Words evoke a memory, image, or a feeling to the conscious mind. Whether those evocations are pleasant are reliant on a great many factors that stretch from grandiose to the mundane. As a self-professed writer and someone who likes words, I am all too aware of how words can inflict pain or sooth a wound. Needless to say, I prefer the latter but know, too, that the former is necessary. Of course, not to purposely hurt, but in the making of point or to explain a situation. I mean really, how would we know what life was like in Middle Earth without some heavy words?
Today, thinking about how words excite me, I decided I’d like to see if, dear readers, you’d play a game with me? Let’s call this game “My Favourite Words”, okay? The rules are simple: Tell me your favourite word, or words if you cannot pick one. For every word you send me, I’ll find one I’m fond of. In a couple of weeks, I’ll post prose with all the words in it. Come on. Help me out. It should be fun!
And so I am wishing tonight for a group effort. As solitary as I am, asking for help of any kind has never been a strength. I would like to change that but it’s a habit deeply settled and not ready to leave home. Because of that, I’ve been approaching the whole issue asking for help thing from different angles with a modicum of success. Tonight is another attempt to trust that asking is a-okay. Don’t let me down! Pretty please?