My life in vintage colors Memories of simpler times Silver robots; red wagons Silly neighbors; street parades A life of unhinged laughter Amens before the altar Real Santa’s; make-believe friends Rabbit-like cars; in-car phones Within the Heights of Richmond On a Terrace named Highland Dreams wake; reality sleeps The imagined; magic reigns.
I wish I were a skylight; a lamp atop the tallest building in my city; I want to look out from my lookout; I want to be urban; not sub but above urban; apart from you yet a part of your experience; not a subject, but a mere object; individually insignificant, collectively brilliant; just like you, but not like you; I want you to notice me, but not see me; to light your way, while staying out of it; eradicate shadows, yet staying in mine; my facade, faceless; your afterthought, thinking about you; extroverted travel to you 299,792,458 meters per second, from the introverted refuge of my bulb.
Staring down into a glowing abyss
Ever uncertain of what I might miss
My eyes are averted, my head affixed
To the ceaseless racket, drivel so crisp
To my eyes betrayed, the antithesis
Of a life spent free of its endless mist.
One of the reasons I began this blog is because I have a passion for writing, grammar, linguistics, and the hope to improve your own writing–however little or much that encompasses your life. Whether we like it or not, and fairly or unfairly, people will judge us based on our grammar and spelling in something as simple as an email. So, books, blogs, and that company memo aside, it’s best that we’re wary of our writing even during the most mundane task. And there’s no better way to do that than empowering ourselves with the greatest tool of all: vocabulary.
Recently, I was reading linguist David Crystal’s book The English Language and came across a passage about William Shakespeare’s estimated vocabulary versus the average person’s, but now I can’t find it, and am essentially rereading the book in search of it (that’s what I get for not bookmarking it–lesson learned). Therefore, instead I found some useful sites opining on the very subject, including this one, which estimates Shakespeare knew approximately 66,534 words; and this one, citing that the typical person has a spoken vocabulary of about 5,000, a written vocabulary of roughly 10,000, and that the average fourteen-year-old’s vocabulary decreased from 25,000 in 1950 to a mere 10,000 in 1999. Now, Shakespeare is more than the sum of his words, and you may not aspire to be him, but this comparison should at the very least point to the correlation between a good vocabulary and good writing.
OK, great–so, how do you get there? Well, you can either open up a dictionary daily (not a bad thing, albeit mundane–unless you’re a grammar geek such as myself), or you can read. And, no, your social media site of choice doesn’t count. I’m talking about something substantial, exhibiting many (new) words, and the way they coalesce with one another. You know: books. We live in a world where information is at our fingertips; one where we likely don’t go into any decision blindly, so why should we go into our daily lives of text messages, emails, and social media posts with the shades drawn? The only way one can truly improve their vocabulary is to interact with different words regularly, and there’s no better way to do so than reading a good book.
I frequently hear people say, “I don’t like to read.” And a 2014 study by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics shows they’re not lying, as the average American spends only nineteen minutes a day reading, with Americans ages twenty-five to thirty-four (eight minutes) and teenagers (four) reading even less. Compare that to the three hours per day that the average American watches TV, and it’s no surprise there’s so much bad writing and grammar out there. As someone who, too, likes his particular TV shows, my take from this is that we’d do well to watch TV a little less, and read a little more. Personally, I like to read at least three books a month, but merely reading one will offer improvement. And that one book per month (approximately ten pages per day) could be enough to set one apart–especially in a professional setting–by improving one’s ability at written communications.
Don’t know what book to start with? No problem; my book club has gone through plenty of good reads over the past year and I’m happy to suggest a few of my favorites:
All are fiction, and while I also read plenty of non-fiction, these were strictly the best written books I’ve read in the past twelve months. Not only are they all great stories, but the breadth of language used, and the artful way they’re each composed, makes them the great novels they are. What’s more, each compelled me to have my dictionary app available at all times, though if you’re struggling to get into reading I’d start with a notepad and a pencil (and look up the words when you’re finished) so you don’t interrupt your enjoyment, because books are meant to be enjoyed. And that’s the point: to actively enjoy doing something, while passively improving your vocabulary, and ultimately your writing.
Want to test your vocabulary? Check out this cool vocabulary test.
Questions? Contact me offline, or in the comments below.
And as always, thanks for reading.
Best,
-j
I saw you,
But didn’t see you.
I knew you,
But didn’t know you.
I felt you,
But didn’t feel you.
I held you,
But didn’t hold you.
I heard you,
But didn’t hear you.
I told you,
But didn’t tell you.
I sought you,
But didn’t seek you.
I liked you,
But didn’t love you.
I love photography,
But don’t much like photos.
Clinging to memories;
Negatives–I don’t know,
Doesn’t appeal to me.
To future, and to grow,
Is preferred, honestly.
However, apropos
Of this–the irony
Is not lost on me, though;
Knowledge, maturity;
Photos offer windows
In time to the many
Circumstances that show
A glimpse: identity,
Gained ever thoroughly.
Thanks for reading.
-j
If I were a present
I’d be the future.
If I were tangible
I’d be untouchable.
If I were a scene
I’d be unseen.
If I were an object
I’d be a subject.
If I were a word
I’d be unknown.
Thanks for reading.
-j
Poem, that wasn’t a poem
Inquired why it wasn’t so.
Therefore you cannot be,” they rebuked.
“If ignorance precludes art,
How did the first poet pen a poem?” Poem replied.
Else they wouldn’t be the first,” they declared.
Poem persisted.
Obviously,” they quipped.
Was it not a subsequent poet who declared the first poet a poet?” Poem persisted.
Aren’t you?” they scoffed.
I am a poem,” Poem objected.
And your author is naive,” they lectured.
If the first poet wrote me what would I be?” Poem posed.
theisswriter: typing things. for me. for you. 