Rugby

Over the weekend, Mr. Boyce and I celebrated our wedding anniversary.We marked the occasion by ditching the kids and hitting the pub. The English-style establishment to which we sojourned has large screen televisions adorning the walls, which air sporting events. Now, my husband and I are not sports fans. I like the Olympics and the World Cup. Basically, I can get excited about athletics for a brief period of time once every few years. We pay zero attention to American sport seasons.

These seem like people who would play rugby, right?

During our repast at the pub, our fellow patrons were excited about a contest of collegiate American football played between canines with stunted nasal passages and a toxic algal bloom. Forgive me, my fellow Americans, but I just don't get the appeal of the game. Armored lummoxes of men move a ball up and down a field in minute increments with only the occasional break-out display of action. An hour of game time manages to suck up double or triple as much actual time because of all the stops between plays and officiating and whatnot. It bores me.

About the time I ordered another pint, one of the large televisions (the smallest one, crammed up in the corner) showed a game (match?) of rugby. Mr. B noticed it first, as it was behind me. He was delighted with what he saw, so I joined him on his side of the booth. I saw large men with massive thighs and bare heads barreling up and down the pitch. The ball was kept in action until a tackle or collision brought play to a temporary halt. A gentleman bearing a striking resemblance to Hagrid seemed possessed of a Berserker rage and plowed straight through anyone in his path. In fact, I wondered aloud if the game had been invented by the Scots. It seemed like the foolhardy and slightly deranged activity that marvelous country is known for. Wikipedia informed me that, in fact, the game developed amongst another group of impulsive males -- school boys.

But seriously, someone please explain this to me.

The game was hugely entertaining to watch. The action was almost non-stop. Players performed the same kinds of tackles and grapples as American football players, minus the safety equipment. From my perspective as an audience member, the stakes seemed higher. We saw a player gamely trot off the field with blood pouring down his face. Once in a while, for some reason I don't understand, both teams piled together and tried to push through each other. As near as I could tell, it was done just for the sheer joy of plowing over the adversary.

Because I've never met an analogy I couldn't stretch until it screams in agony, that rugby game got me thinking about writing. Good writing leaps off the page. An entertaining novel is packed with conflict and the action keeps moving the plot forward at a good clip. There aren't big breaks in the action to dissect what happened, like between football plays. It just keeps going. Good writing takes risks, like those rugby players hurtling down the pitch without the pads and helmets American football players wear. The stakes should be big. When a character slams into an obstacle, it should matter. It should hurt. Otherwise, no one will care when that character finally prevails.

I'm sure there are plenty of rules associated with rugby, but I don't know what they are, and when I was watching that game, they didn't matter to me in the slightest. I couldn't begin to tell you whether or not those teams were following the rules. All I cared about was how much fun it was to watch the action unfold. Likewise, a reader shouldn't worry about whether or not the author is following all the rules. Rather, she should be thrilled by the daring premise and emotional turmoil; she should be left breathless by the conflict and action.

So, that's my tip for today: Write like you're playing rugby.

Your Etymological Guide to the Olympic Games

On Friday, July 27, 2012, the Summer Olympic Games kick off in London. I'm a sucker for the Olympics. Opening ceremonies reduce me to tears.Tiny, plucky gymnasts sticking their landings make my heart swell. High jumps and javelin throws and the fleet of foot thrill me. I just love it. In honor of the 2012 Games, I thought we'd take a look at the etymology behind some of the language we associate with this event. Because, fun!

Oh, these words aren't in alphabetical order. They're in Elizabeth-thought-of-them-in-this order.

To begin, this post has a soundtrack. I implore you to play "Bugler's Dream" as you read. I find it really adds to the festive spirit of the piece.

Olympics: We call these games the Olympics because they are a revival of the ancient Greek Olympic games, so named for their site, the Olympia plain in Elis, Greece. The original Olympics were held in honor of Zeus. I did some digging, but can't find any etymology for "Olympia" beyond the fact that it's a name. NOTE: the plain, Olympia, was not at the foot of Mount Olympus, the dwelling place of the Greek gods. The mountain is in Thessaly, more than 200 miles from the site of the plain. The first modern Olympic Games was held in Athens, Greece, in 1896.

Athlete: The term by which we call the Games' competitors comes from, of course, the ancient Greek. Stretching back as far as I can take it, we find athlos, "a contest," which begets athletes, a "contestant in the games."

Pro tip: Don't make snide
"size" remarks to the gentleman
who could hurl that heavy,
metal Frisbee at your head.

Competition: Is brought to us by the Latin, competitio, "a rivalry."

Victor: From the Latin again. This one has remained remarkably intact. Victor, meaning "conqueror." 

Game: This one is English, baby. USA! USA! Oh, wait... Old English gamen, "fun or amusement." Interestingly, we can trace this word back along its Germanic roots to the Gothic, in which the word gaman held a sense of "communion" or "people together." Games are all about being together. Awww, group hug!

Team: English again! Well, this is interesting. Originally, the Old English team referred to a set of draft animals yoked together. Oxen and whatnot. Beasts that pull. When it was first applied to humans, team indicated a group of people bringing suit. Class action lawsuits, you guys. In Old English.

Race: The short race was one of the five original Olympic games. Old Norse ras, meaning "running or rushing water." This word first was associated, in English, with a contest of speed in the 1500's.

Javelin: The javelin throw was also one of the original games. Middle French this time. Javeline, "a spear." That's pretty straightforward. Moving along...

Gymnastic: Back to Greece! Gymnasticus, meaning "fond of or skilled in bodily exercise."

Discus: Another of the original Olympic competitions. And another word that's stayed with us since the beginning. Ancient Greek diskus, "disk or platter."

Old timey man on the right, you're not even trying!!! This is a race, not a stroll
in the park. You've dishonored your ancestors and your nation. Way to go.

Wrestling: Ooo, this one's going to test my special character finding skills. Old English wræstlung, which is "a sport of grappling or throwing." Sounds about right.

Jump: And finally, a fun one to round out the list of things I thought of related to the Olympics. The long jump was one of the five original games. Our modern word might be ancient onomatopoeia, y'all (related to bump.). Holy crap. How cool is that? OR, the more boring idea is that it's derived from the Gallo-Romance dialects of southwestern France. I'm sticking with onomatopoeia. Because it's more fun to say "onomatopoeia" than "Gallo-Romance dialect."

I hope you've enjoyed this etymological glossary of Olympic words! Best of luck to all the athletes who will compete in this year's summer games. I hope we can all come together in the spirit in which the Games were founded. I'll bring the sacrificial bull. See you in London!

Lots of information from http://www.etymonline.com.