Choose Your Words Wisely

I have some thoughts on word choice I would like to share with y’all.  (I like to announce things, maybe you have noticed?)  Yesterday while riding in the crew van from location to the studio for lunch* the teamster had the Daily News or the Post, whichever one does the stupid headlines, opened to the story about the South Brooklyn rapist.  The article began by discussing a young lady who had been “brutally groped.”**  I am both appalled and amused by such a strange juxtaposition of words.  I am appalled because a young woman was groped; I am appalled and amused that it was brutal.  How is one “brutally” groped?  Can someone please explain this to me?  I understand the word “grope” to imply roughness and brutality anyway.   

Specificity in communication and writing has always been very important to me, especially in terms of word choice.  I love words, their variant meanings, and the nuances that a carefully chosen word can evoke in my mind.  I hope that when others read worlds within the words open up to them in the same way.  Evocative phrasing feels like finding treasure in a way.   Conversely, poor word choice is anathema to me.  There is nothing more grating in conversation than imprecise, convoluted, and poor wording, because in the end, if you cannot pick the right words, how can you make your point?   It is for this very reason that I am left baffled by a brutal groping. 

I started thinking about this subject again on Monday, before the newspaper article.  I say again, because words are what I love about writing.  I am more interested in the words I am using than the story I am telling.  The story is basic and can be parsed down to two sentences.  A girl meets a boy and they enter into a business relationship.  They become romantically attached and have to work through and look past their differences before living happily ever after.  That isn’t really publishable, as such.  Luckily, I get to pick all the best words I can to create a whole world around this little story. 

Now, I was thinking about all of this on Monday because I woke up with the worst sinus headache I have had in easily six months, but more probably a year.  I had the day off (thanks Columbus! Side note, the Italians probably called him “Columbo” so why do we Latinize his name?  Anyone know?) and I really needed to get some work done but I couldn’t stare at a screen so I called in a favor.  Last week I took the ex to pick up a seventies sports car he bought a while back (what?  I wanted to see the car.  It looks like this only in blue.) and so I called him up and was like “yo, type my shit.”  Not really, I texted him and was very polite, as befitting a lady.  Anyhoo, because I was not typing he would occasionally question me in my choices, which was challenging in the best way possible.  I became more careful, more concise, in a word, precise.  As the clouds rolled in and the air pressure equalized, my head started to feel better and I could think.  So I thought about words, and maybe became a little bit better at writing than I had been the day before.  Or maybe not.  Meh, I will figure it out eventually.

*Sorry for dropping you in to this crazy world of crew vans and teamsters and lunch.  Basically, they feed us at work so that they only have to give us a half hour break as opposed to an hour, and on Monday they set up lunch at the studio because the location was not big enough to accommodate a whole buffet.  The crew vans are kinda’ self explanatory with such context I hope, and teamsters drive them.

**I found it in the Post.  ”B’klyn Perv Strikes Again” By David Seifman, Rebecca Harsbarger and Larry Celona. New York Post October 11, 2011.