Do you ever feel at a loss for words?
Occasionally I struggle to find the words to convey my meaning. I think I have a decent vocabulary, but I only speak one language–the one you’re reading right here. My lovely friend in Holland speaks five, and she taught me a word I want to share with you.
Schanigarten, as I understand, refers to outdoor tables set up around Viennese coffeehouses. She asked me for an English equivalent.
“Uh…. picnic area?”
It lacks romance, I know.
But not only that. “Picnic area” doesn’t render the right meaning, really. It more aptly describes wooden tables with benches in a public park. I probably should have suggested “patio,” but that word strips the distinction of the Viennese coffeehouse setting.
Only Schanigarten would do.
Language limits, but meaning matters.
There are times, lots of them, when my “decent vocabulary” falls short. Finding the right word is one of the basic joys of writing, and learning to do so is part of the craft. Nonetheless, lately I’ve been stuck, frustrated with flabby prose that fails to convey what’s in my heart to write.
I write Christian fiction, which is meant to entertain and to edify. A failure of meaning is, well, kind of a big deal. There are times when the good-enough word really is good enough, but even knowing that perfectionism is a mirage and a killjoy, it often feels like defeat to settle. Sometimes I relate all too well to The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock–“It is impossible to say just what I mean!”
Produce a distinction in the tones
Impossible or not, it matters. Consider where Paul wrote:
Yet even lifeless things, either flute or harp, in producing a sound, if they do not produce a distinction in the tones, how will it be known what is played on the flute or on the harp? For if the bugle produces an indistinct sound, who will prepare himself for battle? So also you, unless you utter by the tongue speech that is clear, how will it be known what is spoken? For you will be speaking into the air. There are, perhaps, a great many kinds of languages in the world, and no kind is without meaning. If then I do not know the meaning of the language, I will be to the one who speaks a barbarian, and the one who speaks will be a barbarian to me. So also you, since you are zealous of spiritual gifts, seek to abound for the edification of the church. -1 Corinthians 14:7-12 (NASB)
Applying this to my work, suddenly using my one language grows larger than mere matters of communication and art. Exercising precision and clarity to the best of my ability becomes part of fulfilling God’s purpose for my life.
So for now, I’m relearning the patience and faith required to employ a temporary wrong word, flag it with an asterisk, and move on until that right word comes. It’s not a defeat, but rather a flanking maneuver against perfectionism. It’s a promise to return with the right word, to find the shades of meaning that color the picture in my head, even as I’m praying that you will see, too.
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