Reader Friday: Word Games

Do you know what my favorite part of the game is? The opportunity to play. —Mike Singletary

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There seems to be some evidence that playing word games is good for your brain. Some people say it’s like a workout for your little gray cells. According to Dr. Oriana Cornett of St. Joseph’s Health

Incorporating puzzles and word games into your daily routine can be a game-changer for your brain health. These activities are more than just entertaining; they’re tools for maintaining and enhancing cognitive function and boosting mental acuity in a variety of ways.

Some of the areas of benefit she lists are

  • Improved Problem-Solving Skills
  • Language and Vocabulary Growth
  • Mental Agility

That’s great news for readers and writers (and for everybody else.) But whether word games improve brain function or not, they’re fun to play. Some I like are

  • Crossword puzzles
  • Wordle
  • Spelling Bee
  • Scrabble

I also have a few apps on my phone that are fun to play whenever I take a minute or two to relax. These include

  • 7 Little Words
  • Elevate
  • Wordbrain

 

So TKZers: Do you play word games? Do you think word games are good for brain health? What are some of your favorites?

 

Reader Friday-The Weirdness of Words

This is a post about weird.

I know, I know, there’s enough weird going around these days . . . but this weird is quite fun. Yeah, you guessed it–it’s about words, our favorite pastime here at TKZ. Specifically, about where words come from. (And I’m not talking cave walls…)

And with a nod to Garry’s fun post from yesterday, there are no Swedish words here. 🙂

I ran across this website that might just tickle your where-did-that-word-come-from fancy.

Weird Word Origins

I’m going to give you, voila!, three words whose origins are definitely over-the-top funny and unique. Here we go:

Just call me Wally…

WALRUS–The walrus is an undeniably funny-looking animal. It’s got a droopy, hangdog kind of face, grumpy-old-man whiskers, and two ludicrous-looking tusks. (No offense to any walruses who may be reading this.)

So, it seems fitting that walrus also has a funny origin story: it may literally mean “whale-horse.” Well, maybe.

Anyway, even if it’s not strictly true, the story goes that walrus comes from Dutch. Walvis means “whale” and ros means “horse.” Put it together and a walrus is a “whale-horse.” Which, if you look at this absurd animal, seems like a fitting name for it.

That wasn’t me!

 

FIZZLE–to make a hissing or sputtering sound, especially one that dies out weakly.” You know what the word originally meant? “To pass gas,” probably in that manner where you’re trying to stifle it. (Don’t pretend you don’t know what we mean.)

 

 

And, last but not least . . .

Look like anyone you know?

BONKERSBonkers is a funny-sounding word. It’s a humorous, softer, informal way to say “crazy” or “nuts.” Its origins aren’t clear, but bonkers is first recorded as British naval slang for “a bit drunk” in the 1940s—perhaps acting as if someone has bonked, or hit, them on the head.

So, TKZers, go ahead and find your own weird word origins, and maybe share them with us to make us snort in our cuppas!

 

Reader Friday-Speaking of Words…

Since we all love to play with words . . . let’s dazzle each other, okay?

Remember writing on your hands in school? Oh, you still do . . . (Image courtesy of Pixabay)

Think of words and phrases from the past which have a totally new/different meaning in the present.

For instance, the word stream. Something we used to fish from–now we watch or listen to.

Or, text. Or, post. Get it?

Now it’s your turn . . . and, Go!

 

What Spelling Bee Taught Me About Writing

“Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.” –John Muir

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If you haven’t played the NY Times Spelling Bee game, here’s a brief intro:

The game involves making words out of seven letters. I suppose one reason I’m attracted to it is how the game is presented: Each of the seven letters is inside a hexagon-shaped cell. Six of the cells surround a central one, and it all looks like a honeycomb. Clever, eh?

The idea is to make words (at least four letters in length) using the letters. You can use a letter more than once, but you must use the center letter in every word you make. For example, the word “TAUNT” wouldn’t work in the example above because it doesn’t contain the letter G. “GAUNT” would be a good word.

You get one point for a four-letter word. If the word is longer than four letters, you get a point for each letter in the word. If you use all seven letters in a word, you get the number of points for the word plus another seven. It’s called a pangram. In the example above “UNTAGGED” would be a pangram.

As you rack up points, you move up a scale from Beginner to Genius. If you get to the Genius stage, a screen pops up telling you how wonderful you are. If you continue and get every possible word, you achieve Queen Bee status. (Very hard to do without using hints.)

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My husband and I play this game almost every day while we eat lunch. We figure it takes both our brains to get to Genius. In our experience, we usually move up the scale and get one step short of Genius, but getting that last step is hard. Sometimes we make it and other times we don’t. So why am I telling you all this? What does it have to do with writing?

It’s because of a “boys in the basement” pattern that’s developed.

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If we haven’t reached Genius by the time I finish lunch, I’m ready to move on. I may stay around for a few minutes, but I have other things to do. (My husband, on the other hand, will diligently stare at the letters for much longer, and he sometimes gets us to that last step by himself.)

I leave the table and either clean up a little in the kitchen or retire to my office to invent some new disaster to throw at the characters in my WIP. However, in either case, I’ve put the word game out of my mind, and I’m thinking of the next thing on the schedule.

Lately, I’ve noticed a phenomenon that occurs frequently during these “moving on” sessions: As I’m dealing with another item on my to-do list, a word will pop into my mind. It’s not something I was thinking about or trying to come up with. It just appears.

For example, a while back I had stopped working on the puzzle and was putting dishes in the dishwasher when the word “EJECTABLE” popped into my mind. Now that’s not a word I think of very often. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember ever having heard of it before. I wasn’t even sure it was an actual word. I turned to my husband. “Does ‘ejectable’ work in the puzzle?”

Yep. And it was a pangram.

* * *

The process seems to be that I stare at the letters, make words, and keep trying until I’m convinced I’ve made all the words I can possibly make. I walk away, my brain relaxes, and those little neuron pathways that were blocked by my mental overexertion clear up. Then a word slips through and presents itself in tiny little neon letters.

I’ve noticed the same thing happens when I work on a tough crossword puzzle. I’ll get stuck on a clue and can’t find a solution, so I put the puzzle aside. When I return to it the next day, I immediately think of the word I was looking for. If that had happened once or twice, I wouldn’t be mentioning it now. But it happens often enough that I’m wondering how to consistently apply this to writing.

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Is the same process possible as we pound away at developing our stories? Like so many cells in a honeycomb, the answer we’re looking for may be there, but we can’t seem to dig it out. We have to let it come to us.

So TKZers: Do you play word games? What are your favorites? Have you had a similar experience of ideas popping up only after you start another project? Do you deliberately try to use a shift in focus to get those boys in the basement into the game?