Okay. The juju is back.
I sat at the bar in the Last Straw and wrote two brand new scenes to begin the 3rd Act. I think they’re pretty good, but I’ll give them another once-over today to see if they pass the ‘not under the influence of three pints’ test. Alternatively, the audience could simply be required to inebriate themselves before watching the play.
Also of interest this morning — juju is a word. I thought it was just something I made up, but when my computer didn’t underline the word in red, I set out to look it up in the dictionary. Turns out that juju not only is a word, but has two completely different meanings. It further turns out that one of those definitions suits perfectly my intended use of the word.
a charm or fetish, esp. of a type used by some West African peoples.
- •supernatural power attributed to such a charm or fetish : juju and witchcraft.
Juju is also a style of music popular among the Yaruba in Nigeria.
I am forced to admit that I must have picked the word up from somewhere and that really sucks. I like the word because it doesn’t sound like a real word. It’s like something you might speak in a low fluffy voice while playing with a puppy… or write at the top of a blog article to describe that magical feeling you get when the writing feels like it’s coming out right.
In general, I like words. I mean, I’m a writer. I consume them. I’m even a subscriber to the Oxford English Dictionary’s ‘word of the day’, looking to learn really cool words like ‘verisimilitude’ or ‘fuckwit’, but instead I get words like, ‘duck’, ‘right’, ‘player’ or yesterday’s gem, ‘resistant’. Who the hell am I going to impress by casually throwing around the word ‘resistant’.
They’ll think I’m a fuckwit.