If you have ever read "Under the Never Sky" by Verionica Rossi, there is one character that is referred to this way: "....and he cursed". I read this at least 15 times for the same character. If I read it one more time I may curse! Needless to say,, I was glad that the author didn't put in curse words, probably because she would limit her audience, but couldn't she come up with something else besides..."...and he cursed". Other than that it was a great book, with great story (and I really actually liked the character that cursed a lot.)
In the Children's Writer, December 2012 Issue (I get it now because I entered two short stories!) I have enjoyed it and found this helpful:
By Veda Boyd JonesMy friend Brendan, a brand-new teacher, sat at my dinner table complaining that a novel for junior high readers was totally unrealistic.
“There’s no way a juvenile delinquent would talk like that. His language would be full of words like *!&**## and $^*&$* and %(^*#. (Substitutes are mine.) Your ears would turn blue if you heard the kids talk in our school hallways, and they’re not in trouble with the law.”
“That may be,” I said in the tone I reserve for talking to young friends I have known since their birth and who should not be cussing in front of me, “but the first reader of a novel is an editor and once it’s in print, the next readers are reviewers and librarians, and they are not going to buy a kids’ book full of profanity. And I won’t even address the role of irate school boards.”
“But it’s not right,” he said.
“It’s not accurate, but that’s where substitute fricatives come in.”
“Fricatives?”
“Phooey. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of fricatives? Shoot, they’re such wonderful words.”
“There’s no way a juvenile delinquent would talk like that. His language would be full of words like *!&**## and $^*&$* and %(^*#. (Substitutes are mine.) Your ears would turn blue if you heard the kids talk in our school hallways, and they’re not in trouble with the law.”
“That may be,” I said in the tone I reserve for talking to young friends I have known since their birth and who should not be cussing in front of me, “but the first reader of a novel is an editor and once it’s in print, the next readers are reviewers and librarians, and they are not going to buy a kids’ book full of profanity. And I won’t even address the role of irate school boards.”
“But it’s not right,” he said.
“It’s not accurate, but that’s where substitute fricatives come in.”
“Fricatives?”
“Phooey. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of fricatives? Shoot, they’re such wonderful words.”
What the Fricative?In the gentle way I have of talking to know-it-all whippersnappers the ages of my sons, I explained about aggressive consonant sounds (p, f, b, d, k, sh, etc.). When you say them, parts of the vocal apparatus (lips, tongue, teeth, and palate) block air and make you push it through a narrow gap to make the sound. Forcing the air out causes friction, thus the name fricative. Once you get one of those suckers out, you feel immensely better. Our best curse words contain fricatives.
Of course, there are technical terms for each of the five combinations of vocal apparatus that constrict the airflow, but I did not flaunt that knowledge to the kid.
Of course, there are technical terms for each of the five combinations of vocal apparatus that constrict the airflow, but I did not flaunt that knowledge to the kid.
~ The lip and teeth combination makes the f in fire and the v in very.
~ The tongue and teeth combination makes the sound th in math and this.
~ The tongue and alveolar ridge (the ridge behind the upper front teeth) combination makes the sin say and the z in zebra.
~ The tongue and palate (roof of the mouth) combination makes the sh and zh sounds in shoe,machine, azure, and rouge.
~ The glottis (the area of the windpipe behind the tongue) makes the sound of the h in happy andhello.
Note, these examples are not bad words (well, math may be to some people). But the tone we use saying them may help us express our attitudes and emotions.
Frankly, My DearMy librarian friend Carolyn, an expert on Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With the Wind, says that the movie folks added the punch to Rhett’s farewell speech to Scarlett when they added the word frankly to Mitchell’s dialogue. In “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” it is that wonderful fricative f in franklythat stings.
Carolyn swears that scientific studies have been done that prove using fricatives causes the part of the brain called the amygdala to jump into action, flooding the senses with hormonal superpowers. The conclusion of more than one study: People who swear reduce their stress and heighten their pain tolerance.
Why not run your own little scientific test? Hit your left thumb with a hammer, and say, “That frickinghurts!” Then hit your right thumb with the same hammer (for a controlled study) and say, “Oh, dear, it hurts!” Really, which felt better?
Of course, Carolyn pointed out, nobody beats William Shakespeare when it comes to using colorful language, and he created effective phrases without stooping to words that would be banned in print for middle-grade students. Take Queen Margaret calling Richard III to his face a “poisonous bunch-back’d toad” (Richard III, Act 1, Scene 3, line 247). And there is one of Falstaff’s fellow drinkers calling other drunks “these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms” (Henry IV, Part 1, Act 2, Scene 1, lines 74-75). In another example from Henry IV, Prince Hal calls a tradesman a “leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch” (Act 2, Scene 4, lines 68-70).
Today’s children’s writers could replace cuss words with fricatives in a humorous way with more up-to-date language. I asked my Wednesday lunch group writers for examples of fricatives, and we sat around the table swearing like sailors in friendly language: from son of a biscuit eater to dagnabit to simple words like fudge, shucks, and featherhead. One writer reminded us that a current phrase used by kids when aggravated in the presence of adults is shut the front door.
There are tons of possibilities for giving characters words they could use for fun and as an outlet for their frustrations that will pass that first editor’s desk. Be as creative as the Bard, that sour-pussed, fret-minded Brit.
Carolyn swears that scientific studies have been done that prove using fricatives causes the part of the brain called the amygdala to jump into action, flooding the senses with hormonal superpowers. The conclusion of more than one study: People who swear reduce their stress and heighten their pain tolerance.
Why not run your own little scientific test? Hit your left thumb with a hammer, and say, “That frickinghurts!” Then hit your right thumb with the same hammer (for a controlled study) and say, “Oh, dear, it hurts!” Really, which felt better?
Of course, Carolyn pointed out, nobody beats William Shakespeare when it comes to using colorful language, and he created effective phrases without stooping to words that would be banned in print for middle-grade students. Take Queen Margaret calling Richard III to his face a “poisonous bunch-back’d toad” (Richard III, Act 1, Scene 3, line 247). And there is one of Falstaff’s fellow drinkers calling other drunks “these mad mustachio purple-hued maltworms” (Henry IV, Part 1, Act 2, Scene 1, lines 74-75). In another example from Henry IV, Prince Hal calls a tradesman a “leathern-jerkin, crystal-button, not-pated, agate-ring, puke-stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spanish pouch” (Act 2, Scene 4, lines 68-70).
Today’s children’s writers could replace cuss words with fricatives in a humorous way with more up-to-date language. I asked my Wednesday lunch group writers for examples of fricatives, and we sat around the table swearing like sailors in friendly language: from son of a biscuit eater to dagnabit to simple words like fudge, shucks, and featherhead. One writer reminded us that a current phrase used by kids when aggravated in the presence of adults is shut the front door.
There are tons of possibilities for giving characters words they could use for fun and as an outlet for their frustrations that will pass that first editor’s desk. Be as creative as the Bard, that sour-pussed, fret-minded Brit.
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