Much like the two fictional families in my novel “I Knew Men,” the Fraziers and the Newmans, my own family enjoys hanging out, especially when food is involved. Recently, when I was with my two daughters and a good friend, playing cribbage and sharing a pina colada bowl, our conversation turned to guessing which words members of our family absolutely hate to hear uttered in any way, shape, or form.
For me, this was easy. One of my daughters hates the word “testicle,” and she has for as long as I can remember. The other daughter hates “moist.” Both remembered that their dad hates “treat.” When they looked at me, they drew a blank. They thought they knew what my word was, but neither could figure it out.
Maybe the reason is that I both love and hate my word: the big “f” word. I love it because there are times when no other word fits. Slam your toe into the bedpost in the middle of the night. “Sh-t!,” “damn!,” or “gosh-darn-it!” might work okay for some, but for me, that’s a “f**k!” situation. Learn that your bank account is overdrawn? “Oh, f**k.”
A TIME FOR F***KING HATE
If f**k is used casually, for no good reason, without imagination, I hate it. What was once a really good swear word, the ultimate good swear word that you could never openly say in public, has become so commonplace that it’s lost its potency. It’s a word fart.
Recently, while my car was being serviced, I waited in the reception area with a mom and her tween-aged daughter. The daughter said something I couldn’t understand. Immediately the mother admonished her. “Watch your mouth! We’re in f**king public!”
Although I stifled a laugh at the irony, I really hated it. Clearly, that mom uses f**k freely and loosely, on auto-pilot without reservation. Ugh.
HOW MANY IS TOO MANY?
When I first realized my novel might be inappropriate for Covenant Books, the Christian publishing company to which I wanted to submit my manuscript, I searched for how many times I used my favorite word, for better or worse.
My story is about the sister of brothers who are in a hard rocking, small town band. She falls in love with the leader of a music group whose popularity is on a world-wide scale. In my own experience of hanging around musicians of all sorts, their language can be colorful, fun — entertaining.
It should come as no surprise that the language in my novel reflects what I’ve been exposed to. The first manuscript used f**k 52 times. When I submitted to Covenant, I had removed all but six of them. Those six were my favorites, and no substitution worked to my satisfaction. Still, Covenant didn’t want any, so my publisher search continued. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice the six.
Time will tell if I made the right decision. Depending on where this new author journey goes, there could be more well-placed f**ks in my future.
I’m hoping not.