Homonyms, homographs, homophones—you probably encountered all these words at some point in school, and you may even remember what they mean. However, reading blogs, newspapers, magazines, and even sometimes books, it’s pretty clear that not everyone took the lessons to heart
Writing on a computer can give you a false sense of security. After all, you’ve got those little squiggly lines to tell you when something is misspelled or your grammar is wrong.
At this point, some of you may be smiling, thinking you’ve got this beat. Don’t be so sure. I actually find that, the larger the working vocabulary of a writer is, the more likely he or she is to write something wrong. In two years, I’ve only seen one case where a writer used the correct word to express someone reading something carefully and thoughtfully: pore. I’ve seen “pour” a dozen times. If you pour over a book, you’re just getting it wet.
I’m not sure what it means to peak your curiosity, unless it’s a high point in your research. Yet increasingly, that’s what I see, instead of “pique.” Remember, homophones are the writer’s nemesis. (Oh yes, and then there’s peek.)
I’ve taught a couple of writing classes, and I always say there are only two things you need to look up—all your words and all your facts. Do it. And not just so you avoid looking ignorant in print. The more you know, the more you laugh. A huge amount of wit and humor is based on homophones, and it’s darn hard to be clever if no one learns to differentiate. I see this with my blog, The World’s Fare. For anyone who knows that fare is food, as in “bill of fare,” it’s no surprise that this is a food blog. However, since Wordpress shows me what search terms people use, I see a stunning number of requests for things like “the 1893 Chicago World’s Fare.” So that means all those folks have no idea that the blog name is a play on words.
I’ll make an effort here to clarify the difference among the “homos” we’re discussing (though confusion in this area is actually increasing over time, rather than being reduced, and some educators now use the names interchangeably. But even if you believe those who think they can swap these names around, it’s good to know the major concepts, as one can help with speaking and another with writing, while the third is a bit more restricted in its application).
Homographs are words that are spelled alike but not pronounced alike, such as the bow of a ship vs. a bow and arrow. These matter most to public speakers. Writers are often readers, and the term “readers vocabulary” describes the common malady among readers of having read more words than you’ve ever heard anyone speak aloud. (When I was a kid, I thought Perseus rhymed with Zeus. Oops.) If you are going to read something in public, familiarize yourself with the pronunciation key or find a website with a “speech” function (though I’d probably only trust this somewhere like the Merriam-Webster site).
Homonyms (means “same name”) are words that have completely different origins but have ended up being spelled the same in English. These are actually only an issue for writers who are working in education, as they occasionally need to teach word origins, and often do it badly because they don’t know what these are. There are tons of examples, but one that I’ve seen mis-taught is compound. The kind of compound you studied in chemistry comes from Latin com, “with” or “together,” and ponere, “to put.” A military compound comes from the Malaysian word kampung, which means a village or group of buildings. These kinds of words always have separate listing in the dictionary. I’ve seen language lessons butcher this concept—but to be perfectly honest, for most writers, it won’t matter that you don’t have a clue about the word’s origin.
Homophones (means “same sound”) are where most writers go off the rails. This is where we run into the pore/pour and peak/pique/peek issue mentioned above. Some other combinations that get folks into trouble are reek/wreak, compliment/complement, bare/bear, principle/principal, capital/capitol, site/cite/sight, descent/dissent, they’re/their/there, taught/taut, and course/coarse. These are not the only possibilities, but they are ones I’ve actually seen in print within the last year.
So seriously—even if you don’t ever get to the place where look up every word, at least keep track of the words mentioned above. Never write “peak your curiosity,” “pour over a book,” or “change the coarse of history.” It either makes you look careless or it perpetuates errors. Neither of those is something we wordsmiths should wish to see happen.
