Nearness Of A Dictionary

An earlier version of this piece appeared on Medium in September 2016. I also published another piece about dictionaries. It's a topic from which I can't seem to stay away.

---

Clear space on your desk and set an open dictionary there. Your writing life will improve immediately. At my writing desk in the the basement a dictionary lies open in front of me. I write by hand or type on a laptop or typewriter with that dictionary open to whatever word I last consulted. The dictionary, open at your desk, unavoidable, will change your writing life for the better.

Maybe you worry that page turning and searching will take time away from writing. Wouldn't it be better to just Google definitions?

Yes, using the dictionary takes time away from tapping keys and pushing a pen, but that’s good. Taking time for Facebook is bad. Looking through the dictionary has me thinking of words, finding new words, and returns me to words I've forgotten. I looked up sanguine to be sure that it described how I felt about the neighbor’s tree falling through our fence into the yard, and the definition helped shape the next few hundred words I wrote.

Browsing a record shop, I inefficiently flip through albums A to Z. Brushes with other records suggest new music and lead me into serendipity. Looking for one album, I find so many more.

Asking my phone to “define sanguine” brings up the definition and history in 0.40 seconds but only for that one word. In my dictionary sanguine is the last word on page 1041 which begins with sand, continues through sandalwood, sandhi, sandjack, sangfroid, sanguinaria, before ending at sanguine. Looking for page 1041, I passed saleroom, salt, and Samaritan and thought about the Good Samaritan, remembered a Slate.com article about salt in food, and wondered what the hell a saleroom is. None of that relates to how I felt about the fallen tree and crushed fence but had me feeling writerly. All because of the nearness of the dictionary.

I put a dot next to sanguine and every other word I look up curious when I'll return to that page. The dots amuse me when I find them again. I wonder what I was thinking and writing when I looked up that word. Occasionally, I look up a word I've previously dotted, the meaning having escaped me. I reread, add a second dot, and leave the dictionary open to that page as I go back to writing.

Leaving it open encourages my habit of using the dictionary. A closed dictionary likely remains closed. An open dictionary is a writer's friend and aid. It is also a little bit magical.

Using the dictionary is slow. Like handwriting, it makes words physical, slower than digital impulses. It has me taking time with the words.

Which dictionary you use doesn’t matter much so long as it lies open near your desk. Mom got me this Webster’s for college, so that’s what I use. Maybe your Mom gave it to you or some professor required one for class. If you lack a dictionary, they can be had cheap at a used book store, garage sale, or library book sale. Ask friends who don't write if you can have theirs.

Get a dictionary. Place it open on your writing desk where you will be unable to avoid it. Look up sanguine or maybe saleroom. Read the definitions. Put a dot next to it. Survey the words near it. And enjoy your improved writing life.

Two Emails

It's easy for me to get down about things. I'm in the middle of several problems at my job including one in which the school system is charging me a quarter per page for copies of a 147-page document. It's tough not to read that as snotty and mean. Maybe it's standard policy, but it's no way to treat people. My younger daughter has a nasty cold that's in her lungs now and which hasn't much responded to antibiotics. My older daughter is disappointed with her swimming at the last couple meets and befuddled by what's going on. I don't have solutions and struggle with not being able to fix things. It all brings me down.

Then I got a couple emails.

One was from a friend with whom I haven't spoken in years. We grew apart and he and his family moved away. Things just kind of fizzled. He sent a note catching me up and reading it I saw that he has had a more difficult time of things than I have, by far. As I read, I kept wondering, how do I respond to this when my life is so good? I don't want to be an ass and rub my blessings in anyone's face, but I keep being blessed and both his email and my response to it left me in wonder at how well things are going.

The second email was from another friend who lives with his wife in a country violently coming apart. I've been concerned for their safety and am relieved that they are preparing to move to Syracuse, but his wife's family, who are from that country, will remain behind in the midst of all that violence. I can't imagine having to leave my family behind like that, but there are few good choices. He asked if I could look at an apartment here in town for them. I not only had the time to do that, it was easy and showed me again how good I have it.

My daughter has a cold, my other daughter swam a fraction of a second slower than last week, management is miserly and punishing, but none of these things are overwhelming. We will take one girl to the doctor, tell the other to relax and just swim with joy, and I'll play $36.75 for copies and live to fight another day.

The problems aren't the takeaway from all this. It's the blessings that become clearer with each passing moment, too many of them to count.

Scott Simon

I don't listen to a lot of NPR any more because I prefer to read the news, but I often check the NPR website and I try to keep up with Scott Simon's weekly essays. Simon is a national treasure and should you require proof, his program from the week after September 11, 2001 is most beautiful and moving.

Much more recent is his essay about Christine Blasey Ford's testimony to the congressional committee considering a Supreme Court nominee. I found Ford's testimony moving and convincing. I find Simon's essay artful, graceful, and a spot-on consideration of the testimony and the ways in which we should be thinking about sexual assault.

Simon is kind. There can never be too much kindness in this world. He is a thoughtful writer, speaker, and thinker. If you're not reading or listening to his weekly essay, I can't recommend enough that you seek him out and pay attention. In these times, we need more Scott Simon and less of so much of the other news.

Make Things A Little Better

I took the scrubby sponge in the shower with me after running and mowing the lawn. Our tiled shower stall is old and lately pretty gross. There's black moldy stuff in the grout, a brownish film over the lower tiles, and I don't even want to discuss the state of the shampoo and conditioner bottles. We aren't filthy people, but don't clean on a strict schedule. That and I'm likely to push things such as shower cleaning not just to the back burner but right off the stove.

Taking the scrubby sponge in the shower, I let water run down my back while I scrubbed a section of tile. I cleaned mildew from the grout. I cleaned about two dozen tiles, a small section of the shower. I made things a little better. I've done this off and on for a week and the worst of the filth is gone. I'll keep at it.

I get caught up in wanting things to be a lot better right away. I want enough money to retire today, not tomorrow. I want to lose twenty pounds before sundown. I want to somehow become a best seller overnight (preferably last night) and have a whole new life. Strangely, none of that has happened and even I can admit it ain't going to right away. All I can hope to achieve today is to make things a little better.

I got up this morning and wrote three Morning Pages. It didn't change much, but I've done those three handwritten pages every day for more than four years. Each one changes me a little. I can feel those changes accumulating.

A friend invited me to walk and run the 185 Euclid steps. We went up and down five or six times then ran home. It was a short workout, the first run I've done this month, and it failed to earn me a spot on the cover of Men's Health. Still, it felt good enough that I want to run again, and I'm a little healthier for having moved my body and spent time with my friend.

Home again, I mowed the lawn. There are so many things I need to do around the house, but the lawn looks good and the house looks and feels a little better.

Then there's this short blog post about a simple idea. What good does it do in this world? If nothing else, it makes me feel a little better and making anything even just the tiniest bit better turns out to be good enough. If I keep going, little things add up. Real change just requires enough patience, belief, and persistence to make things a lot better a little bit at a time.