In my critique group recently, one
of my fellow writers described a character as wearing tennies. I’d never heard
the term, but it was clear he meant tennis shoes, or what I’d call sneakers. It
got me thinking about language regionalisms and how writers use them.
Regionalisms can add specificity and authenticity to a setting. I grew up in Massachusetts drinking from a bubbler, eating grinders, and staying out of trouble on Cabbage Night. I referred to every kind of soda as “tonic,” which I now use solely to refer to the mixer I use with my gin. I buy that hard liquor at a liquor store these days but in Boston I got it from a packie. When I eventually moved to the South, I started cutting off rather than turning off lights and learned that ugly people are rude, not necessarily physically unattractive. Those kinds of details can help immerse readers in the world of a story.
But regionalisms won’t evoke a
setting if the reader doesn’t know their significance. In Boston I would often stop
at my neighborhood spa—not for a facial or massage but for bread or milk. Unless
a reader knows that particularly Bostonian word for a corner store, they would
be confused. When I moved to New York City, I stopped standing in line and
started standing on line. I bet many readers would assume that was a typo
rather than a regionalism, unless they’re from the New York area too.
The internet is full of dialect
quizzes that will determine where you’re from by the way you speak. Do you say firefly
or lightning bug? shopping cart or buggy? lollipop or sucker? I’ve always found
them pretty accurate, which just goes to show how integral language is to place,
and, by extension, scene setting. Writing is all about language, and
regionalisms can be a powerful tool. But if you find yourself heading down a
path of linguistic cliché, you’re going to have to, as they say where I come
from, bang a uey.
Do you use regionalisms in your
own speech? Do you use them in your writing?
I grew up in Northern CA, but I moved to Southern CA to go to college at age 20 and never left. I hadn't realized that I'd pick up referring to the freeways with "the" in front of them, or that it wasn't a universal thing until someone commented on it. Do I still do it? All the time. But I think about it now and how funny it is the rest of the world doesn't do that. This is a Southern CA thing; my family in Northern CA does do it.
ReplyDelete(Not sure what I'm talking about? I'll tell you after I take the 14 to the 5 to the 405 to hit the beach in Santa Monica this weekend. For other parts of the country, I'd be taking Highway 14 to Interstate 5 to the 405 Freeway. See, it's just simpler.)
I've lived & worked in a few different places, and have heard the regionalisms and accents.
ReplyDeleteMost noticeable are when I talk to my relatives who still live on "Long Giland" or in "New Joisy." I have lots of friends who live in "Bawlmer" or other parts of "Merlin." Or "the District."
Of course, I have no discernable accent at all.
I once sat at a bar next to a language expert who proceeded to entertain me by accurately telling me based on our conversation not only where I grew up but also places I had lived along the way. [Grew up in Upstate NY, two years in the mountains of SW Virginia in 2nd and 3rd grade, worked in Northern Jersey for 5 years, Boston area for 2 years, and at the time was living in Northern Westchester County (50 miles north of NYC).]
ReplyDeleteI use regionalisms in my novels. When they are somewhat obsure, I usually have someone misunderstand or need an explanation so the reader knows what's going on.
Love it, Mary. You know you are a true Texan when you tell a group of people, "Let's get all of y'all together and go."
ReplyDelete