2 MIN READ

Why Is ‘Z’ the Last Letter in the Alphabet?

The letter “Z” has roots in the Greek letter “zeta,” the sixth letter of that alphabet. What happened to put “Z” at the tail end of our alphabet?

by Stewart Edelstein
Close-up of the alphabet letter Z

There are many ways to organize a list of terms. You could arrange them from shortest to longest, or vice versa. You could also list the terms alphabetically (the adjective for that is “abecedarian”), or you could arrange them in order of frequency. If the letters of the alphabet were arranged in order from most frequently used to least frequently used in the English language, it would look like this:   ETAOINSRHDLCUMFPGWYBVKXJQZ

But that’s not why “Z” comes in last place in the alphabet. The real explanation is historical, based on the relative superfluousness of the letter.

“Z” originated as the Phoenician “zayin,” the seventh letter of that alphabet, pronounced like our “Z.” It was initially depicted as an arrow, then reduced to three lines, similar to our “Z.” It was a glyph (a symbolic depiction) for a weapon or for two armies confronting each other, represented by two parallel lines. 

In the Greek alphabet, “zayin” became “zeta,” the sixth letter. When Latin borrowed “zeta” from Greek, it was listed in the alphabet in the same place as in Greek. 

 Then around 300 BCE, “zeta” was removed from the Latin alphabet under the Roman Censor Appius Claudius Caecus. Through the linguistic process of rhotacism, the “Z” sound had morphed to sound like an “R,” already represented by the letter “rho,” rendering “zeta” superfluous.

But around 200 years later, “Z” was reintroduced to the Latin alphabet in loanwords from Greek. By then, though, the position of “Z” in the alphabet had been taken by “G,” and “Z” was tacked on at the end.

Even though “Z” was once deemed superfluous, it would be catastrophic if it disappeared from our alphabet today. You couldn’t apologize, criticize, fantasize, incentivize, optimize, organize, prioritize, sympathize, or theorize. Do you realize or even recognize the problem? 

No zucchini, pizza, mozzarella, zest, zeal, zones, zippers, quizzes, sizzle, razzle-dazzle, or ZIP codes. No zero, which would create numerical havoc. Zowie!

Even some country names would disappear from the map: No Azerbaijan, Belize, Brazil, Czech Republic, Mozambique, New Zealand, Switzerland, Venezuela, or Zambia, not to mention Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan. And what about Zanzibar, part of Tanzania?  

As you see, we need “Z,” even though it was once evicted from the alphabet.

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2 MIN READ

What Is the Origin of ‘It Takes the Cake’?

This idiom has a surprisingly literal past — and an ironic twist that lets tone do all the work.

by Stewart Edelstein
Slices of cake on table with sprinkles

“Well, that takes the cake!” This statement, said with different intonations in two different contexts, can be interpreted as either high praise or derision. How can the exact same words convey such disparate meanings with only a shift in tone? 

“It takes the cake” can mean something is ranked first — or something is foolish or annoying. Let’s take a look at how this idiom has been used over the decades.

The earliest recorded use is from 1839, when a Lexington, Mississippi, newspaper alluded to cakes being offered as prizes at a fair: “We have been shown some [cotton bolls] that we thought hard to beat, yet this takes the cakes.”

That usage seems to be literal, but less than a decade later, the phrase was being used metaphorically, still referencing a prize. In 1846, an account of a horse race reported, “The winning horse take [sic] the cakes.”

The wording “takes the cake” expanded in meaning over the next few decades to refer to skill, not just winning prizes. This usage is seen in an 1886 article in the Pall Mall Gazette, a London-based newspaper: “As a purveyor of light literature, Mr. Norris takes the cake.”

As early as 1900, however, “takes the cake” acquired negative connotations. Read these next examples with a derisive tone, as opposed to the complimentary examples above. In Sister Carrie, published in 1900, Theodore Dreiser wrote: “Pack up and pull out, eh? You take the cake.” And in her 1938 book A Blunt Instrument, British author Georgette Heyer wrote: “I’ve met some kill-joys in my time, but you fairly take the cake.” This shift evolved out of the positive prize-winning, skillful sense being used ironically in negative contexts. 

As you see, “takes the cake” can refer either to something remarkably excellent, or to something outstandingly negative. Either way, it’s something extraordinary.

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2 MIN READ

When Should You Use ‘Disinterested’ vs. ‘Uninterested’?

Despite their similarities, these words are not synonyms. Discover why you might be using “disinterested” incorrectly.

by Rachel Gresh
business team showing signs of boredom and fatigue

For 25 years, Judge Judy reigned as TV’s most famous courtroom reality star, presiding over small-claims cases with a hardball approach to her sentencing. Like any good arbitrator, Judge Judy was never uninterested, but she did remain disinterested. The courtroom context highlights the differences between these seemingly similar words. “Uninterested” means “not interested” — something Judge Judy certainly was not. However, “disinterested” means “unbiased,” which is a key characteristic of her success. Although these two terms are often used interchangeably, they have distinct meanings and should be used appropriately.

While “uninterested” conveys the commonly used meaning of “not interested” or “not having the mind or feelings engaged,”  “disinterested” is a bit more nuanced. It means “free from selfish motive or interest,” as in, “A disinterested third-party must stand as a witness.” Here, the prefix “dis-” means “apart from” or “away from.” However, “dis-” can sometimes mean “the opposite of,” as in “dislike.” This alternate usage could be why “disinterested” is often misused to mean “not interested.”

These terms have been intertwined since they entered English in the 17th century. Back then, “disinterested” meant “not interested,” and “uninterested” meant “unbiased” — the reverse of their modern meanings. Why the switch? The French word desinteresse, meaning “impartial,” was first translated into English as “uninterested.” Shortly after, “disinterested” came into use with the meaning of “not concerned.” By the late 18th century, their meanings had swapped, as the prefix “un-” became a common way to express the opposite of something, and “disinterested” aligned more closely with the original French spelling and sense of neutrality.

Here’s a mnemonic to help you remember the difference: “Disinterested” adds an “i” in the prefix, like the “i” in “impartial,” so a disinterested person is impartial, while an uninterested person just doesn’t care. 

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3 MIN READ

What Is the Origin of ‘Silver Bullet’?

The magical powers of the silver bullet are found in supernatural tales of werewolves, but the idiom extends to common usage as well. Where did this metaphor come from?

by Stewart Edelstein

In werewolf myths, silver is one method to kill the powerful creatures, so a silver bullet is sometimes the hero’s weapon of choice. When “silver bullet” is used in everyday English, however, it is usually in the negative sense: “There is no silver bullet for …” You can complete that sentence with any seemingly intractable, complex problem.

How did a silver bullet earn a reputation as an all-powerful weapon? There’s a long tradition in folklore and literature. 

The ancient Greeks believed that silver was a gift from the moon goddess, Selene, and that it had mystical powers. In Norse mythology, silver was believed to have protective properties, useful for warding off evil spirits. And in medieval European folklore, silver was imbued with magic used to repel werewolves and other supernatural creatures.

Silver’s reputation of mystical powers has endured through the centuries. In 1804, American poet Thomas Green Fessenden wrote about killing a witch: “how a man, one dismal night, / Shot her with a silver bullet.”

In the Grimm brothers’ 1812 fairy tale “The Two Brothers,” a huntsman shoots a witch with a lead bullet, but it has no effect. Then, the story continues, he “knew what to do, tore three silver buttons off his coat, and loaded his gun with them, for against them her arts were useless, and when he fired she fell down at once with a scream.”

A few decades later, in 1858, French writer Élie Berthet authored a novel based on the true story of the Beast of Gévaudan, a wolf that killed about 80 people in south-central France. In the real occurrence, a local hunter killed the beast using lead bullets, but in the novel, the facts were embellished by the use of silver bullets.

More recently, starting in 1949, the TV series The Lone Ranger featured a masked lawman who left a silver bullet for grateful law-abiding frontier folks before moving on to capture more desperadoes. Although the Lone Ranger used lead bullets to injure the bad guys, he named his horse “Silver.”

All these myths tell great tales, but they aren’t any more realistic than a metaphorical bullet solving a difficult problem. There is no such thing as a silver bullet — because of its low density and high melting point, silver is impractical for making bullets and far more expensive than lead. 

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3 MIN READ

What Was the First ‘Elephant in the Room’?

You’ve likely used this metaphor for the obvious thing no one wants to talk about, but do you know where the original elephant came from?

by Stewart Edelstein
Isolated elephant toy

We each know of a topic we would rather not discuss — perhaps because it’s too sensitive, controversial, or emotionally charged. No one wants to cause embarrassment, sadness, or avoidable arguments. This topic that people dance around in conversation or outright ignore is called “the elephant in the room.” The idiom is widely used to mean “an obvious major problem or issue that people avoid discussing or acknowledging.”

If you break apart the metaphor, it makes sense — there’s a looming presence, but rather than deal with the elephant, everyone simply pretends it doesn’t exist. 

The elephant in question can be traced to a short story published in 1814 by Ivan Krylov, a Russian writer. “The Inquisitive Man” is an ironically titled fable about a man touring a museum who notices tiny things, such as beetles, but fails to notice an elephant in the room.

Fyodor Dostoevsky alluded to Krylov’s museum-going character in his 1871 novel, Demons: “Belinsky was just like Krylov’s Inquisitive Man, who didn’t notice the elephant in the museum.”

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In 1882, Mark Twain further popularized the idiom in his short story “The Stolen White Elephant.” He wrote about the inept, far-ranging antics of detectives trying to find an elephant that was right before them. 

The elephantine metaphor evolved into its modern usage of avoiding difficult and obvious conversations as it spread through the public lexicon in the 20th century. In 1902, The New York Times published an article about a scandal involving vote-buying and corruption allegations surrounding NYC Police Chief Thomas J. Devery and the political organization Tammany Hall, in which the journalist used “elephant in the room” metaphorically to describe the way that scandal was being ignored by the media. In the 1950s, many journalists used “elephant in the room” to depict reluctance to discuss racism in America, even though it was a major societal problem. Sometimes the phrase is used to suggest big topics that can’t be ignored. In 1959, The New York Times used it in reference to school financing: “Financing schools has become a problem about equal to having an elephant in the living room. It’s so big you just can’t ignore it.”

The metaphor is now so widely known that it can be recognized visually. The New Yorker’s cover on November 17, 2014 (immediately after Republicans gained control of the Senate), featured a very large elephant on the couch in the Oval Office, with a glum President Obama at the Resolute Desk.  

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2 MIN READ

Are You Using ‘Begs the Question’ Wrong?

“Begs the question” is a common phrase to introduce a follow-up question, but it’s technically incorrect. The mix-up is the result of a translation rooted in philosophy.

by Rachel Gresh
Several question marks

“Begs the question” doesn’t always mean what you think it does. It’s often used as a synonym for “raises the question,” but by formal standards, that’s not quite right. Consider this example: “Another major department store is closing its doors. This begs the question: Are shopping malls going extinct?” As you can see, the phrase often introduces a follow-up question, or, as Merriam-Webster puts it, it “elicits a question logically as a reaction or response.” However, this modern usage isn’t historically accurate.

The phrase dates back to Aristotle’s principles of formal logic. It comes from the Latin petitio principii, meaning “assuming the original point.” “Begging the question” is the fallacy of assuming the conclusion is within your premises. In simpler terms, it’s when your argument already assumes the very thing it’s trying to prove. This results in a logically flawed circular argument.

In the context of this philosophical argument, petitio principii was translated into English as “begging the question” during the 16th century, originally meaning “to pass over or ignore a question by assuming it to be established or settled.” It uses an archaic definition of “beg,” meaning “to take for granted the matter in dispute” or “to assume without proof.” 

A more precise modern translation of petitio principii might be “assuming the original conclusion.” For example, “Wool sweaters are better than cotton sweaters because they contain more wool” begs the question, since it assumes what is already established (wool is better than cotton). A correct philosophical usage of “begs the question” would be: “The car commercial begs the question when it says the brand is superior because it sold more cars last year.”

You can now see why those who favor the philosophical version dislike the modern usage — the two are very different. However, in informal situations, using “begs the question” to mean something like “raises the question” is widely understood, and dictionaries  recognize it as valid. Nevertheless, this usage should be avoided in formal writing.

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3 MIN READ

What Is the Origin of ‘The Whole Shebang’?

When you ask for “the whole shebang,” do you know what a shebang is? Now it’s a nonsense word, but it used to carry a few different meanings.

by Stewart Edelstein
wooden shed in forest

What’s a shebang, is there such a thing as part of a shebang, and what’s the origin of the idiom “the whole shebang”?  

These are important questions, and we find some answers in the earliest usage of the word. Merriam-Webster says it appeared in English during the Civil War, as seen in Walt Whitman’s diary entries. He used “shebang” to refer to a type of crude dwelling: Soldiers were living in “shebang enclosures of bushes” and coming “out from their tents or shebangs of bushes.”

A few years later, Mark Twain used “chebang” (an alternate spelling) to refer to any matter of concern. “I like the book, I like you and your style and your business vim, and believe the chebang will be a success,” he wrote in a letter to his publishers in 1869. To complicate matters, in 1872, Twain used “shebang” in reference to a vehicle in his novel The Innocents at Home: “You’re welcome to ride here as long as you please, but this shebang’s chartered.”  

The meaning of “shebang” as it relates to a structure was expanded in 1878 in Hallock’s American Club List & Sportsman’s Glossary: “Shebang, any sort of structure from a shanty to a hotel.” And in 1901, Canadian novelist H. G. Parker authored a book about a heavy-drinking Montreal lawyer, in which he wrote, “There were people who called the tavern a ‘shebang.’”

None of these writers coined the term — they were using it because it was already in the wider lexicon. So where did “shebang” come from? Both Merriam-Webster and the Oxford English Dictionary point out its obscure origin, but that obscurity hasn’t stopped etymologists from speculating.

There are a few possibilities:

  • Irish, seibin, “a small mug,” which in English became “shabeen, shebeen,” meaning an illegal drinking establishment 
  • Irish, síbín, meaning “illicit whiskey”
  • French, chabane, meaning “hut”
  • French, char-á-banc, meaning “a carriage or coach with benches”

Each of these options can address some 19th-century usage of “shebang,” but what about the idiom “the whole shebang”? “The whole shebang” is recorded from 1869, but how it relates to huts, structures, hotels, taverns, or vehicles is unclear. The saying is used to mean “everything that is included in something.” The fact is that some idioms have unknown origins. It may simply be that “shebang” came to refer to so many disparate things that it now refers to the whole of just about anything — the whole shebang.

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5 MIN READ

From Advent to Yule: Origins of 7 Classic Christmas Words

Christmas is steeped in legend and lore, and the etymology of the words associated with it is as interesting as the holiday itself.

by Jennifer A. Freeman
Close-up of an elf on a Christmas tree

The holidays are here, which means it’s time to count down the days on an Advent calendar and light the Yule log. We spend a lot of time throughout the year thinking about where words come from and why we say the things we say, and Christmastime is no different. “Santa Claus” and “Christmas” are obvious entries on the vocabulary list, but how did “poinsettia” and fruitcake” end up as such important parts of the holiday? We’ve done some research to explain the origin of some classic Christmas terms and help you spread a little more holiday cheer and knowledge.

Advent

Waiting can be the hardest yet most exciting part of the holidays. The term for the season leading up to Christmas comes from the Latin word adventus, which means “a coming, approach, or arrival.” In relation to the Christian holiday of Christmas, it refers to “the coming of the savior,” but in the 1700s, the word took on an additional secular meaning. When it’s not used as a proper noun to refer to “the period beginning four Sundays before Christmas,” “advent” can refer to any noteworthy arrival.

Christmas

While the official holiday lands on December 25, people often use the term to refer to the general season of festivities in December. The word “Christmas” is a combination of the phrase “Christ’s mass.” Jesus is often  referred to as Christ, the Greek word for the Hebrew term “Messiah,” which means “anointed one.” In Middle English, “Christenmas” or “Christian mass” also would have been used. “Christmas” is often abbreviated as “Xmas,” which traces back to “X” as an ancient symbol for Christ, stemming from the Greek letter chi being written as X.   

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Santa Claus

The big guy in the red suit goes by many names — St. Nick, Kris Kringle, or Father Christmas — but the most famous name in America is Santa Claus. The legend of Santa Claus is based on a Christian figure named St. Nicholas. In the Netherlands, St. Nicholas is known as Sinterklaas — he wears a red garment, has a book that tells him which little girls and boys were good and bad during the year, and brings oranges for the good children. (He’s also tall and gaunt, rides a horse, and kidnaps the bad children, but some elements of the story don’t translate.) 

The story of Sinterklaas was brought to America by 17th-century Dutch immigrants and eventually Americanized, turning him into Santa Claus — a jolly, fat, bearded man who wears a red suit, drives a sleigh pulled by reindeer, and brings presents to children on Christmas. The myth (and name) of Santa Claus was solidified in the 20th century thanks to modern marketing, such as Coca-Cola’s iconic 1931 advertising campaign featuring a red-cheeked, cheery Santa.

Wassail

“Here we come a-wassailing among the leaves so green … Love and joy come to you, And to you your wassail too …” The lyrics of this classic Christmas carol might not make much sense to modern singers, but back in the day, “wassail” referred to a spiced alcoholic beverage enjoyed during Christmas celebrations. The term comes from the 12th-century Old Norse phrase ves heill, which translates to “be in good health.” The practice of going door-to-door wassailing (caroling and having a good time) began around the 1700s.

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Poinsettia

This beautiful red-leafed floral got its name from the U.S. ambassador to Mexico in the 1830s. Joel Roberts Poinsett was also a botanist who started shipping these scarlet florals back to his home in South Carolina. Another botanist friend exported the flowers to Europe and named them “Euphorbia Poinsettia” in honor of the ambassador. Due to Poinsett’s problematic history, some have advocated for calling the plant by alternative names. The Nahuatl name for the plant is cuetlaxóchitl, meaning “a flower that withers.” Seventeenth-century Franciscan friars named it “flor de Nochebuena,” or “holy night flower,” because of when it flowers.  If you want to bring one into your home at Christmastime, keep them away from any pets, as the sap in the leaves and stems is toxic to your cats and dogs. 

Elf

The name for Santa’s helpers comes from the Old English word ælf. Similar terms in Old Norse and Germanic languages translate to “evil spirit” — originally, elves were thought of as magical tricksters. Christmas elves, which became popularized in stories from the late 1800s, are much handier to have around when it’s time for Santa to make presents.

Yule

In Old Norse mythology, Jól is a pre-Christian feast involving the god Odin. Vikings would celebrate Jól as a three-day pagan festival, beginning on the solstice in mid-to-late December.  Later, the term was adopted by Christians to refer to a 12-day period after Christmas as an effort to assimilate pagan holidays into Christianity. 

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2 MIN READ

Can You End a Sentence With a Hyphenated Word?

A sentence that ends with a hyphenated word can come across like a story missing its last line. But there are easy ways to avoid this grammar gaffe.

by Rachel Gresh
Hand holding punctuation mark hyphen

Some English grammar rules are lesser known but still essential for polished writing. Avoiding hyphenated words at the end of a sentence is one of them. Most hyphenated words are modifiers, meaning they describe the noun that follows. For example, “They bought a single-family home” uses the hyphenated compound modifier “single-family” to describe the type of home. In English, modifiers (also known as adjectives) almost always appear before the noun.

Now rearrange that example: “The home they bought was single-family.” Native English speakers instinctively expect a noun to follow the modifier. Even though nothing is technically missing, it still reads as though a final word has been left out. That’s why ending a sentence with a compound modifier should be avoided.

Some terms exist in two forms, such as “fairy tale” and “fairy-tale.” The former is a noun referring to a story, while the latter is an adjective that modifies a noun. “It was a fairy-tale romance” is more natural than “The romance was fairy-tale.” The hyphenated form signals that another word should follow. However, saying, “Before she went to bed, Sally read a fairy tale,” is correct, because the final term is a noun and doesn’t require a hyphen. It can end the sentence naturally.

If a hyphenated word forms a compound noun rather than a modifier, it also can close a sentence without issue. For instance, “I called my mother-in-law” or “I met the governor-elect” are perfectly fine, despite ending with a hyphenated word. These are nouns, not compound modifiers that require an additional noun. In most cases, the part of speech is the key to correct placement, but when in doubt about these guidelines, rephrase the sentence to avoid a hyphenated ending.

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5 MIN READ

Bad Writing Habits Our Editors Can’t Break

Old habits die hard, whether you’re looking to change up your diet or stop biting your nails. The same applies to becoming a better writer, and our editorial team knows how challenging it can be to avoid falling back on the same old trite writing techniques.

by Bennett Kleinman
Woman Typing on Wireless Keyboard While Working at Desk

It’s coming up on a new year, which means it’s time to make a slew of resolutions that may be far in the rearview mirror by February. But as a writer who’s always looking to improve, I can say that one resolution worth keeping is trying to become a better communicator. This holds true whether you’re a professional or merely tapping out casual emails and texts.

My colleagues are among the most talented writers and editors I’ve ever had the pleasure of collaborating with, but we’re all still prone to falling back on some bad writing habits. Here’s a look at some areas that members of our editorial staff identified as opportunities for improvement in the coming year.

Alliteration and Rhetorical Questions

Word Smarts and Word Daily editor Jennifer Freeman proudly says, “I can’t get enough of alliteration,” and I tend to agree. Alliteration is “the repetition usually initially of a sound that is usually a consonant in two or more neighboring words or syllables (such as wild and woolly or threatening throngs).” But as everyone knows, you can have too much of a good thing. Sometimes other editors on the team recommend removing an example or two, because as great as alliteration may be, it can have negative effects, such as adding a lighthearted tone when discussing serious topics. Alliteration may also draw too much attention to the writing, which in turn distracts from the topic at hand. It may be more appropriate in poetry or creative writing than in investigative reporting, for example.

Jennifer also admits to leaning on rhetorical questions “way too much” (her words, not mine). How is that a problem? Overusing rhetorical questions can backfire by creating an air of uncertainty, which could undermine an author’s credibility.

Using “Also” All the Time

Brooke Robinson, editor of Interesting Facts and Inspiring Quotes, acknowledges that she overuses the word “also,” particularly at the start of sentences — so much so that she says, “I’ve started to drive myself nuts with it.” “Also” can be a useful adverb in a sentence, but in some cases, it’s just a filler word, akin to the term “um.” If it’s adding an unnecessary pause without adding meaning, cut out the “also” to make your writing more streamlined.

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“Actually” and Other “Needless Words”

Associate editor Sarah Kearns admits to using “actually” way too often, and she’s not alone. Author and copy editor Benjamin Dreyer wrote about “actually” and other “needless” words in the first chapter of his book Dreyer’s English. Words such as “actually,” “quite,” and “very” are just a few examples of pointless words that add clutter. Dreyer challenged his readers to “go a week without writing” any of these words. Give it a try, and you might notice a vast improvement in your writing.

Generic Descriptors

As the editor of the travel site Daily Passport, Peter Vanden Bos notes how “it’s easy to fall back on words like ‘scenic,’ ‘stunning,’ ‘awe-inspiring,’ or ‘unique’ to describe a destination.” But those are generic terms you’d find on any travel website, so Peter tries “to use more specific descriptors when possible.” Even if you’re writing an Instagram caption of vacation photos, challenge yourself to think of more creative and specific adjectives. 

Unnecessary Transitions

Meg Neal, the editor of History Facts, says she overuses unnecessary transitions such as “in fact” or “indeed.” If you’re writing a fact-based piece, your words should be treated as fact, so adding transitions such as “in fact” is redundant.

Senior managing editor Allie Takeda agrees with Meg’s take on unnecessary transitions, stating that she also leans heavily on words and phrases such as “however,” “for example,” and “additionally.” Removing these transitory words and phrases when they’re not needed can do wonders in helping to reduce clutter and make writing more concise.

Overusing the Same Phrases 

House Outlook editor Kelsey Morrison admits she tends to overuse a couple of phrases when giving multiple examples of something. She refers to one as the “think” setup: “Dishwashers are said to be a surprisingly effective mechanism for cooking salmon and other types of fish that benefit from low heat and plenty of moisture — think trout, cod, haddock, halibut, and mahi-mahi.” Kelsey also fesses up to using the phrase “just to name a few” too often at the end of lists. If you think you repeat the same phrases as well, try to shake things up by busting out the thesaurus and trying some synonyms.

Do you find yourself using the same words and phrases time and time again, or relying on bad habits that inhibit your writing? Send in your examples and we may include them in a future article.

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