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What’s the difference between denounce and renounce? Their related Latin ancestors shared a neutral sense, but in English they acquired exclusively condemnatory connotations. Denounce is externally directed — one denounces another’s words or deeds — while renounce is internally focused — one renounces one’s own viewpoints or actions, or is called on to do so.
The Latin precursor of denounce, denuntiare, means simply “to announce” “to proclaim,” or “to command,” although in ancient Rome it could also have a negative connotation. Borrowed into English from the Old French verb denoncier, it is invariably accusatory. Denunciate, a more direct descendant of the Latin term, is rare but serves as the basis of the noun form, denunciation.
Renounce comes from the Old French term renoncer, in turn derived from the Latin word renuntiare, which is synonymous with denuntiare in the neutral sense, but the English word means “to abandon a viewpoint or philosophy”; synonyms are forswear and repudiate.
The root element of these words, nunt, is related to the Latin word nuntius, meaning “messenger,” from which was formed the Italian word nuncio, which refers to an envoy of the head of the Roman Catholic Church; it was borrowed into English with this meaning.
Two other words formed from this root are announce (the original Latin prefix was ad-, meaning “to,” as in advertise — literally, “to turn toward” — so that it means “to bring a message”) and pronounce (“to put an announcement forth”). The latter word’s past-tense verb form, pronounced, also became an adjective meaning “marked” or “emphatic.”
A variation on announce, more faithful to the original Latin through its association with Catholicism, is annunciate, which is rare, though the equally uncommon annunciation is best known as a proper noun for a church holiday commemorating the angel Gabriel’s announcement to the Virgin Mary that she would bear a child.
Original Post: Denounce vs. Renounce
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When you wish to refer to something that serves to prevent, which is the correct adjectival or noun form, preventative, or preventive? The latter word is more commonly cited, appearing by a ratio of three to one, but the longer variant is also widely employed, and with increasing frequency. Might, however, does not necessarily make right. So, which one is better?
Both words date back to the 1600s, and the latter predates the former by a mere several decades. It retains the upper hand, however, for two reasons: First, the extra syllable is superfluous, and second, it is supported both by quality as well as quantity: The most respected publications favor preventive, while preventative is more likely to appear in print and online sources with less rigorous editorial standards. That’s a good enough reason to favor preventive.
What about similar word pairs such as exploitative and exploitive, which both refer to underhandedly using someone or something to one’s advantage? Like preventative and preventive, the first attestations of these words are only a few decades apart, though they are much more recent coinages; exploitative goes back only to the late nineteenth century, and exploitive is less than a hundred years old. But there’s a significant difference between this word pair and the previous one: In this case, the longer form is widely considered the standard, and exploitive is the inferior alternative.
Fortunately, the correct form of most words ending in -ive is obvious, as with cumulative, formative, and representative. But other endings can confuse, such as with the question of whether to use orient or orientate as a verb. In this case, each refers to facing the east, though only orient correctly applies to other references to setting or directing.
Likewise, there is the case of systematic and systemic, both of which are valid terms, but with mostly distinct senses: Though both terms obviously pertain to systems, only systematic also refers to classification and to coherent, methodical, thorough procedures. Systemic generally connotes only biological systems and is neutral in value, as opposed to the qualitative senses of systematic.
In summary, as a careful writer, research proper usage for word endings in order to avoid employing the incorrect of two similar words or a less favored variant.
Original Post: Preventative vs. Preventive
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What’s the difference between a bond and a bound, and the relationships of the verb and adjective forms? Both words have to do with constraints, but the multiple meanings aren’t necessarily related.
A bond is something that binds — literally, as with chains, or figuratively, as an agreement or a financial obligation — and the word is etymologically related to bind as well as band. The last word is from Old Norse and is related to the Scandinavian word bindan, which means “to bind.” Borrowed into English, that word developed into two terms: band, meaning “something that binds,” and bande, meaning “a flat strip.” With the loss of the appendage e, the four-letter word now represents both meanings.
The latter sense of band is the origin of the use of the word in “rubber band” as well as the reference to a musical ensemble (from the military origin of the band, whose members, as soldiers, would wear insignia, originally in the form of strips of cloth, in common) and, by extension, any group that travels together or associates.
However, the second syllable of husband, which means “dweller,” is etymologically unrelated to band. (The first element, as you may have guessed, means “house.”) Nevertheless, it became associated with bond because although the Old English word bonda means “householder,” in the feudal era, the connotation was of a serf or a tenant farmer, hence the idea of restraint.
A bound is a limit, and the verb form means “to form the boundary of,” but from the sense of bind, it also means “fastened” or “compelled.” The adjective bound means “confined” (“I’m bound to my desk for the next eight hours”) or “obligated” (“I’m bound to honor my agreement”), as well as “sure” (“It’s bound to get better”) or “determined” (“She is bound to get her way”). Note, however, that this last sense can seem ambiguous: “She is bound to get her way” could be construed as referring to certainty, not resolve.
The same word seen in such constructions as “I’m bound for Europe” and in the compound homebound is unrelated; that word comes from a sense of “to prepare,” another meaning for the word that formed the second part of husband. The bound used, for example, in the sentence “They watched him bound from group to group” or forming the root of rebound is from a third source, a French word meaning “leap” or “echo.”
The noun and verb bend, by the way, is related to band and bind, as well as to the German word bund, meaning “league.”
Original Post: Bonds vs. Bounds
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What’s the difference between discrepancy and disparity and other similar words beginning with the prefix dis-? The meanings are often the same or closely related, but some distinctions apply:
Discrepancy, the noun form of the rarely used adjective discrepant, stems from the Latin term discrepare, which means “to sound discordantly.” A discrepancy is a variance from or disagreement with something, as in the discrepancy between inventory figures and actual stock, or between a statement on a certain issue and a record of a previous comment about the same topic.
Disparity is a noun form of the adjective disparate. (Disparateness is its more unwieldy synonym.) The root of these words is the Latin term parare, which means “to prepare.” Although disparate means “different” or “distinct,” disparity has a more precise connotation, one of inequality.
Meanwhile, a dissimilarity or dissimilitude (the root of these terms is the Latin word similis, the basis of same, similar, simulate, and resemblance) is a lack, respectively, of commonality and resemblance.
Distinctness and distinctiveness (both, like distinguish, from the Latin word distinguere, meaning “to separate, to prick apart”) have similar rather than distinct meanings: Distinctness refers to notability, an unmistakable quality or phenomenon, or a separateness; distinctiveness, meanwhile, also refers to a markedly singular trait but may alternatively apply to a stylishness or other state that sets something apart.
In an bygone era of unregulated spelling, discreet and discrete were originally alternate spellings for the word meaning “separate, distinct,” but the former form eventually took on a specialized sense, one of “careful, prudent.” The latter form is often erroneously used in place of the well-established variant spelling for that meaning.
Original Post: Discrepancy vs. Disparity
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Is it possible to simultaneously admire the vibrancy and flexibility of the English language and grumble about shifts in meaning that deprive the language of some of its richness? I know it is, because I often do so. Because of the organic nature of language, English is a victim of semantic drift — not as cataclysmic as continental drift, but detectable on the rigor scale — and I regret the loss of the far-flung flotsam.
Semantic drift is the evolution that occurs in the meaning of some words when careless, ignorant usage alters or even reverses their senses. Such change is inevitable, but allow me to mourn the loss of a word here and there, never again to be applicable to an idea or image with such crisp clarity. Here are five terms tainted by semantic drift:
1. Aggravate
The essence of aggravate is right there in the middle: grav-, the root of gravity and grave (as in “serious”; the word for the resting place of a coffin has a different etymological origin). The Latin word gravis means “heavy,” and aggravate originally literally means “to make heavy”; the original sense was “to make worse.”
But almost immediately — and naturally, because a burden is irritating — it acquired the additional sense of “exasperate.” Use of that meaning now predominates. Wordsmith H. W. Fowler proclaimed that “to make worse” is the only correct sense of aggravate; he was undoubtedly irritated (not aggravated) to know that popular usage defied his decree.
2. Bemused
The root of this word, muse, means “to think or ponder,” but it has an amusing origin; it is from a Latinate term for “snout” and became associated with cogitation from the image of lifting one’s nose in the air, perhaps to sniff a scent and consider its source. (It is apparently unrelated to, though influenced by, muse, meaning “to think,” from the name of the Muses, the Greek goddesses of the arts and sciences; this is also the origin of museum and music.)
Bemused (“confused”) is often confused for amused (“comically entertained”) because of their original similarity of meaning: Bemused literally means “thoroughly thinking,” suggesting being confused by thinking too much, whereas the literal meaning of amused is “without thought,” with the connotation of being diverted from thinking by some lighthearted entertainment. However, bemusement is serious business.
3. Nonplussed
This word, taken literally from the Latin words for no and more, originally was used in the noun form to describe a point from which one could not continue because one was perplexed. For five hundred years, that’s what the word meant. But at some point during the twentieth century, people inexplicably began to assume that it refers to the opposite state, that of being unfazed (not unphased!) or at ease, as if being plussed were a state of bewilderment and nonplussed therefore means “not bewildered.”
The antonymic meaning soon went viral, and now one is likely to be unclear about which meaning a speaker or writer has in mind. When that happens, perhaps it’s best to retire a word altogether — and fortunately in this case, at least bewildered and perplexed persist (for now) with unequivocal synonymic meaning.
4. Nostalgia
This battle was lost long ago, but the case study is interesting. Nostalgia was coined (from the first part of the Greek word f
It’s easy to confuse the meaning of prone and supine — and it’s important to distinguish between them, because they’re antonyms. (I also discuss here some of the synonyms of each word.)
Prone, from the Latin term pronus, means “inclined to,” and it is commonly used in this figurative sense as well as to mean “lying face down.” Pronate, used both as a verb and as an adjective, means “to bend forward” or “bent forward,” respectively.
Prostrate, a synonym for prone, means not only “lying flat”; it has the additional connotation of “stretched out” and often refers to the adoption of that position to indicate submission, as a subject lying prostrate before a monarch. (Prostrate, not prostate; that’s the name of a gland in male mammals.) Prostrate is also the verb form, and prostration is the noun form. (Prostration is not to be confused with obeisance, which refers to the mere act of bowing.) Procumbent is another synonym; it also describes nonrooting plant stems that trail along the ground.
Supine, from the Latin word supinus, means “thrown or turned backward,” and describes someone who is lying on one’s back; unlike prone, it has no figurative sense. Supinate is also an adjectival form, and supination is a noun meaning “the act or state of lying on one’s back.”
Recumbent is a synonym that also suggests the act of leaning back or resting, as on a bed or couch; in addition, it describes such a pose in visual art. Decumbent, meanwhile, also means lying down and in botany denotes a plant that does that but has vertical parts. (Yes, incumbent, meaning “one who occupies an office or position,” is related to the other -cumbent terms here.)
Prone and supine each have rarely used adverbial and noun forms: pronely (or simply prone) and supinely, and proneness and supineness.
Pronation and supination are used in anatomical and medical contexts to refer to the position of limbs, especially, in sports medicine, to the placement of the foot while running; supination (or underpronation) can cause injury.
Supine also has a meaning as a noun; it refers to an infinitive phrase starting with to or, in Latin, to a specific type of noun.
Two terms similar to prone and supine are dorsal and ventral; dorsal refers to the back, and ventral refers to the abdomen. To help you remember which is which, think of how the first syllable of dorsal rhymes with porpoise, distinguished by its dorsal fin. Ventral, meanwhile, though its first syllable is not etymologically related to vent, can be remembered as the side from which you breathe.
Mnemonic clues to help you remember which is which include thinking of the pro- in prone (which actually means “forward”) to remind you that when you are prone, your face is toward the floor or ground. Supine, meanwhile, can be related to spine, which when you are supine is in contact with the floor or ground.
Original Post: Prone vs. Supine
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Look-alike, sound-alike words can cause confusion. Note the distinctions between each pair of terms listed below:
1. Abjure and Adjure
Abjure, from Latin by way of French, means “to deny” or “to renounce,” or “to avoid.” Adjure, which took the same route to English, means “to confirm” or “to command,” or “to advise or urge.” In some senses, therefore, they are near antonyms. (That’s logical: Ab- means “from” and ad- means “to.”) However, they do share a root syllable, the same one that is the basis of jury, jurisprudence, just, justice, and other terms from the realm of law.
2. Chafe and Chaff
Chafe, ultimately derived from the Latin term calefacere, “to make warm or hot,” originally meant just that, but then, from the added sense of “rubbing to make warm,” it acquired the negative connotations of “make sore by rubbing” and then, by association, “irritate.” Chaff, an unrelated word, comes from Old English and refers to seed husks and, by extension, anything discarded as worthless. By association with the cloud of husks and other debris produced during threshing of grain, bursts of tiny scraps of metal ejected from aircraft to interfere with enemy radar is called chaff.
3. Discomfort and Discomfit
These similar-looking words have similar meanings, but it was not always so. Discomfort is the antonym of the word ultimately stemming from the Latin term confortare, meaning “to strengthen.” (Fort is also the root of, well, fort, as well as fortitude.) Discomfit, from the French word desconfit, meaning “defeated” (its Latin root means “to make”), was weakened by false association with discomfort to mean “frustrate” or “perplex.” Unlike the antonym for discomfort, comfit (“to make”) is not an antonym; it refers to candied fruit. Comfiture, however, is a rare synonym meaning “an act of support.”
4. Perspicacious and Perspicuous
Both words stem from the Latin term perspicere, meaning “looking through,” which is also the source of perspective. (The element spic, from specare, meaning “look at,” is also the root of spectacle and speculation.) However, the meanings are distinct: A perspicacious person is one who is astute or mentally alert; the quality so demonstrated is perspicacity. A perspicuous argument is one that is plainly clear and precise.
5. Practicable and Practical
Something practicable is usable or feasible, while something practical is useful — a slight but significant distinction. Practicable is used to refer to something that is or could be done (“a practicable policy”), while practical is associated with action or use: A practical umbrella is one that keeps rain from falling on you in the rain; an impractical one is decorative but not sturdy or waterproof enough for practical use.
6. Turbid and Turgid
Turbid refers to a sate of cloudiness, opacity, or obscurity; its Latin source is turba, meaning “confusion.” Turgid, from the Latin term turgidus, meaning “swollen,” means just that — or, by extension, “embellished” or “pompous,” in that a turgid speech, for example, is delivered by a person swollen with self-importance.
7. Waiver and Waver
Waiver, referring to abandonment or relinquishment, is from an Anglo-French word meaning
While reading an otherwise well-written and well-edited book, I was bemused to note that the number of high school students in the United States had “lept” from one total to another over a given span of years. How was it, I wondered, that the fact that lept is not a word escape a writer, a developmental editor, a copy editor, and a proofreader (assuming that the manuscript benefited from perusal by each of these agents) — not to mention a spell-checking program?
It’s easy enough for a writer to be mistaken about the validity of such a word. Leapt is a variant of leaped (more commonly used in British English than in American English, but gaining in popularity on this side of the Pond), but the writer can be forgiven for assuming that just as the past tense of creep is crept and those of keep, sleep, sweep, and weep are kept, slept, swept, and wept, leap takes a past-tense leap to lept. (Creeped is not a word, except informally to refer to being creeped out, the sensation of being disturbed by someone or something thought to be creepy, and keeped, sleeped, sweeped, and weeped are likewise nonwords, though the last two mutations sometimes sneak past editors.)
A moment’s thought, however, will make it clear to the writer that this progression (or is it a regression?) is not universal: The past-tense forms of beep, peep, and seep are beeped, peeped, and seeped, rather than bept, pept, and sept. (That last word is valid as a noun meaning “clan” or “branch of a family.”) More significantly, though, words identical to leap in spelling as well as sound form past tenses of heaped and reaped, not hept and rept.
English is full of challenging inconsistencies of spelling and pronunciation: Compare the present and past tenses of read — identical in appearance but not in sound — and note the difference in tense transformation for head (headed) and lead (led), not to mention the fact that the present-tense forms are pronounced differently.
These idiosyncrasies make it all the more important for even native speakers and writers — including those with decades of experience — to consider the consequences of less-than-stringent vigilance: Nobody else may notice your mistake, either — until I pick up the published book and write a post about it.
To help you maintain a high standard of diligence, remember this hypothetical penalty (one that I should post a notice about in my office): Pretend that spelling and other mechanical errors are a capital crime, and see what this imaginary impetus does for your motivation to avoid them.
Original Post: A Writer Lept to a Wrong Conclusion
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Palette, pallet, and palate are three similar words sharing (in most senses) a common etymology that can trip writers up. Here’s a guide to the distinctions in meaning, plus a look at other distantly related words:
If you were to describe a traditional image of the artist at work, you and I would likely note the same tropes: the beret, the smock, the painter squinting one eye as he looks down his outstretched arm at his model or subject next to his upraised thumb or paint brush (a strategy that helps him determine proportions).
And in his other hand would be a flat, oval board, held with a handy thumb hole, with small, variously colored glops of paint — a palette. The name of this handy paint-mixing surface comes from French (certainement!) — the original meaning was “blade” or “small shovel” — and ultimately derives from the Latin term pala, meaning “shoulder blade” or “spade.” Palette, by association, later came to refer to the range of colors employed in a work of art or, later, available in analog and then digital graphic design. Several other, more obscure senses exist.
A pallet, meanwhile, is a flat structure made of wooden slats (or, increasingly, other materials), used to support heavy items in storage and when hauling freight, or a wooden tool used in pottery or a flat component in an analog clock that sets it in motion. In heraldry, pallet denotes a vertical band of color. These meanings derive from the “blade” sense of palette. The same word used to refer to a crude bed or mattress, the latter generally stuffed with straw, is unrelated.
The palate, the name of the roof of the mouth, is also of Latin origin: Palatum means just that. (Oddly, the palate, rather than the tongue, was long considered the medium by which taste is experienced, hence the use of the word to mean “sense of taste.”) The adjective palatable means “tasty.” Another adjective, palatine, used in anatomy to identify, for example, the palatine bone, is unrelated to the identical-looking word derived from palace.
Plate and its many forms are only tangentially related to this trio. Taken as is from French, it originally meant “a flat piece of metal,” ultimately from the Greek word platys, meaning “flat,” which was borrowed by Latin as plattus. The sense of a shallow dish is from the fact that such utensils were originally made of precious metals; one meaning of plate, singular in construction but plural in meaning, to refer to valuable dishes retains this sense.
Words with the same origin as plate include plateau, platelet (literally, “little plate”), platen, platform, platinum, platitude, platter, and platypus (literally, flat foot”).
Original Post: Palette vs. Pallet vs. Palate
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Is there any difference between farther and further? Merriam-Webster’s online dictionary notes in a usage discussion that as an adverb, farther and further are used indiscriminately when literal or figurative distance is involved:
“How much farther do we have to go?”
“It’s just a mile further.”
“How much further do you want to take this argument?”
“I’ve taken it farther than I want to already.”
However, in adjectival form, a distinction has developed regarding use in these senses:
“My house is the farther of the two.”
“She needs no further introduction.”
But dictionaries are descriptive; they describe not how people should use language, but how they do use it. However, language maven (and therefore prescriptive) Bryan A. Garner, in Garner’s Modern English Usage, advises, “In the best usage, farther refers to physical distances, further to figurative distances,” and I agree: Popular usage demonstrates just that — popular usage — and the careful writer maintains distinctions that enrich the language. (Write eager when you mean eager, for example, and anxious when you mean anxious.)
Farthest and furthest, by extension, should maintain the same distinct meanings; use these forms in favor of the burdensome farthermost and furthermost. Furthering and furtherance are interchangeable noun forms that serve as synonyms for promotion or advocacy; there is no equivalent noun form for farther.
Further is also employed as a modifier, as in “Further, I see no reason to delay the proceedings”; furthermore is a variant. Farther, however, does not fit this role.
This Daily Writing Tips post from a former contributor has a somewhat different take; as always, consider what you read here (and there) a springboard (or two) for farther — I mean further — research to help you make up your mind about how you write.
Original Post: Farther vs. Further
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Whether you post a flier or a flyer depends on whether you’re assigning a pilot to an air base or tacking a piece of paper to a bulletin board.
Flyer, first attested hundreds of years ago, was the original agent-noun form of fly, with the obvious meaning of “something that flies.” Later, however, it came to be associated with swift objects, whether airborne or not. This description was widely employed to refer to various vehicles, including trains, planes, and automobiles, as well as boats and ships (and even a submarine, although the name was spelled Flier).
Flyer is also another name for the architectural feature usually called the flying buttress, and it’s the appellation of hockey teams in the United States and throughout northern Europe. In addition, it is used in the sense of financial speculation (because such action is compared to a leap of faith), such as in the phrase “take a flyer.”
However, although that spelling was commonly used as a synonym for pilot (though not until a quarter century after the advent of mechanized flight), the alternate spelling, for some reason, came to predominate in referring to airplane passengers — hence, “frequent-flier miles.”
Long before aviation as we know it first occurred, however, flyer, initially a slang term, became a widespread term for a single sheet of paper posted to advertise or inform. (One source mentions that it was first used to refer to notices in police stations, and that the term was associated with widespread dissemination analogous to a flock of birds taking flight.) Although both spellings are used for this sense, flyer is more common, as flier is the usual spelling in reference to air travel.
Interestingly, two American authorities, Bryan A. Garner, author of Garner’s Modern American Usage, and the Associated Press Stylebook, recommend flier for all senses; however, Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary allows that flyer is more common when referring to a leaflet, and popular usage bears this out.
Analogous agent nouns are split in their spelling: Cry becomes crier (though cryer appears in some sources to refer to a court officer who makes proclamations and to a female hawk), but dry becomes dryer and fry becomes fryer. Prier, slier, and sprier are the preferred comparatives of pry, sly, and spry, but pryer, slyer, and spryer are acceptable.
My recommendation for flyer/flier? I’m siding with Merriam-Webster’s, as usual: Pilots and passengers are fliers, and pamphlets are flyers.
Original Post: Flier vs. Flyer
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Adverse and averse share the root verse, which stems from the Latin term vertere, meaning “to turn.” But their meanings are distinct and, taken literally, antonymic: Adverse, from the Latin word adversus (“turned toward, facing”), means “antagonistic”; the original term conjures of image of confrontation. Averse, meanwhile, comes from aversus (“turned away”) and means “strongly disinclined” or “strongly unfavorable to.”
Other forms of adverse are adversary, meaning “opponent,” and adversity, referring to the quality of opposition. Adversary is also an adjective, but, perhaps because of confusion with the noun form of that word, adversarial came to prevail in that usage. Avert, meanwhile, is related to averse and means “to turn away, to avoid.” (Veer, though it has the same meaning, is unrelated; it’s from a Germanic word meaning “to slacken.”)
A whole family of other words with the verse root exist: Converse means “the exact opposite” and has the noun and verb form convert, meaning “someone who turns” and “to turn,” respectively, and the noun form conversion, referring to the act of converting. Converse also means “to speak with someone” (to “turn” speech) and leads to the adjective conversant and the noun conversation. (The latter used to also mean “living together” or “having sexual relations.”) Diverse, originally divers, means “distinct” and is the parent of diversity, divergent, divert, and diversion.
Extrovert, which means “turned outward,” is mirrored by the antonym introvert. (These also serve as noun forms.) Inverse means “turn about” or “turn over” and has the verb form invert and the noun form inversion. Obverse, meaning “turned toward,” is the opposite of reverse, “turned away,” which, unlike the more rarely used obverse, has a noun form, too: reversal. Perverse, which means “turned away (from what is correct),” has the noun forms pervert, for a person, and perversion, for the quality. Transverse means “turned across” (the rare noun form is transversal), and traverse means “to pass across.”
Versus also ultimately derives from vertere by way of, well, versus. (The Old English suffix -weard, from which we derive -ward — seen in toward, forward, and so on — is akin to versus.) Other related words include verse (from the idea of “turning” from one line of verse to another), versed (“knowledgeable” — literally, “one who knows verses,” with the connotation of one who “turns over” a subject of study), and versify, or “write verse.”
Anniversary, meanwhile, literally means “year turning,” and universe, originally meaning “all together,” is derived from the words for “one” and “turn.” University, referring to a place of learning, stems from the idea of “whole,” with the connotation of “community.” (Varsity, an alteration of a shortening of university, denotes the primary group of athletes in any sport who represent a university or other school.)
Original Post:
And in Part III of my Misused Words and Phrases series, I have a few words that when misused make you sound ignorant or stupid (not the same thing, btw). These words are at the top of my pet-peeve list. How about you? What misused words make you cringe?
Here are some words that you’ll see or hear used incorrectly on a daily basis. Check newspapers, especially. Continue reading →
In Part II of Misused Words and Phrases I have gathered a list of some of the more confusing word combinations. How many do you confuse in your writing?
your/you’re
Your means “belonging to you.” You’re is a contraction of “you are.” Continue reading →
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By:
Chris Rettstatt,
on 2/25/2008
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It’s been a while since I’ve posted an update on my book series, Kaimira. Book one (The Sky Village) is pretty much done except for the illustrations and the back matter. There will be six full-spread (2 page) illustrations, which is rare for a YA book and which I’m terribly excited about. Don’t tell the illustrator, but I’m using one of the illustrations as my computer desktop. The back matter consists of several fun index-type world building pieces, some with sketches.
As for book two, Nigel and I are about 50,000 words into it. We’ve left behind the two settings from book one (the Sky Village and the Demon Caves) and it’s huge fun building out the new settings and cultures.
I love me some world building.
In related news, I was trying to create a Warcraft III custom map / scenario that showed one of the Kaimira battles. There are several different types of golems, and they make excellent meks, and there are a number of different types of animals. (The world of Kaimira is set in a future in which humans, animals, and robots are at war with one another.)
Once I’m done, I’ll have a fun little Warcraft game in which the robots are occupying the city, the beasts are surrounding the city ready to invade, and the humans are in one little corner trying to survive in this 3-way battle, and then ultimately pushing back the robots and beasts and taking back the city.
