Editor's Corner

Good morning, folks!

I used to get emails from A.Word.A.Day (Anu Garg) each week, but they stopped coming some time ago. I figured they were, perhaps, off limits according to Jack Henry, or maybe Anu got tired of writing. In any case, I sadly bade them farewell. Then, about a month ago, they started to appear again! I’m so glad to welcome them back, and this week’s words fit right in with some of the terms I’ve been covering recently, such as 6–7.

The following are this past week’s five terms, their definitions, etymologies, and any notes that were included:

I can imagine saying, “Turn off the TV and leash Sylvie up. Let’s go out and touch grass!” No matter what you’re up to, I hope you enjoy your day!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Dear Editrix,

I believe that there are a few contractions that could be considered full sentences (don’t, perhaps?), but I recently ran into a situation where a response I got was intended to be a full sentence but made my skin crawl reading it.

I was texting with someone, and I asked them to let me know if their availability changed. Her response was “I’ll.” That was it! I know that she meant “I will,” but I chuckled at the simple “I’ll” and wondered why this seems so wrong? No wonder English is one of the hardest to languages to learn. So many rules.

Anyway … any insight you can provide on why some contractions are acceptable responses to questions and others not? I would never respond with “I’ll” or “you’ll” or “we’ll” as a full sentence. I’m sure that there is a rule somewhere.

Dear Reader,

I really had to work at finding an answer to this question! First, you are correct. “Don’t!” can be a complete sentence. The “you” is implied, as is the full meaning of the sentence “You do not do (whatever it is you are doing)!” But let’s look at the main question: Can you answer a question or end a sentence with a contraction?

I could not find an actual rule, but I found a lot of advice from smart people, whose advice was crammed into this explanation from AI:

Yes, there’s a strong grammatical tendency against ending sentences with positive contractions (like he’s, you’re) because they lose necessary stress and clarity, often leaving the sentence feeling incomplete or "hanging," while negative contractions (isn’t, can’t) are fine because the not carries the weight, but in cases of contrast, the full word (e.g., "I am," not "I’m") is preferred for emphasis.

Why Positive Contractions Don’t Work at the End

• Stress and Emphasis: Words at the end of a sentence usually carry emphasis. Positive contractions, by nature, are weak forms of words (like "he is") that lose their stress when contracted, making them sound unnatural or unfinished.
• Clarity: A sentence like "I think we’re almost there" works because the main verb "there" provides closure. But in a question-answer scenario, "Are you coming?" "Yes, I’m" leaves the listener waiting for the "am," so "Yes, I am" (full form) is required for clarity and completeness.

When They Can Work (or are acceptable)

• Negative Contractions: Isn’t, can’t, won’t are fine at the end because the "not" provides the necessary grammatical weight and negation.
• For Style/Poetry: Poets or informal writers might bend the rule for effect, but it’s generally considered non-standard in formal writing.

The Bottom Line: Stick to the full form (e.g., "I am," "he is") when the contraction would end the sentence or a clause to maintain clarity and proper emphasis.

So, dear reader, your instincts are good! For those of you with English as your second (or third, or 33rd) language, remember the short version of this AI-compiled rule:

You can end a sentence with a negative contraction (Is he here? No he isn’t), but not a positive one (Is he here? Yes, he’s).

And if you aren’t sure? Spell out both words until you become an expert at contractions.

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

While I was researching some of the Editor’s Corner topics from previous weeks, I searched for photos of castle bulwarks and loopholes. And then I stumbled on this spine-tingling and grotesque term: murder hole.

Okay, that sounds pretty disgusting, but I must admit that for some reason I have always been intrigued by the terrible actions of humans, usually wondering “Why would someone do that?” In this case, I couldn’t let the term murder hole slip by.

A peppy site called The Wonders of Ireland has an animated video showing one example of a murder hole, but I think a quick Wikipedia definition and some pictures will be faster. From Wikipedia:

A murder hole or meurtrière is a hole in the ceiling of a gateway or passageway in a fortification through which the defenders could shoot, throw, or pour harmful substances or objects such as rocks, arrows, scalding water, hot sand, quicklime, or boiling oil, down on attackers.

That’s horrible, but not nearly what I was expecting. You gotta protect your home and hearth, man! And now for some photos of murder holes:

And here are a few more details (these courtesy of AI):

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Location: Murder holes were typically located in the ceilings of gatehouses, over internal staircases, or above a passageway leading to a specific room.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Defensive strategy: They were part of a layered defense, used in conjunction with features like portcullises (grated gates) that could be dropped to trap attackers in a killing zone.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Attacking method: Once an enemy was trapped, defenders could attack with projectiles or liquids from a safe, elevated position.

<![if !supportLists]>· <![endif]>Other uses: Some historians suggest that in certain castles, murder holes may have also served other purposes, such as allowing for communication or letting in light.

The second photo above is from Deal Castle. I’ve never been there, but it looks amazing. It isan artillery fort constructed by Henry VIII in Deal, Kent (England), between 1539 and 1540.

On that note, I hope you have an enjoyable day and stay far away from any murder holes, unless it is to get a little sun in your chilly castle!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Good morning, friends! I was going to talk to you today about using “if” vs. “whether” in your writing, until I saw that we’ve done that three times in Editor’s Corner: 2021, 2014, and 2013. Well dang, people! Let’s start using them properly!

So, instead, today I’m going to share something that is related to the holidays, travel, and getting together with people we adore: winter ailments. There are numerous illnesses going around—I like to think I’m ahead of the curve because I had COVID and strep throat in the fall. But these words, from Mental Floss, are from the article: 10 Old-Timey Words For Winter Ailments. (See the full article for longer explanations of some of the words.)

meldrop

Derived from Scandinavian roots, meldrop was originally a drop of foam from a horse’s mouth as it chomped on the bit—the metal crossbar held in a horse’s mouth, the Old Norse word for which was mel. According to the English Dialect Dictionary, however, it came to have additional meanings in 16th-century Scots: Meldrop can be used to refer to both a drip of water from the tip of an icicle and a pendulous droplet on the tip of a person’s nose. [KC – What a lovely image: foaming horse mouths and a big snot-drop on someone’s nose.]

snirl

Besides being a long-forgotten dialect word for the nose—or for the metal hoop pierced through a bull’s nostrils—snirl or snurl is an old 18th-century dialect word for a stuffy head cold.

kiffle

To kiffle is to cough because you have a tickle in the throat.

fox’s cough

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, this is a hoarse, scratching cough that refuses to clear up, apparently so-called because the fox’s call is so raucous and guttural.

sternutament

Sternutation is a 16th-century medical word for the act of sneezing, which makes sternutament an equally ancient word for a single sneeze.

awvish

Probably derived from a corruption of half or half-ish, awvish describes someone who isn’t exactly unwell, but who isn’t feeling their best. A similar and equally evocative term from the 18th century was frobly-mobly, or fobly-mobly, which the lexicographer Francis Grose defined as meaning “indifferently well” in his Glossary of Provincial and Local Words in 1839. [KC – I like this one! It’s kind of like “so-so.”]

presenteeism

The opposite of absenteeism is presenteeism—a term coined in the early 1930s for the act of turning up to work, despite being unwell.

headwarch

Waerc was an Old English word for pain (which derives from the same ancient root as work). That makes headwarch an equally ancient word for a headache, which only survived into recent decades in a handful of dialects from the northern counties of England. [KC – Honey, can you turn the music down? You’re giving me a headwarch.]

kink-haust

As a verb, kink can be used to mean “to cough convulsively,” while a haust or hoast is a single cough or tickle in the throat. Put together, those words combine to form a dialect word, kink-haust (or kinkhost), which according to the 19th-century book Vocabulary of East Anglia was once used to refer to a combined “violent cold and cough.”

alysm

And finally, if some or all of the above apply to you, it might be worth remembering this obscure term from psychology and psychiatry: The restless boredom or ennui that comes from being unwell or confined to your bed is called alysm.

On that note, I hope you avoid the “yuck” and have a happy and healthy January!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Dear Editrix,

This is something I’ve noticed previously, but it seems to be more prevalent lately. People asking for another person to perform an action and saying: “May you…” rather than what I would say: “Would you…” (Of course, with a please added in.)

Not a burning issue, but I was curious, and who knows, it might lead to an interesting rabbit hole!

Dear readers,

I received this email a month or two ago, and I thought that I knew the answer. I told the submitter that the person speaking was incorrect and that “may you” is grammatically wrong. But sometimes “may you” is not wrong. When I read the answer from a panel of experts (via a Google™’ AI overview), I saw that there are circumstances in which it is correct.

Here are the details:

Yes, "May you" is grammatically correct, but it’s used for wishes, blessings, or formal expressions (e.g., "May you have a wonderful day!"), not for asking someone to do something. For requests, English speakers use phrases like "Can you?" or "Would you?" because "May you" sounds awkward and confusing in those situations.

When to use "May you…"

• Blessings/Wishes: "May you find happiness and peace."
• Formal Statements: "May this treaty bring lasting peace."
• Figurative/Literary Contexts: "May the Force be with you."

When not to use "May you…" (for requests)

• Awkward: "May you please pass the salt?" sounds like you’re asking if they have permission to pass it.
• Better alternatives for requests:

1. "Can you pass the salt, please?" (ability/informal)
2. "Could you pass the salt, please?" (polite)
3. "Would you pass the salt, please?" (polite request)

So, when you are asking for something, don’t use “May you”; use one of the alternatives. If you are blessing or wishing love and goodness to people, “May you,” is okay.

May you live long and prosper!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

After what seems like a year full of AI frenzy, it doesn’t surprise me that most dictionaries’ words of the year were about technology. As promised the other day, here are the words of the year from the Collins English Dictionary (vibe coding) and the Oxford Dictionary (rage bait).

The Collins Dictionary blog describes vibe coding like this:

Tired of wrestling with syntax? Just go with the vibes. That’s the essence of vibe coding, Collins’ Word of the Year 2025, a term that captures something fundamental about our evolving relationship with technology. Coined by AI pioneer Andrej Karpathy, vibe coding refers to the use of artificial intelligence prompted by natural language to write computer code. Basically, telling a machine what you want rather than painstakingly coding it yourself. It’s programming by vibes, not variables. While tech experts debate whether it’s revolutionary or reckless, the term has resonated far beyond Silicon Valley, speaking to a broader cultural shift towards AI-assisted everything in everyday life.

The man who coined the term describes it a little more casually (from Tech.Co):

It’s not really coding – I just see stuff, say stuff, run stuff, and copy paste stuff, and it mostly works. – Andrej Karpathy

The Oxford Dictionary chose rage bait as its word of the year.

Rage bait is defined as “online content deliberately designed to elicit anger or outrage by being frustrating, provocative, or offensive, typically posted in order to increase traffic to or engagement with a particular web page or social media content”.

With 2025’s news cycle dominated by social unrest, debates about the regulation of online content, and concerns over digital wellbeing, our experts noticed that the use of rage bait this year has evolved to signal a deeper shift in how we talk about attention—both how it is given and how it is sought after—engagement, and ethics online.

…(I)t has become shorthand for content designed to elicit anger by being frustrating, offensive, or deliberately divisive in nature, and a mainstream term referenced in newsrooms across the world and discourse amongst content creators. It’s also a proven tactic to drive engagement, commonly seen in performative politics. As social media algorithms began to reward more provocative content, this has developed into practices such as rage-farming, which is a more consistently applied attempt to manipulate reactions and to build anger and engagement over time by seeding content with rage bait, particularly in the form of deliberate misinformation of conspiracy theory-based material.

Isn’t rage bait two words?

The Oxford Word of the Year can be a singular word or expression, which our lexicographers think of as a single unit of meaning.

Rage bait is a compound of the words rage, meaning ‘a violent outburst of anger’, and bait, ‘an attractive morsel of food’. Both terms are well-established in English and date back to Middle English times. Although a close parallel to the etymologically related clickbait—which has a shared objective of encouraging online engagement and the potential to elicit annoyance—rage bait has a more specific focus on evoking anger, discord, and polarization.

The article continues on the website (Oxford Dictionary) and raises some interesting points about “being human in a tech-driven world.” I recommend having a look at the whole article. It’s a little scary.

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Good morning, and happy (almost) New Year!

It is my annual tradition to share the Merriam-Webster word of the year with you when we reach the end of December; this year is no different. I’ve been waiting to see what the different English dictionaries come up with for a few weeks now. You may be familiar with some of these that I covered in earlier episodes of Editor’s Corner, like parasocial and 6 -7. Other winners that I haven’t covered (but will cover soon) are vibe coding and rage bait. But the winning word from Merriam-Webster this year? Slop. From M-W:

Slop

Merriam-Webster’s human editors have chosen slop as the 2025 Word of the Year. We define slop as “digital content of low quality that is produced usually in quantity by means of artificial intelligence.” All that stuff dumped on our screens, captured in just four letters: the English language came through again.

The flood of slop in 2025 included absurd videos, off-kilter advertising images, cheesy propaganda, fake news that looks pretty real, junky AI-written books, “workslop” reports that waste coworkers’ time… and lots of talking cats. People found it annoying, and people ate it up.

“AI Slop is Everywhere,” warned The Wall Street Journal, while admitting to enjoying some of those cats. “AI Slop Has Turned Social Media Into an Antisocial Wasteland,” reported CNET.

Like slime, sludge, and muck, slop has the wet sound of something you don’t want to touch. Slop oozes into everything. The original sense of the word, in the 1700s, was “soft mud.” In the 1800s it came to mean “food waste” (as in “pig slop”), and then more generally, “rubbish” or “a product of little or no value.”

In 2025, amid all the talk about AI threats, slop set a tone that’s less fearful, more mocking. The word sends a little message to AI: when it comes to replacing human creativity, sometimes you don’t seem too superintelligent.

I can’t argue with their conclusion—I complain about slop a lot. I just tend to use a different “s” word. But I also admit to sending someone this AI cat photo just yesterday:

And then there are those Instagram videos of puppies and kittens in the kitchen with the Italian chef making little pizzas, being told that they need to work harder because, “This is not a daycare!” Here is a short Christmas version: working puppies (just click X on the Never miss a post message).

In the weeks to come, I will share some of the other words of the year with you. Until then, have fun, stay safe, and limit the slop!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

When I first started writing Editor’s Corner, I’d often write about things like serial commas, two spaces after periods, and words that I saw having a heyday (such as leverage) that made my hair stand on end. The older I get, the more I see the bigger picture and that language has all kinds of aspects that wax and wane.

Where am I going with this? Well, it’s the holiday season and I was reading about the word “gift.” When I was growing up, you would say, “How much should we spend on the Secret Santa gift?” “Did she receive an anniversary gift?” Gift was a noun—a present you gave to someone.

Now, gift is used as a verb.

This is where the article surprised me. I was expecting to hear that “gift-as-a-verb” was an invention of a newer generation, but I was wrong. Here is some information from the article in Merriam-Webster:

Yes, Gift Is a Verb

First things first: there are some among you who are asking, "Is the verb gift even a word?"

It’s a good question, and we have a good answer for you, which is, sorry, YES. Gift has been used to mean "to present someone with a gift" for 400 years.

To which you might well reply: "OK, fine, but do we really need it? What’s wrong with using plain, old, utilitarian give?"

And of course there’s nothing wrong with using give. It’s a great word, as is evidenced by the frequency with which we use it and the variety of meanings we’ve bestowed on it…. But a word that has such frequent and varied use can also be ambiguous. Take the sentence "She gave me the book." Without getting more information, we don’t know if the book was a gift or if she simply handed it to the speaker. But in "She gifted me the book" the meaning is instantly clear: the book was a gift.

…

While it’s true that gift has meant "to present someone with a gift" for 400 years, the verb has never been so widely used as it is now. It’s impossible to say exactly why this is, but we may be able to place a smidgen of the blame on a certain comedian.

Maybe you’ve seen the rerun: in a Seinfeld episode from January 1995 Tim Whatley "regifts" a label maker that Elaine gives him, and then Jerry wants to "degift" some Super Bowl tickets that he gave Tim when he thought he couldn’t use them.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to say that I “gifted my Mom a pair of socks,” or “My husband will be happy if I gift him coffee from Kauai,” but I’ve learned my lesson that it’s okay if someone else uses gift as a verb. As M-W explained, “She gifted me the book" makes it instantly clearer that the book was a present, not just a loan.

And now, I wish all of you a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, a lovely Kwanza, a festive Winter Solstice, a crazy Festivus, and joy celebrating whatever winter holiday comes your way.

Sylvie just likes getting dressed up in a little bit of everything:

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Hello there, folks! Today I have a couple more terms that have morphed through the years and through English, Dutch, and French. Again, these started as architectural terms, but their definitions have expanded. The first is bulwark. From Merriam-Webster:

1a: a solid wall-like structure raised for defense:rampart

b: breakwater, seawall

2: a strong support or protection

This is a photo of a traditional bulwark:

And this is a covered bulwark:

Sforza Castle Milan, Italy

Here is the modern meaning of bulwark (from AI):

“Any person, thing, or system that provides strong support, protection, or a safeguard against danger, doubt, or external threats, like a dam protecting against floods, a policy acting as a bulwark against societal ills, or a strong institution safeguarding liberty. It’s used figuratively for strong defenses, both physical (breakwater, cybersecurity) and abstract (moral principles, national policy).”

And here is the etymology, which links to another term, boulevard. First, from the Online Etymology Dictionary:

bulwark (noun)

early 15c., "a fortification outside a city wall or gate; a rampart, barricade," from Middle Dutch bulwerke or Middle High German bolwerc, probably from bole "plank, tree trunk" + werc "work". Thus "bole-work," a construction of logs. Figurative sense "means of defense or security" is from mid-15c. A doublet of boulevard.

Now let’s see where the etymology of boulevard comes from:

boulevard(n.)

1769, "broad street or promenade planted with rows of trees," from French boulevard, originally "top surface of a military rampart" (15c.), from a garbled attempt to adopt Middle Dutch bolwerc "wall of a fortification" (see bulwark) into French, which at that time lacked a -w- in its alphabet.

The notion is of a promenade atop demolished city walls, which would be wider than the old streets. Originally in English with conscious echoes of Paris; in U.S., since 1929, used of multi-lane limited-access urban highways. Early French attempts to digest the Dutch word also include boloart, boulever, boloirque, and bollvercq.

Modern-day boulevards are much bigger than roads on top of demolished city walls, but as with English words, time can change a lot. Here is a Parisian boulevard today:

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/

Good morning, folks! One of you sent me a speedy Facebook recording of a fellow word nerd a few weeks ago, and I was instantly hooked. Usually, this fellow speaks too fast for me to take notes, or there’s too much for one Editor’s Corner, or the topic might not be that interesting. Well, this time the planets aligned and I went through every minute of his recording. Each of the words he mentioned were originally architectural, but they have evolved over time.

I wrote down each item and have searched for examples of the terms, etymologies, original definitions, and modern definitions.

Today I’m going to start with the word loophole. Historically, a loophole (also called an arrow slit or arrow loop) is “a narrow vertical aperture in a fortification through which an archer can launch arrows or a crossbowman can launch bolts.” (Wikipedia)

Here is an example of a loophole. You can see there’s a lot of room for a kneeling archer to aim from, but little area for the enemy to return fire to.

And a view of loopholes from the outside of a castle we saw in Ireland.

But what is a loophole now? Here is a brief explanation of where the word came from and how it changed, from The Grammarist:

The term loophole came into use in the seventeenth century figuratively to mean a small opening or an outlet of escape. It soon became applied to legal issues, allowing those practicing the law to find (or watch for) loopholes or ambiguities in the law that could be applied to court matters.

Today the term is used almost exclusively in reference to the law or in legal documents.

Examples:

• Many loopholes in tax laws allow people to take advantage of certain credits to get more money back.
• My landlord tried to evict me over keeping a cat in the apartment. But luckily, my cat and I were able to stay due to a loophole in my contract stating no dogs were allowed, with no mention of cats.

Isn’t English interesting? I love taking the voyage from where a word starts to where it ends up. And of course, this may not be the end of the word’s journey. Check back with me in a few hundred years and I’ll let you know what happened!

Kara Church | Technical Editor, Advisory | Knowledge Enablement

Pronouns: she/her | Call via Teams | jackhenry.com

Editor’s Corner Archives: https://episystechpubs.com/