Editor's Corner

My first real job many, many years ago, was in a butcher shop. I was 15½ years old, so I didn’t get to do any cutting or chopping—I just got to clean the saws, grinder, and rotisserie; rake up the fallen “parts” in the sawdust; and dance in the dumpster to make room for more garbage.

Anyway, the other day, one of our clients wrote to me about the term “sausage-making.” Oh yeah, that’s its own special kind of fun in the meat department. But she was saying that she heard it being used in conjunction with politics, so I thought I better find out more about this term.

The most lengthy reference I found was on a blog about political terms and clichés, including sausage-making. While I won’t comment on the politics, I will give you the usage and definition of this term by providing some excerpts.

Legislation is like sausage. You want the outcome but you don’t want to see how it’s made.

When the intricacies of one proposed health-care model [KC – Or any political issue and legislation.] get too complicated to discuss any further, the commentator dismisses the line of discussion with, It’s all part of the sausage-making process.

Clearly, sausage-making has become a conventionalized term, a micro-cliché meant to encapsulate both the ugliness of the legislative process as well as the implication that the public would be better off not knowing about this ugliness. Like most clichés, it started with a clever idea but has now become a lazy shorthand, an expression that permits us not to dwell too long on its meaning.

Here’s a word to the wise: never eat anything called ham salad.

Thank you to Mr. Hooper for sending this our way!

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

Symitar Documentation Services

Good morning, friends.

Well, the weekend is in the past. I know that I speak for many of you when I say that our two days off passed much too quickly.

Did you notice my use of past and passed in the previous sentences? It’s my clever lead-in to today’s article. You see, a few people have mentioned recently that they have trouble figuring out which word is correct: passed or past. I’m here to help.

Let’s start with passed, which is a verb. It’s the past tense of pass. Regular past tense verbs end in –ed (cleaned, lifted, screamed, loved, etc.). We use the verb pass and all its conjugations (he passes, they passed, we are passing, etc.) to talk about moving on, going on, or proceeding.

On the other hand, the word past can be an adjective (The days of my childhood are past), a noun (We cannot live in the past), or a preposition (The bird flew past my window). Past is typically used to describe time that has elapsed.

Here’s a hint to help you remember which word to use: generally, passed is about movement and past is about time. (Past has the letter t in it and so does time.)

Does that help, or are you past caring?

Donna Bradley Burcher | Senior Technical Editor | Symitar®

8985 Balboa Ave. | San Diego, CA 92123 | Ph. 619.278.0432 | Extension: 765432

Symitar Technical Publications Writing and Editing Requests

NOTICE: This electronic mail message and any files transmitted with it are intended
exclusively for the individual or entity to which it is addressed. The message,
together with any attachment, may contain confidential and/or privileged information.
Any unauthorized review, use, printing, saving, copying, disclosure or distribution
is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in error, please
immediately advise the sender by reply email and delete all copies.

My fabulous coworker Donna and I were chatting the other day about the local animal shelters and our own “pound puppies.” The second I said pound, I asked myself (since Donna was no longer listening to me), “I wonder why it’s called the pound?” Days later, Ben saw the note I wrote to myself and he said he had a guess. “I bet it’s related to the word impounded.” What a smart man our dear Ben is. He was on the right track, but pound actually came before impound. Here’s what I discovered:

From Wikipedia:

An animal pound was a place where stray livestock such as pigs were impounded in a dedicated enclosure until claimed by their owners or sold to cover the costs of impounding. The terms pinfold and pound are Saxon in origin. Pundfald and pund both mean an enclosure. There appears to be no difference between a pinfold and a village pound. The term pinfold seems to be more popular in the north and east of England, whilst in the south and west the term pound is more popular.

The village pound was a feature of most English medieval villages, and they were also found in the English colonies of North America and in Ireland.

A high-walled and lockable structure served several purposes; the most common use was to hold stray sheep, pigs, and cattle until they were claimed by the owners, usually for the payment of a fine or levy. Early pounds had just briar hedges, but most were built in stone or brick, making them more stock-proof.

From my friends at the Online Etymology Dictionary:

· pound: "enclosed place for animals," late 14c., from a late Old English word attested in compounds (such as pundfald "penfold, pound"), related to pyndan "to dam up, enclose (water)," and thus from the same root as pond. Ultimate origin unknown; some sources indicate a possible root *bend meaning "protruding point" found only in Celtic and Germanic.

· pond: c. 1300 (mid-13c. in compounds), "artificially banked body of water," variant of pound "enclosed place.” Applied locally to natural pools and small lakes from late 15c. Jocular reference to "the Atlantic Ocean" dates from 1640s.

· impound (v.): early 15c., "to shut up in a pen or pound," from assimilated form of in- "into, in" (see in-) + pound (n.). Originally of cattle seized by law.

The town pound of Glocester, Rhode Island, c. 1748

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

Symitar Documentation Services

Here’s a set of words I get mixed up all of the time: a while and awhile. I think I even wrote an article on this years ago, but until I found this information in the Grammarist, I could never remember when to use two words or one.

Awhile vs. A While

Awhileis an adverb meaning for a while, and it only works where it would bear replacement with that three-word phrase. Where for a while wouldn’t work in its place, it is probably not an adverb, so it should be two words: a while.

For instance, in the sentence, “Guests waited awhile for food,” awhile is one word because it is an adverb modifying the verb waited (note also that for a while would work in its place). In the sentences, “We have a while left to wait,” and, “I saw her a while ago,” a while is two words because while functions as a noun.

Awhile has existed in various spellings since the days of Old English, but there is a mistaken belief among some English speakers that the word is a new form and thus questionable. That’s why it is so often unnecessarily rendered as two words. And in fact, if you are not comfortable with the word and are unsure if you’re using it correctly, making it two words is always safe because no one will consider it wrong. But careful writers who understand where to deploy the adverbial awhile need not fear it.

Examples

· But if they give him The Tonight Show back, maybe it ends up all right after a while. [Hollywood.com]

· Starlings foray across the land and rest awhile on the sunlit twigs of ash. [Guardian]

· After a while, Rawls came in to let another set of children have a chance. [Washington
Post]

· Crazy Horse watched this awhile and then rode down the river where some men were going out to repair the talking wires. [Crazy
Horse: The Strange Man of the Oglalas]

· We’ve been talking for a while when Baroness Campbell of Surbiton suddenly cuts to the chase, and leaves me speechless. [Telegraph]

· Beyond the bar, soft white leather booths beckon you to sit, take off your coat and stay awhile. [In
Arkansas]

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

619-542-6773 | Ext: 766773

Symitar Documentation Services

NOTICE: This electronic mail message and any files transmitted with it are intended
exclusively for the individual or entity to which it is addressed. The message,
together with any attachment, may contain confidential and/or privileged information.
Any unauthorized review, use, printing, saving, copying, disclosure or distribution
is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in error, please
immediately advise the sender by reply email and delete all copies.

I missed Halloween and El Dia de los Muertos, but I guess this is better late than never. Today, I have some words for you from page 600 of I Never Knew There Was a Word for It, by Adam Jacot de Boinod.

· onychomancy (1651) fortune-telling using reflected light on oiled fingernails

· pessomancy (1727) divination by throwing pebbles

· belomancy (1646) divination using arrows marked with symbols or questions, guidance being sought by firing the arrows or drawing them at random from a bag or quiver

· planchette (French 1920s) a small, heart-shaped board on casters with a pencil attached; when participants in a séance touched it lightly the planchette allegedly wrote messages from the dead

And let’s throw necromancy in there just for fun! From Merriam-Webster:

a (1) : the art or practice of magically revealing the future, of magically influencing the course of natural events, or of magically attaining other purposes especially through communication with and the intervention of the dead (2) : the art or practice of magically conjuring up the souls of the dead b : magic in general especially when directed toward the attainment of evil purposes : witchcraft, sorcery

planchettes

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

Symitar Documentation Services

I know, we spend a lot of time telling you to use basic English to get your ideas across in a technical environment. Today, however, I have a list of longer, fancier, unusual words for you from Tom Sterns (at GrammarBook.com). I know there are a lot of creative writers and word lovers out there in the audience. This one’s for you!

Pareidolia You know how every so often you read about people who see Jesus Christ in a tree trunk? Or some woman in Ohio who keeps a swirl of moldy Cheez Whiz in a vault because she sees the visage of Elvis? That’s pareidolia: the phenomenon of finding the familiar in an improbable place.

Misology This is a word for our times. It means hatred of reason, logic, enlightenment. People who oppose higher learning and progress used to be dismissed as fools. Now a potential voter’s misology is something many politicians pander to.

Billingsgate Foul or abusive language. It derives from a rowdy fish market in seventeenth century London. It’s innocuous-sounding and obscure enough to work to your advantage if you’re ever sitting with your family near a foul-mouthed sot who won’t shut up. “Please, dude, go easy on the billingsgate, huh?” OK, that probably wouldn’t work, but you tried, and let’s hope it sounded mild enough to avoid a drubbing.

Prelapsarian If you describe a garden as prelapsarian, you’re praising its unspoiled loveliness, not criticizing it for being dated or out of fashion. We get this word from theology. It’s meant to evoke the state of innocence before the Fall of Man.

Paraprosdokian One or more sentences that end in an unexpected way. Here’s a fine example: “The car stopped on a dime—which unfortunately was in a pedestrian’s pocket.” Bet you never saw that coming. (Neither did the pedestrian.)

Orthoepy It’s supposed to be or-THO-a-pee, and by telling you that, I sort of defined the word: it’s the study of proper pronunciation.

Callipygian Here’s a strikingly euphonious alternative to leering-frat-boy language. It means “having shapely buttocks.” I think I prefer it to badonkadonk.

And here’s a fantastic photo from Frank W., via Facebook. It’s about time someone trained us to act like the 16th century Welsh and English!

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

Symitar Documentation Services

My friend, Kara, is always thinking ahead, and last week, she suggested that I might want to dedicate today’s Editor’s Corner to the topic of Halloween. Since we focus on grammar, not haunts and ghouls, I’ll concentrate on a spelling- and punctuation-related issue.

Did you know that until the end of the 18th century, Halloween was spelled Hallow-E’en, Hallow E’en, or Hallowe’en? The Online Etymology Dictionary has this entry:

…the word and the magical lore about the date were popularized by [Robert] Burns’ poem (1785, and he attached a footnote explaining it), but it probably dates to 17c. in Scotland and is attested as the name of a tune in 1724. The tune is mentioned again in an English-Scots songbook ("The Chearful Companion") in 1783, and Burns was not the first to describe the customs in print.

Hallow-E’en, or Holy Eve, is the evening previous to the celebration of All Saints. That it is propitious to the rites of divination, is an opinion still common in many parts of Scotland. [John Main, footnote to his poem "Hallow-E’en," Glasgow, 1783]

Hallow is a noun that means holy person or saint. E’en is a shortening of the noun even, and it means the end of the day or evening, which we have shortened even further to eve. We use eve to designate celebrations that take place in the evening of the day before another holiday.

Halloween takes place on the night before All Saints’ Day, also known as All Hallows’ Day (November 1). And, therefore, Halloween is also sometimes referred to All Saints’ Eve or as All Hallows’ Eve.

If you want to know where the dressing up and begging for candy comes from, Wikipedia has an interesting article. You may not be surprised to learn that it’s another delicious idea that we got from our British forebears.

Donna Bradley Burcher | Senior Technical Editor | Symitar®

8985 Balboa Ave. | San Diego, CA 92123 | Ph. 619.278.0432 | Ext: 765432

Some days I come up with ideas for Editor’s Corner based on an article I read or a conversation I have with someone. Other times, I hear it is “Talk Like a Pirate Day,” or I see that a certain holiday is coming up, and I want to tie in our lessons with that. Today’s fodder is just based on an odd occurrence. I was reading an advice column and the advisor told the writer he was being gaslighted. I wasn’t that interested in his problem to start with, so I just skipped to the next letter and then decided I’d had enough of other peoples’ problems.

Fast forward an hour or two, and I opened one of my grammar emails. At the top of the email was the term gaslighting. Well, if that wasn’t a message from beyond to include this in Editor’s Corner, I don’t know what is. So, without further ado, I have the following article from The Grammarist.

Gaslighting

Gaslighting is the process by which a person manipulates another person into doubting his own sanity. For instance, an employee might ask a boss why he gave a plum assignment to a colleague who is less talented or competent than herself. Instead of giving a rational explanation, the boss counters by telling the employee that she’s too sensitive. This is a form of gaslighting.

Another gaslighting example is a parent who accidentally steps on his child’s foot. When the child cries, instead of apologizing and comforting the child, the parent trivializes that child’s pain.

Gaslighting can be insidious as individual examples of manipulation may seem inconsequential, but the effect is cumulative. The victim of gaslighting begins to second-guess himself, to not trust his own perceptions, to doubt his memory and finally, his sanity.

The term gaslighting is derived from the 1938 play Gas Light, written by Patrick Hamilton. In the play, a woman is nearly driven mad by her manipulative husband who is after her inherited jewels. One of the ways in which the husband makes his wife doubt her sanity is to deny that the gas-powered lighting occasionally dims, though in truth, it does. The popular play was adapted into two movies; Ingrid Bergman won an academy award for her portrayal of the harried wife in the American version, Gaslight. The verb form is gaslight; related words are gaslights and gaslighted. Note that the term is now rendered as one word.

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

619-542-6773 | Ext: 766773

Symitar Documentation Services

NOTICE: This electronic mail message and any files transmitted with it are intended
exclusively for the individual or entity to which it is addressed. The message,
together with any attachment, may contain confidential and/or privileged information.
Any unauthorized review, use, printing, saving, copying, disclosure or distribution
is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in error, please
immediately advise the sender by reply email and delete all copies.

Fossil words are words that are not widely used outside of one or two well-known phrases. For example, the word ado has been fossilized in the phrases "without further ado" and "much ado about nothing."

Here are 14 more fossil words, along with the phrases in which you can still find them. The definitions are from Merriam-Webster.

· amok: in an undisciplined, uncontrolled, or faulty manner ("run amok")

· bate: reduce the force or intensity of ("bated breath")

· beck: summons, bidding ("beck and call")

· bygone: gone by; past ("let bygones be bygones")

· craw: the stomach ("stick in one’s craw")

· desert: deserved reward or punishment ("just deserts")

· dint: force, power ("by dint of")

· eke: to get with great difficulty ("eke out")

· fro: back, away ("to and fro")

· hale: retaining exceptional health and vigor ("hale and hearty")

· hither: to this place ("hither and yon")

· immemorial: extending or existing since beyond the reach of memory, record, or tradition ("time immemorial")

· jetsam: the part of a ship, its equipment, or its cargo that is cast overboard to lighten the load in time of distress and that sinks or is washed ashore ("flotsam and jetsam")

· ken: the range of perception, understanding, or knowledge ("beyond one’s ken")

Bonus Spelling Tips

The phrases "bated breath" and "just deserts" trip up many spellers who mistake the fossil words bated and deserts for the more common homophones baited and desserts. Here are some tips to help you remember the correct spellings.

Bate is a shortened form of the verb abate (meaning "to reduce in intensity"). When you’re excited, you might reduce the intensity of your breathing.

Tip: Think of "abated breath," and then drop the a.

Desert (in the sense of "just deserts") and deserve come from the same Anglo-French word: deserver.

Tip: A just desert is deserved.

In my next post, I’ll list 13 more fossil words and warn you about two more common spelling traps. I know you’ll be waiting with bated breath.

Ben Ritter | Technical Editor | Symitar®
8985 Balboa Avenue | San Diego, CA 92123
619-682-3391 | or ext. 763391 | www.Symitar.com

Symitar Documentation Services

NOTICE: This electronic mail message and any files transmitted with it are intended
exclusively for the individual or entity to which it is addressed. The message,
together with any attachment, may contain confidential and/or privileged information.
Any unauthorized review, use, printing, saving, copying, disclosure or distribution
is strictly prohibited. If you have received this message in error, please
immediately advise the sender by reply email and delete all copies.

Today I have two etymologically related words for you from Words of a Feather: A Humorous Puzzlement of Etymological Pairs, by Murray Suid. It may seem a bit grim, but I’m just trying to get you in the mood for Halloween.

Denouement and Noose

Noose sounds like the sort of word that grew up in the Old West, a dusty term suited to frontier justice.

Denouement, on the other hand, has a wonderfully sophisticated feel about it, especially if—like the French—you pronounce the final syllable nasally. If you’re not confident about your pronunciation, try pinching your nose shut as you say the word while imagining yourself chatting with the literati at the Algonquin Hotel, circa 1920.

Yet strange as it seems, the two words are closely related. Noose comes not from the American West but the south of France. It derives from Old Provincial nous, “knot,” which traces back to the Latin nodus, “knot.”

Denouement comes from the same knotty root by way of the Old French desnouer, “to untie.” In other words, denouement is the place in the story where the plot is unraveled.

The word is in the long tradition of fiber-based literary expressions. The most memorable example is clue, from the Old English cleowen, “ball of yarn,” an allusion to the story of Theseus, a Greek hero who escaped from the Labyrinth by following a long thread. The same idea is contained in the nineteenth-century sailors’ phrase “spinning a yarn.”

The complex etymology you just read may itself seem like a yarn. But why shouldn’t truth be stranger than fiction? “Fiction, after all,” explained Mark Twain, “has to make sense.”

Kara Church

Technical Editor, Advisory

Symitar Documentation Services