Quoting a proverb to stress a point remains a good writing tool. Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616) wisely stated: “A proverb is a short sentence based on long experience.” We all live our lives by well-known proverbs, but despite their wisdom, many conflict in meaning. Consider the following:

A proverb on which I have relied many times, with more success than failure: “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” remains a valid formula for success; but its wisdom may be offset easily by: “Better safe than sorry,” which withholds action, sometimes to the person’s benefit. To be sure, choosing inaction to action assures the safer course to avoid potential mistakes, but taking no risks will yield fewer benefits.

Hence, “He who hesitates is lost,” supports some risk, as in “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” but that risk is counterbalanced against safety, with “Look before you leap,” a cautious, well intended proverb, in alignment with: “Better safe than sorry.”

If one were to prioritize the previous four proverbs in order of importance for prudent action, I suggest: (1) “Better safe than sorry” advanced to (2) “He who hesitates is lost, ” followed by (3) “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” but be sure to (4) “Look before you leap,” One could rearrange the order in various sequences to support any decision, good or bad. In weighing the above proverbs, however, we must also consider the people with whom we associate, as well.

A proven admonition in dealing with unsavory groups, like: clicks, gangs, or hoodlums: “Birds of a feather flock together.“ On the other hand, in love relationships, “Opposites attract.” So which is it? I suppose people flock together, to confirm the proverb: “The more the merrier,” but when the crowd starts to pair off in a romantic coupling, then “Opposite’s attract” brings: “Two’s company, three’s a crowd” to the forefront.

Lastly, we must remember: “The only thing constant is change,” which lends solace and justification when outside events adversely impact our lives beyond our control. Not to worry: “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” The first justifies or rationalizes a changed circumstance; while the other mollifies an unexpected change as having little effect.

In the end, one can find a wise proverb to support any desired action, relationship or change. Thus, the wisdom of proverbs depends on the desired result at the time.

Though the four letter word PHAT sounds like neither FARD nor PHOT, it differs from PHOT by only one letter to warrant inclusion. Both FARD and PHOT sound like a bathroom words, but each enjoys a clean meaning; whereas PHAT bears multiple meanings, some of which are good, and even relevant to this post. PHAT harbors a technical term, a favorable connotation, as well as a blue meaning in some circles.

According to my old Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary (1980): PHAT is an adjective describing “of copy or type matter: susceptible to easy and rapid setting.” No help here.

An American Slang Dictionary expanded the meaning to:
1. Excellent; very good, pleasing, desirable: everything is phat
2. Musically, describing a full, deep, and bassy sound originating from hip-hop.
A little better, but still no off-color connotation. All remains well, not a blue note in the bunch.

But by delving into the word origin of PHAT, we discover that it took on a Hip Hop connotation in the 1980’s as the “sexiness in a woman,” and may have originated as an acronym for: ”pretty hot and tasty,” Online Etymology Dictionary (2010); or perhaps as snope.com offers, for “pretty hips and t- – s” or “pretty hips , a – – , and t – – s.“ I have omitted certain letters to titillate the reader’s imagination, and to keep it clean. An acronym which picks up false etymologies are known as “backronyms,” meaning that the usage came later. Irrespective of PHAT being an acronym or a backronym, the useage still applies. Aha! Now we are getting somewhere.

Accordingly, PHAT qualifies as a four letter word to describe female attributes deemed important to some male admirers. Notwithstanding its “favorable” connotation from the male viewpoint, I must raise an important word of caution: before one uses PHAT to compliment or to nurture a relationship, one should be aware that no self-respecting female would tolerate being described as being PHAT!  The peaceful ambience would abound with multiple four letter words in retribution.

As a young boy, I developed a curious interest in four letter words. I knew the meaning of many, but not for those considered most vulgar. Educational pursuit drove my quest for knowledge, rather than any basic prurient interest. Nevertheless, I guarded my ignorance with caution, lest my school chums tease me as a mere tyro on the facts of life. I conducted secretive research in our home library, consisting of an old edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, and an even older edition of a Webster’s Dictionary. Not surprisingly, none of the forbidden four letter words made the edit. Over time, with sly discrete inquiries and through idiomatic context, I became aware of their meaning.

Thereafter, I still carried a fascination with four letter words, and collected them, as a kid would collect baseball cards. Occasionally, I would flip one to win a point. Whenever I located a good four letter word that sounded like a bad one, I reveled in the discovery and added it to my collection. For example, the ubiquitous word FART is a four letter word that every kindergartner knows, evoking childish laughter upon a mere utterance. Can you think of any other sound alike words, not homonymous but close enough? Consider two:

FARD and PHOT! Both sound alike, and easily could be mistaken for an over-exuberant rush of foul air, teasing the ear and nose; while in truth, their respective meanings approach astuteness and, and in one case, enlightenment. In fairness, I will use both words in a sentence, so the reader may determine their meaning from context. (1) Did you FARD today? (2) If you remain uncertain, let me add a little PHOT to the question.  Alas, if neither context helped, Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary provides their meaning:

FARD, may be used as a noun or a verb, meaning: to paint the face with cosmetics; to gloss over, as a verb; and the paint used on the face, as a noun.

PHOT may be used only as a noun. No action here! Despite sounding like a Bostonian utterance, A PHOT is a ray of light; defined as: a unit of illumination equal to one lumen per square centimeter.

Accordingly, an actor may FARD in a PHOT without awakening the aural and olfactory senses.

My freshman college English professor introduced me to the famous writing primer, Strunk and White, The Elements of Style (New York: MacMillan, 1979.) William J. Strunk taught English at Cornell University in the early part of the twentieth century, and had self published a small handbook, known on campus as “the little book”, to improve the writing of his students. E. B. White, a student of Strunk, republished the booklet forty years later.

Through frequent usage, my thumb-worn copy became unbound, requiring rubber bands and staples to hold it together. With sadness, likened to the loss of a loyal friend, I replaced my underlined, highlighted and note-ladened version with a clean, intact later edition. For some, the little book may seem outdated today, but it contains many useful writing tips. Three of my favorite Strunk tips stress concise writing, repeated below in quotes, with my comments:

1. “Write with nouns and verbs, not with adjectives and adverbs.” (Strunk, 71) Without strong nouns and action verbs, a sentence fails. Adjectives and adverbs limit rather than expand meaning. No matter how descriptive an adjective, it cannot improve a weak noun. Similarly, an action verb avoids the need for a descriptive adverb. My early writing years featured sentence diagraming, which placed nouns and verbs in a prominent place on the diagram line, with adjectives and adverbs modifying them on a slant line. Substituting a stronger noun in the subject and an action word for the verb enabled removal of unnecessary adjectives and adverbs.

2. “Omit needless words. . . Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences . . .” (Strunk, 23.) Revision is the fun part of writing. Tightening a paragraph, and the sentences within, will energize a written work. Reducing a sentence to a clause; a clause to a phrase, or a phrase to a word, brings an “eureka” moment to the writer, as it omits needless words, and improves clarity.

3. Use the Active Voice. . . makes for forceful writing.” (Strunk, 14) In forceful writing, the action will move from the subject through the verb to the object. In Passive voice, the action flows in reverse. Importantly, this rule does not declare that use of the Passive voice is wrong, however, for in many instances it may perform better.

Strunk included many other writing tips, but to my thinking the three above merit special attention and, if followed, will inject vigor and force in one’s writing.

In my early writing years, merely facing a blank page would stir a gnawing anxiety in the pit of my stomach; and before writing the first word, I would ask myself the question: “Where shall I begin?” To answer to that question, I relied on the wisdom distilled from two of my favorite quotes, but with little comfort:

1. “Begin at the beginning, . . . and go on till you come to the end; then stop.”
— Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass.

2. “One thing is certain! You must begin somewhere, lest nothing gets written?” — My first mentor

With such advise, how could one go wrong? Every writing primer advises an author to begin with an outline to organize thoughts. In an ideal world, a writer would select a topic, prepare an outline, and write the paper from beginning to end from that outline. Rarely, does it work that way! As one writes, new thoughts arise: some to bolster or to supplement earlier points; others to raise new points or to change direction. The latter tends to disrupt, taking the writer to another place, often times altering the initial direction entirely, circumventing the original plan.

Even with occasional deviance from an outline, a poor first draft remains the better option to a blank page, because at least the writer has begun the writing process. The writer may adjust the original outline easily to meet the first draft, and add more flesh to the skeleton. Accordingly, I still prefer to start with an outline, however scanty, but remain open to new ideas and varied direction so as not to become enslaved by it.

Ernest Hemingway said it best: “The only kind of writing is rewriting,” So true, but that also is easier said than done. When words are dispersed across a page, they become embedded in the landscape and the writer undergoes pain to delete or to move them. Many times, starting anew may shorten the time instead of editing a poorly written first draft. To be sure, the first draft rarely is right; and frequently, ends up in the dust bin.

Writing is hard, and often stressful, particularly when a deadline approaches, the right word escapes, or grammatical structure collapses. Good writing is never accidental, but remains a deliberate process to place words one by one into a compelling sentence, one sentence at a time.

On April 5, 2016, the Personal Journal Section D of the Wall Street Journal carried a featured article entitled: “The Power of Handwriting,” which caught my attention. I grew up in an era when handwriting ruled, before the computer age, and well before the prominence of laptops, iPads, and smart phones. The article focused on student note taking research conducted by a host of prominent universities, including Princeton University, University of California at Los Angeles, University of Nebraska, Harvard University and Washington University (St Louis), all schools of distinction. My immediate reaction: even the best universities need to study something, however pedestrian it may seem; but the article confirmed that “researchers have been studying note-taking strategies for almost a century.” Now this factoid caught my attention, and raised the subject to a serious plateau.

Not surprisingly, the study determined that students who had typed their notes wrote faster, at 33 words per minute, than students who had handwritten them, at only 22 words per minute. The surprising part, however, the pencil pushers outperformed the typing students. Hmmmm, perhaps after all, some old world ways may be superior to the cyber world in which we live.

The researchers collectively found that students who took longhand notes “appear to learn better, retain information longer, and more readily grasp new ideas. . .” Apparently, the brain is more stimulated by the handwriting effort, resulting in better retention than by going through a mechanical typing process. The typed notes were “so superficial,” because of the “tendency to take verbatim notes.” And further: “The [handwriting] process of taking them down encoded the information more deeply in memory.”

I commend the article. After all these years, I am gratified to know that by handwriting my lecture notes I had done something right in my youth. Alas, if only I could have read my handwriting, I may have done even better.