Welcome back. I'm proud to say I recently completed writing a novel that I've been working on since 2002: Redemption, a story of love lost and found in the dark days after September 11th. I entered it in The Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award competition. (First prize is a publishing deal. They announce the winners on June 13.) And this about my employment situation: I loved being a writer for Clark Consulting, but my last day there is February 1st. They're closing the company down. I would be most appreciative if you would send me work opportunities: possible freelance, contracts, or full-time employment. My specialties: B2B writing, corporate communications, web writing, thought leadership and media relations.
--Chuck Lustig, creative director, ExcitingWriting Communications

English, the orienteering language


I devote this month's EWA to a familiar refrain: Do the frustrations of writing English turn you into a fussbudget? (A beloved word) You are blameless. Our language is the culprit. English is an artful monument to complexity and ambiguity, particularly the American version of English, which is in constant ferment, and influenced by everything from hip-hop to other languages. The next time you're on the number seven train from Flushing going into the city during rush hour, as I was last week, listen to the languages being spoken. It's a Tower of Kibbuzing.

My view: English is the ''orienteering'' language. If you haven't heard of orienteering, it's a competitive sport from Sweden that has contestants race cross-country over unknown terrain, finding ''checkpoints,'' using only a compass and topographical map.

My point: English, more than other languages that I know, requires that you use all your contextual decoding capabilities to make sense of it. A little like getting from point A to point B by just reading the topography, comparing it to a topographical map and using a compass.

A few surprising examples follow, homonyms (identically spelled words with completely different meanings) provided by Rene Teig with a little editing from me. He did not originate this material, and doesn't know who did. I find it instructive:

The bandage was wound around the wound.

The purpose of a farm: To produce produce.

The dump was full. Officials had to refuse additional refuse.

We must polish the Polish furniture.

He could lead if he would just get the lead out.

The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.

He thought it was the perfect time for him to present his present.

A sea bass was the school symbol painted on the bass drum.

When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.

I did not object to the object of the inquiry.

The insurance policy was ruled invalid for the poor, unfortunate invalid.

A row broke out among the oarsmen about how to row.

He stood too close to the door to close it.

A buck does strange things when does are present.

A seamstress and a sewer fell through an open manhole cover into the sewer.

To make planting easier, the farmer taught his sow to sow.

The wind was too strong to wind the sail.

I chose to subject the subject to a series of tests.

How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Our language contains more homonyms than I was aware. We orienteer our way through it, making sense of it based on the equivalent of a compass and a topographical map.

Next month: More about the word ''up.''