These confused words are called malaprops or malapropisms and there was a time when we could use them as puns, but today I’m afraid that too few people would get it. Check out this joke with a pun in written form. How many people would get it?
The bride walked down the isle. Must have been a destination wedding.
More Malapropisms
As confusion grew, I began to see mix-ups with words that are pronounced only slightly differently from each other—lose/loose and precede/proceed, for example. Another commonly confused category comprises words with similar meanings, such as allude/refer.
But in recent years, the malaprops have expanded into full phrases made of up words that, in meaning if not sound, have nothing to do with each other. If you find yourself saying, “For all intensive purposes,” today’s column is for you. This column is for you as well if you laugh when people say that.
I’m not going to go through the sound-alikes, look-alikes or close-meanings. It’s a very long list available on various websites; I found a comprehensive account published by Touro University. Instead of repeating all of that, I’ll interrupt your memoir writing by giving you a few laughs and review some malapropisms that have created a whole new category of language-nerd comedy.
Let’s Laugh at Least
About as common as “for all intensive purposes,” which by the way should be for all intents and purposes, is “doggy dog world.” We know that can’t be correct, because that would be a cute world instead of the competitive world, or dog-eat-dog world, that is our reality.
You flesh out an idea when you want to explore it. I suppose you can “flush out an idea,” but that would indicate the idea’s quick destruction. I probably don’t have to tell you writers that you can take me for granted, but you cannot “take me for granite.” These are called eggcorns, a specific term for the phenomenon of mishearing a word or phrase and repeating the nonsensical replacement, launching a comical new meaning that spreads like a virus.
I give a little leeway to “deep-seated” as the eggcorn of deep-seeded. For one thing, they sound identical in the way most people would pronounce them. And for another, I can understand rationalizing that a deep-seated bias is a bias that goes a long way down, which is close enough to the intended meaning. Plus we don’t used the word “seeded” very often in ordinary conversation.
A similar pair is “chomping at the bit” vs. champing at the bit to indicate being eager to get going on something. Not only do they sound nearly alike, but we no longer use that meaning of the verb “champ” at all. So the original meaning of “champing”—that a horse is biting at the bit—is no more appropriate than saying the horse is chewing, or “chomping” at the bit. Still, when you’re writing, use the one that is generally considered correct, which is champing.
On the other hand, while it’s easy to understand how nip it in the bud became “nip it in the butt,” that doesn’t mean the second phrase makes any sense. You might nip something in the butt—ew—but that would have nothing to do with the nip-it-in-the-bud intended meaning of stopping something before it has a chance to cause much damage.
I’ve had this does-it-make-sense discussion with my grown children, who tried to convince me that a diamond in the rough is more or less synonymous with a needle in a haystack. No. When you perceive a bit of shining genius in an inexperienced person, the person is a diamond in the rough and just needs mentoring or an opportunity. When you find a shining genius in a group of ordinary people, you’ve found a needle in a haystack. You know this is correct because the phrases don’t make sense when you use one to mean the other.
So when you write what you consider a common saying, think about the meaning. Why make even a small error—“tongue and cheek”—when you can avoid it by realizing that makes no sense? Then you’ll look it up and find tongue in cheek, put your own tongue in your cheek, look in the mirror and see that it gives you a look of kidding someone, which is what you’re doing when you say something in a tongue-in-cheek manner.
You curl up in a fetal position, not a “feeble position.” You’re telling a “bald-faced lie”? Think about that. What exactly is a bald face? It’s a bold-faced lie. If you believe someone has an “alterior” motive, that is not a word at all. You mean an ulterior motive. If you believe that’s a “mute point,” think again, because it’s a moot point. And if you call it a “moo point,” you’ve been talking to Joey Tribbiani in a funny segment on Friends.
Misheard Song Lyrics
A subgroup of eggcorn is mondegreen, referring to a misheard song lyric. This term was coined in the 1950s by writer Sylvia Wright, who confessed that as a child she’d repeated a folksong lyric, They had slain the Earl of Moray and laid him on the green, as “They had slain the Earl of Moray and Lady Mondegreen.”
My husband and I were married a year or two when I realized that he sang along with Neil Diamond’s Forever in Blue Jeans as “Reverend Blue Jeans.” Luckily I had a sense of humor back then! And when the internet came along with all of its available trivia, I discovered that my husband wasn’t alone—this was among the most commonly misheard lyrics. But my favorite mondegreen is a misheard lyric from Purple Haze. Jimi Hendrix wrote the line as Excuse me while I kiss the sky, so I’ll use the eggcorn as my sign-off today: “Excuse me while I kiss this guy.”
(AI created the generation-gap image. I apologize to young people.)