Writing a novel has its frustrations. For me, one of them is often having at hand a word that kinda fits what I’m trying to say, but isn’t the right one. Thus begins the search for the missing word, the forgotten word, the word just somewhere off in the ether taunting me with its proximity.
For those all too frequent times, I have my online Thinkmap Visual Thesaurus for which I pay good money. I also have the thesaurus in Word. Both can help. But not always. When all is lost I have hubby, a former English teacher. I will babble the sentence to him, give him the awful word that came to me, the one I reject with every fiber of my being, and hope he knows what I am trying to say. Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t.
If this word is still eluding me I have a decision to make. Do I stop what I am doing and begin a wholehearted search as if I were Juan Ponce de León looking for the Lost Fountain of Youth? Which he never found, by the way. Or do I carry on writing, hoping this errant word will come to me eventually? Decisions, decisions.
Dropping everything and searching for the right word pulls me out of my work, causing me to lose focus. And I also have a disease known as Maniacal Searchitus. It’s not catching, and I’ve known many other writers with this disease. I include them not because it gives me hope for a cure, but simply because misery loves company.
If left to my own devices, I can spend hours if not days getting lost in a plethora of words that suddenly appeal to me but have nothing to do with my original search. Take the word ululation. When I was at the Visual Thesaurus website, there it was. The word of the day. Ululation: the art of crying out in a high-pitched loud voice while rapidly moving the tongue and the uvula. I refrained from going to YouTube and watching a video showing this practice.
If it’s a verb I’m looking for, another trick is to go online and look at a product description. Everything is for sale. I could probably find another husband on Amazon if the one I have doesn’t learn to stack the dishwasher right. Product descriptions don’t always work. A lot of them are hackneyed and old hat. But sometimes they trigger the word I’m desperately seeking to come forward in my mind. Also, I’ve bought many an item I didn’t even know I needed using this method.
But the tested, tried, and true for me (yes, I know, hackneyed and old hat) is to put that first, awful word that came to me into the sentence, ghastliness and all. Not only does this allow me to continue with my writing, but the word will grate on me every time I see it and make me crazy. I will begin to ululate in sheer frustration. Eventually, I will stop everything I’m doing and work on the sentence until I find the exact word I need or throw the sentence out. It’s one or the other.
Because no writer wants thwarted readers ululating when the wrong word is allowed to get by.
Ladies of Mystery 
Fun post, Heather! I also try Word thesaurus and usually end up using my dog-eared, back cover and spine missing Roget’s Thesaurus. And if that doesn’t work, I will go to Google and put in a description of what I’m trying to say. That doesn’t always work, but sometimes it does. Especially if I can’t remember the name of something. And then sometimes, I just let the word go and it comes to me the next time I read through that sentence. Or I just put ?? and work on the word later. We all have our own methods of getting through each project and problem.
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I remember my Roget’s Thesaurus. It was better than anything you can find online or otherwise. I’m not sure what happened to mine. I think it might have simply disintegrated one night. ?? is a good idea, too. I will try that, as well, as the other stuff. Thanks.
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Bonnie, I love the idea of highlighting it in red! I will try that. Thanks for the tip.
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Yes, I feel your pain. I do the opposite. I sit there and gnash my teeth, then pop in the wrong word and keep on writing. The pain comes later but inevitably. When I reread the scene or passage the next day, I come to that word and I’m aghast. Susan, how could you write that when you know it’s wrong. And there, like a mother proving she knows best, some part of my brain shoves out the right word and I correct the passage, duly chastened and again gnashing my teeth over the truth that mother is always right. I’ll never go gracefully on that one. As always, love your post.
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Susan, thanks so much for your reply and input. On this issue, misery does love company. I feel a lot better knowing you go through the same thing!
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I think all writers face this from time to time. I highlight the word in red and continue writing because I do not want to lose focus. By the end of my writing session, the correct word generally has come to me.
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