I just wrote a comment in response to a +cronin detzz post regarding careful word choice when writing - in which she quoted Mark Twain's wonderful comparison of lightning to lightning bugs - and thought it might warrant a mention here too. According to recent research, the correct word choice can create 'lightning storms' in the brain. EEG brain scans show how 'functional shifts' - changing the grammatical class of a word - trigger greater activity in the brain areas normally associated with emotion and autobiographical memory. So says David Robson in an article in this week's New Scientist.
For an example, he looked to the Bard:
Shakespeare's "to lip a wanton in a secure couch" (from Othello), employs "lip", a noun, as a verb, and "wanton", an adjective, as a noun. It seems this use of language forces the brain to reason and function more and thus process the information at a deeper level. Shakespeare often uses this device at a scene's turning point, priming the reader for that 'wow' moment.
I'm now going to read through all my books, yes, all 400,000 words, and see if I do anything similar... and if I don't then get ready for some serious editing!
Phew, after extensive eye-balling of such intangibles, I'm all iPadded out.
As I recover, here's the next episode of 'Inversion 1', my soon-to-be sexy sci-fi classic, the book that finally put to rest the notion that girls can't write science fiction...
Inversion 1
Beginnings
Excerpt #9
As if that wasn't bad enough, a terrible thought struck me. A thought so bad, I had to voice it.
'You tried to wake me didn't you?'
'Wake you? I... I don't know what...'
Her tone gave her away. My anger overcame diplomacy.
'You tried to wake me and killed half the fucking crew. Didn't you?'
She was silent. Oh, fuck, I was right.
'Yes! No! I remember trying to wake you... But killed the crew? Me? Look, I don't remember that. I admit I looked for you. I had something to tell you. Something... Why would I kill them? How did I kill them?'
I spoke calmly, as though to a child, while all I wanted to do was to smash her to pieces.
'They suffocated. Stasis was switched off, pod by pod. Only you could do that. Time started, they breathed and ran out of air.'
'If you say so. But why didn't they wake up?'
'The crew was sedated. The pods were sealed. You know all this! How could you not know?'
She was petulant.
'But you woke up!'
I was shouting now.
'Yes, I did. But only just. I nearly fucking joined them. What were you thinking?'
There was a long silence. The images from Hold 18 flashed through my mind. She was suddenly contrite.
'I... I don't... I've lost some files. Crew profiles, stasis information, that sort of thing. And other stuff. I didn't know what was happening. I had to talk to you. It was important - I remember that much. But it's been such a long time.' In the ensuing silence, I stared out into space. 'Oh, my! What have I done?' Her obvious distress added to her sincerity. I almost believed her. Her next question wasn't rhetorical and took me by surprise. 'Why were they sedated?'
My response was immediate, came straight from the manual.
'Because it eases the transition in and out of stasis. Reduces psychological side-effects, nausea...'
'That's a bit dangerous though, isn't it?' Again, I simply stared into space. All the trials, all the data, supported sedated stasis. The risks had been deemed minimal. How could this have happened? The computer seemed to sneer. 'Whose dumb idea was that?'
There was the longest silence.
'Mine. It was my idea.'
'Oh.'
Inversion 1, a sexy sci-fi novel, will be published soon.
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