Trying To Sound Smart

I think I’m a bit too precious with the kind of language I use when writing. 

I was about sixteen years old when I realized that, if I could make myself sound intelligent when writing an essay, it didn’t matter whether I knew what the hell I was talking about. If I wrote vaguely and eloquently enough, I could fool the teachers into thinking that I actually read To Kill A Mockingbird. 

This tendency could also have something to do with the fact I was (and still am, honestly) a bit of a Shakespeare nerd. I remember priding myself on being able to grasp a generally inaccessible form of language. Although the brutal irony is that Shakespeare himself wrote his plays to be understood by everyone, from the noble elites to the common layman. 

I only recently started to become aware of this tendency of mine. A month or two ago I was watching a Masterclass on writing by Dan Brown. I was totally captivated by his perspective on the craft and the wisdom he shared. I agreed with pretty much everything he said, but at one point he said something which really stood out to me. It was something along the lines of “Make the language of your work accessible to everyone. This isn’t an opportunity to show off your vocabulary.” Nevermind the fact that he had absolutely no idea who I was, this was obviously a personal attack aimed at me specifically. The first thought which popped into my head was “Fuck you, Dan! You’re nothing but a best-selling author whose legendary works have undoubtedly influenced the entire thriller genre! What could you possibly know about writing you arrogant fuck?!”

I’d always suspected that I had an unhealthy attachment to big words, but Dan Brown graciously shoving that fact in my face really solidified my suspicions. 

I have a habit of writing with the help of a thesaurus (not an actual hardcopy thesaurus, I use thesaurus.com). I usually do this because I don’t like reusing the same nouns, verbs, adjectives, and adverbs in the same paragraph if I can avoid it. I’m starting to see the inherent problem with this, however: if my work is written with a thesaurus, then it will likely need to be read with one as well, and that’s an unfair burden to place upon my audience.

Not to mention, I’m no longer trying to pull a fast one on my teachers. This flexing of my vocabulary was a useful (albeit hackneyed) technique for writing scholarly essays, but I’m trying to write works of fiction now. Trying to trick my audience into thinking that I’m a 200 IQ literary genius doesn’t make for a good story.

Also, Dan Brown, if you’re reading this - I forgive you.