Paige Hawthorne: Blog

A free hint — it is not “accommodate”.That particular word has the distinction of being misspelled in the greatest variety of ways. I learned this and other interesting factoids in a recent “New Yorker” article by John McPhee.

In a course he taught at Princeton, he used a 20-word spelling test that had been developed by T. R. Brown III at “Esquire”. In all of McPhee’s years to teaching, only one student — Nina Gilbert — correctly spelled 19 of the words.

Mayonnaise, impresario, supersede, desiccate, titillate.

Some more? Resuscitate, inoculate, rococo, consensus, sacrilegious.

Still here? Obbligato, moccasin, asinine, braggadocio, rarefy.

Almost there... liquefy, pavilion, vermilion, accommodate.

And the most misspelled word in the English language?

IMPOSTOR.

You’re welcome,

Paige

PS In another part of his final exam for students in Princeton’s Journalism and Creative Writing programs, McPhee asked them to name the 11 words in the English language that end in “umble”. Ten of them are easy to guess.

(John McPhee is 92 years old.)

In politics, the ‘third rail’ is a metaphor for any issue that is so controversial that it is 'charged'. And thus untouchable in the sense that any politician who speaks out on the topic will offend enough voters to impact his career. Or hers.

Considering the SOL reader (through mail responses, story Comments, and blogs) I've decided there is one subject that qualifies for third-rail status. Now, I'm not talking about personal peccadilloes like sexual turn-offs.

The one temper-raising topic is, of course, politics. And, that's no surprise — SOL readers are representative of a divided America.

So, one of my fictional characters made some disparaging remarks about Trump. Boy, did I hear about that.

In another political arena — guns. Any gun-regulation discussion draws spirited reactions from both sides of the issue.

Now, a rational writer might well steer clear of these subjects. So, look for even more third-rail content in my future stories.

Not running for office,

Paige

Flash-fiction -- particularly the six-word story -- is fun and challenging. The most famous one is almost certainly improperly credited to Ernest Hemingway. The legend is that he won a bar bet from some writer-pals in the 1920s. However, versions of the tale date back to the early 1900s.

The story:

"For sale: baby shoes, never worn."

Interestingly, most people interpret it as something sad. A miscarriage, a tragic accident, a death of a parent, etc. But it could be that... oh, I don't know... a healthy baby was born with large feet.

Think positive,

Paige

Not to be confused with Epistrophe.

Diacope — take one word or phrase, put something in the middle, and repeat the phrase.

“Run, Toto, Run!”

“Bond, James Bond.”

And one that’s been around for a while …

“To be … or not … to be.”

You’re welcome,

Paige

Despite petitions, lawsuits, marches, boycotts, hunger strikes, threats of physical violence, membership resignations, sit-ins, walkouts write-ins, runouts, stoppages, and protests in the streets, the unthinkable has happened. Again.

For the sixth year in a row, the Big Clit finds me listed in the Author of the Year column. Yep — time for my annual humiliation. Why not double-dip it? I’m in that Lifetime thing too.

Plus, one of my stories limped into contention in two or three categories. Unfortunately, only one of my remaining three readers is able to figure out how to vote.

Once again, no one will be shouting, “Habemus Papam!” in my direction.

Paige