If you’re anything like me, “going cold turkey” means walking down the block to the local bodega and grabbing a delicious club sandwich, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and the fizziest bottle of seltzer available. But the most common use of this idiom has nothing to do with the deli counter. Instead, it implies a complete and abrupt end to a habit, often under great stress.
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“Quitting cold turkey” is commonly used to describe a method of abstaining from drugs or alcohol, but it can apply to any habit a person wants to quit: smoking cigarettes, biting fingernails, excessive social media use, you name it. Instead of gradually weaning off the habit, the person undergoes a complete and immediate withdrawal to reset their addiction. In this specific context, the idiom dates to a 1921 article about a Dr. Carleton Simon of Victoria, Canada, implying the method was used in extreme cases. Smith was said to give “the ‘cold turkey’ treatment” to the “most pitiful figures who have appeared before [him].”
While that usage caught on quickly, the term predates that article by at least a decade. The Historical Dictionary of American Slang has a 1910 usage where someone lost $5,000 “cold turkey.” In this sense, the expression comes from a combination of the word “cold,” meaning “straightforward,” and the idiom “talk turkey,” meaning “to speak frankly and get down to business.” “Cold turkey” was essentially a way to be concise and definitive.
While the usage of this phrase has changed over time, I’m certain that going cold turkey off anything requires guts. So stop being a chicken and start evaluating which of your habits are going on your New Year’s resolutions list.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
For most brides and grooms, the post-wedding period is an exciting time of overt love and joy. Many couples immediately embark on a trip — commonly called a honeymoon — to celebrate their nuptials. But unless the newlyweds are beekeepers by trade, it’s natural to wonder how “honeymoon” came to refer to a wedding vacation.
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The term’s connection to marriage dates back to the mid-16th century, first spelled in Old English ashony moone. At this point, it referred not to a vacation, but to a period of love and happiness immediately following marriage. Today, this usage is still around, but chiefly in the context of the “end of the honeymoon period.” Outside of marriage, “honeymoon” (spelled “honiemoone” in 1579) could also refer to friendly political relations. Again, this usage might be applied today in the sense of the honeymoon period ending between factions. It wasn’t until the late 18th century that the term referred to a post-wedding vacation.
No matter the context in which “honeymoon” is being used, the word most likely comes from a nickname for the actual moon. The first full moon after the summer solstice in late June is sometimes called the “Honey Moon” or “Mead Moon” (mead being an alcoholic drink made from honey). There are a few connections to marriage and weddings: The Honey Moon marked the beginning of honey harvesting season in medieval Europe, and summer has long been a popular time to get married. It was also very common to drink mead at Viking weddings and other northern European marriage celebrations, thus cementing the connection even further. The mead symbolized a sweet life ahead for the happy couple.
While we can trace the evolution of the term “honeymoon” over time, it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when it made the leap from a general period of love to a specific vacation (and we’re not even looking at the neologism “babymoon”). But our best guess is that it simply has to do with the sweetness of marriage, and that there are few things sweeter than honey.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
Looking for the perfect gift for the aspiring author in your life? With online writing classes, inspirational reads, cozy writing essentials, and tools to spark creativity, this guide has everything they need to pen their masterpiece in the year ahead.
Looking for the perfect gift for the aspiring author in your life? With online writing classes, inspirational reads, cozy writing essentials, and tools to spark creativity, this guide has everything they need to pen their masterpiece in the year ahead.
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At the end of the year, people might already be thinking ahead to those New Year’s resolutions. If your holiday gift list includes someone who’s dreaming of writing their first book, we have some suggestions. Whether they scribble memoir ideas by hand in a notebook, or plot story lines for the next great American novel on their laptop, there’s a perfect gift for every writer.
Online Classes To Spark the Muse
Staring at a blank page is the curse of the writer, but an online class through MasterClass or Skillshare may be just the thing to encourage your loved one to turn their book idea into reality. Publishing powerhouses — including Margaret Atwood, James Patterson, and Malcolm Gladwell — teach MasterClasses on writing, and David Baldacci gives insight into the experience of working with an editor. With Skillshare, you can encourage your brother to develop a niche skill such as sci-fi world building, or nurture your dad’s interest in learning how to turn his childhood stories into a memoir with “Creative Writing: Crafting Personal Essays With Impact” from master storyteller Roxane Gay.
Yes, you can save countless drafts to the cloud, but many writers still prefer the feel of paper and pen for getting their creativity flowing. Options for notebooks and pens are infinite, but we suggest a nice hardcover notebook or stack of classic legal pads and a smooth-writing, smudge-free gel pen. Delivering a box of these classic writing tools, along with a note of encouragement, will send the message that you believe they can complete their book in the next year.
To set the mood in their writing den, nothing says “serious writer” like an Edgar Allan Poe-inspired candle. What scent story does “The Raven” author tell? Nutmeg, golden apple, vanilla bean, and notes of spiced musk and creamy sandalwood, apparently. Don’t forget the writer’s true best friend: caffeine. With an Ember smart mug, your favorite writer will be able to keep their coffee and tea at the perfect temperature, even when they’re swept away in character development.
American novelist and Nobel laureate William Faulkner said, “Read, read, read. Read everything — trash, classics, good and bad, and see how they do it. Just like a carpenter who works as an apprentice and studies the master. Read! You’ll absorb it. Then write. If it is good, you’ll find out. If it’s not, throw it out the window.”
We’re firmly behind Faulkner on this and believe you can give virtually any book to an aspiring writer, and it will be useful. However, if you want to give some inspiration for a specific genre, we have recommendations.
Literary fiction: My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante — This novel was named No. 1 on The New York Times list of “100 Best Books of the 21st Century.”
Sci-fi: Frankenstein by Mary Shelley — Remade and remixed in countless ways, this was the original sci-fi novel, published in 1818 when Shelley was 20 years old.
Non-fiction: In Cold Blood by Truman Capote — Capote coined the term “nonfiction novel” for his true-crime book that reads like a thriller.
If you want to gift a book on writing, these are some standouts:
On Writing by Stephen King — It’s part memoir, part accessible toolkit for being a better writer.
The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron — This is a classic guide for unlocking creativity in daily practice (and there’s a workbook).
The Elements of Style by Strunk & White — Good writers know the rules before they break them.
For fun, slip Rooms of Their Own, a gorgeous peek into famous writers’ workspaces, under the tree. Sometimes knowing that even the Brontë sisters wrote in organized chaos can make someone feel better about their own pile of messy Post-it notes.
Jennifer A. Freeman is the Senior Editor of Word Smarts and Word Daily. When she's not searching for a perfect synonym or reaching "Genius" level on Spelling Bee, she's playing with her Welsh Terrier in Greenville, SC.
Should You Say “Different Than” or “Different From”?
Prepositional phrases can be tricky, but there are certain contexts when you should pick one version over the other. Let’s explore this grammar question.
How do you know when to use “different than” or “different from”? If you’re at book club and you announce, “This book is different from anything I’ve read before,” it will have the same meaning as if you said, “This book is different than anything I’ve read before.” In most casual contexts, these phrases are interchangeable for comparing and contrasting topics.
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But there are certain usages when one preposition is the better choice. If you want to compare two nouns or pronouns, use “different from.” For example: “My haircut looks different from Rachel’s haircut.” We’re comparing the appearance of one haircut to another.
“Different than” is acceptable when an additional word makes it awkward to use “from,” or when it’s introducing a clause: “I had a different experience than you did” or “She expected the cheesecake to be different than it was.”
Some grammar sticklers argue that “different than” is incorrect because the use of “than” implies a comparison between two objects. It usually follows a comparative adjective, as in “larger than” or “more beautiful than.” Other comparative adjectives include “higher” and “better” (not to be confused with superlative adjectives such as “highest, “best,” and “most”).
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However, this grammar rule is outdated, and “different than” can be found in published works dating back to the mid-19th century. In fact, Charles Darwin used examples of both “different than” and “different from” in his landmark 1859 publication On the Origin of Species:
“Natural selection may modify and adapt the larva of an insect to a score of contingencies, wholly different from those which concern the mature insect.”
“What can be more different than the immensely long spiral proboscis of a sphinx-moth, the curious folded one of a bee or bug, and the great jaws of a beetle?”
These examples technically swap how we use the prepositional phrases today, but, as we know, grammar guidelines shift over time. However, there is one more wrinkle to the issue at hand: British English uses “different to,” but never “different than.” If your audience is British, stick with “different from.”
Samantha Abernethy is a freelancer in Chicago. When she isn't staring at a laptop, you can find her sniffing out the best coffee with her greyhound Ruby, or chasing her kids around the nearest library.
Everything’s bigger in Texas, including the lexicon, as evidenced by the extensive list of local sayings and idioms used throughout the Lone Star State. These turns of phrase make it easy to spot a Texan from a mile away (though the ten-gallon hats and spurred cowboy boots certainly help as well). There are classic expressions, such as “howdy” and “y’all,” as well as some phrases you may not be familiar with unless you’re from Texas. Let’s look at some of the distinctive phrases that are particularly common among Texans.
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Fixin’ To
“Fixin’ to” is the unofficial state verb of Texas. It’s used in a situation where you’re about to do something, but aren’t quite ready just yet. You might say, for example, “I’m fixin’ to go buy groceries,” which more or less means, “I’m planning to go buy groceries.” If someone says they’re “fixin’ to” do something, then it’s on their mind and likely to occur in the near future.
Coke
When you order a “Coke” in Texas, someone might ask you what kind. This may be confusing to non-Texans, as they probably just wanted a Coca-Cola. But “Coke,” like “soda” and “pop,” is a regionalism; Texans use the word to refer to any type of fizzy soft drink. So, if you want a Sprite, you may start by ordering a “Coke,” and then clarifying that you want a Sprite.
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Might Could
While a lot of slang words help to shorten sentences, sometimes Texans add words that make common phrases longer. This is the case with “might could,” which is a particularly popular Texan saying. While in most parts of the country you’d say, “I could take care of that,” in Texas you’d say, “I might could take care of that.” At the end of the day, these two sentences mean the exact same thing, but Texans like adding a little extra “might” in there.
All Hat, No Cattle
Have you ever heard the phrase “all bark and no bite”? Well, in Texas — where there’s quite a lot of cattle — you’re far more likely to hear “all hat and no cattle.” Both idioms mean that someone is all talk and no action.
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Bless Your Heart
The phrase “bless your heart” can be received one of two ways in Texas. Sometimes it’s sincere and sympathetic, but more often than not it’s delivered in a condescending tone. Deciphering the meaning all comes down to context. Someone who tells you, “Bless your heart,” may actually feel sorry for you, or they may be judging you while maintaining a superficial perception of being nice.
Reckon
People in Texas don’t just think — they “reckon.” This classic Texan slang is used in a variety of ways, such as for making a prediction or guess, or expressing a strongly held belief. For instance, someone might say, “I reckon that it’ll rain later,” or, “I reckon it’ll take a few hours to fix the car,” or even, “I reckon that BBQ is my favorite type of food.”
If someone says a person or animal “wouldn’t bite a biscuit,” it means they’re a kind and harmless creature. The implication here is that Texans love their biscuits with a passion, so anyone or anything that wouldn’t bite into such a tasty treat is viewed as pretty mild.
All Git-Out
Last but not least, if you’re trying to convey something to an extreme degree in Texas, you may use the saying “all git-out.” This adverbial phrase is usually tacked onto the end of sentences in tandem with an adjective, as in, “The sun is as hot as all git-out,” or, “This brisket is as tasty as all git-out.” In any instance, it essentially means something is true to the maximum degree possible.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
When I think of the phrase “for Pete’s sake,” I hear it with a tone of exasperation. Perhaps that’s why I thought the “Pete” in question might be Peter Pan, the boy who wouldn’t grow up. After all, who hasn’t been exasperated by a childish prank? But it turns out “Pete” may not refer to a person at all.
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“For Pete’s sake” is an idiom, or an expression whose meaning cannot be derived from the literal meaning of individual words in the phrase. Let’s give it a try here anyway. The word “sake” comes from the Old English word sacu, meaning “a cause or dispute.” These days, “sake” refers to a purpose or motive, and it almost always appears in a clause such as “for the sake of time” or “for my sake.” So, if we go back to “for Pete’s sake,” we have something that means “for the benefit of Pete.”
“For Pete’s sake” is often used as a euphemism (a literary device we covered in a recent edition), a less vulgar replacement for a curse word or, in this case, a religious word. For example, “oh my gosh” is a euphemism to avoid saying “Oh my God.” There’s a popular theory that the “Pete” in question” was St. Peter; however, this is likely a folk etymology, as there is no evidence anyone purposely chose Peter to refer to the saint. A folk etymology is when a plausible origin is adopted to match a current usage, similar to a backronym (also discussed in a recent edition), yet there’s no basis in fact.
The first citation of “for Pete’s sake” in the Oxford English Dictionary is in 1903, but the similar-sounding phrase “for pity’s sake” is much older. It has been around since at least the early 1600s, and it appeared in Shakespeare’s Othello. The phrase “for peace’s sake” has also been used sporadically since the 1600s, although “for the sake of peace” is more common. It’s not a stretch to assume that “for Pete’s sake evolved out of the similar pronunciation of “Pete” and “peace.”
“For Pete’s sake,” isn’t the only idiom named after no one. We can’t forget “heavens to Betsy” and “by George” — and although there have been several notable individuals named “Sam Hill” in American history (such as the abolitionist), the phrase “What in Sam Hill?” predates all of them. In all of these idioms, the name in question could refer to any Tom, Dick, or Harry — who also were not specific people.
Samantha Abernethy is a freelancer in Chicago. When she isn't staring at a laptop, you can find her sniffing out the best coffee with her greyhound Ruby, or chasing her kids around the nearest library.
A metonym is a figure of speech in which one word or phrase is substituted for another with which it is closely associated, often based on location or cultural context.
During a recent visit to London, I noticed something about the language used by our guides while touring the storied streets of Westminster. They rarely said “the royal family” or a specific name. Instead, they referred to the collective British monarchy as “the crown” or “the palace.” Of course, we knew what they meant, but someone who isn’t a native English speaker (or hasn’t seen the Netflix show) might be confused. After all, a crown is an object that sits on a head and can’t participate in ceremonies or confer a knighthood. Using the words “crown” or “palace” to refer to the British monarchy is an example of a figure of speech called “metonymy.” When a word is used this way — as a substitute for another word, phrase, or expression that it’s intimately associated with — it’s called a “metonym.”
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While on my British vacation, I noticed metonymy everywhere. “Downing Street” serves as a metonym for another influential entity, the British prime minister, or more broadly, the U.K. government, as in, “Citizens are eagerly awaiting news from Downing Street regarding a possible tax hike.” Just down the street is “Scotland Yard,” originally the name of the Metropolitan Police headquarters, now used as shorthand for the police force itself. And “Fleet Street” is the unofficial moniker for the British press. The thoroughfare is no longer the home of many of the newspapers, but in the 18th and 19th centuries, it was the heart of the British publishing industry.
This linguistic phenomenon isn’t unique to British dialogue — locations often serve as metonymic symbols around the globe. “The Vatican,” for instance, succinctly stands in for the Roman Catholic Church, and Aussies refer to their federal government as “Canberra” — the capital city. In the U.S., “Hollywood” refers to the American film industry, and “Nashville” stands in for the country music industry. On the governmental side of things, “Washington” refers to the federal government (or things associated with it, such as lobbyists), “Pentagon” applies to the Department of Defense, and “White House” stands in for the president or their administration.
The term “metonymy” comes from the Greekmetōnymia, aptly meaning “change of name.” While many recognizable examples relate to places or institutions, metonyms can replace everyday words. For instance, “red tape” often stands in for a complicated bureaucratic process. This metonymy takes us back to England, referring to the red tape historically used to bind British legal documents. Using metonymy in this way enriches everyday conversations or helps make a point more clearly, and sometimes, it can reveal cultural nuances and shared understandings, too.
Featured image credit: Traceyaphotos2/ Shutterstock
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
The term “spelling bee” is an interesting name that has nothing to do with the insect. No vendors are selling honeycomb, there’s no mandatory black and yellow dress code, and the only buzzing is probably coming from an incandescent light hanging overhead. So how did spelling bees get their name? Using “bee” to describe communal gatherings intended to accomplish a specific goal entered the collective lexicon in the 18th century.
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“Bee” was used in this specific context by 1769, referring to an “informal social gathering … organized to carry out a specific activity.” The reason for the term “bee” is unclear, though there are theories. According to Scripps National Spelling Bee — the preeminent U.S. spelling competition — the term is derived from the Middle English “bene,” which translates to “a prayer or favor.” As the English language evolved, “bene” became “been,” used in reference to any help that was given toward accomplishing a task. It’s believed “been”was shortened to “bee,” which is where the modern term comes from. However, this is just a linguistic theory that’s difficult to confirm one way or the other. The word “bee” as an insect has been in use since at least 13th-century Old English writings.
The first published mention of a communal bee came in the Boston Gazette. It referenced a group of women meeting for a “Spinning Match; (or what is call’d in the Country a Bee)” to produce cottons and linens. Soon people were gathering for quilting bees, drinking bees, sewing bees, and more. In 1850, the term “spelling bee” appeared in print in The Knickerbocker magazine. It made mention of spelling bees occurring at schools in the country, implying these events were already considered common at the time.
In 2025, the Scripps National Spelling Bee will celebrate its 100th anniversary. Schools can apply for entry through January 31, 2025, so there’s still time to get onstage at the most prestigious spelling bee in the world.
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
While many use “dinner” and “supper” interchangeably today, these terms once distinguished between midday and evening meals, and classified the importance of the meal.
The terms “supper” and “dinner” both mean one thing: that it’s a bad day to be a tasty cheeseburger or a delicious plate of pasta. These words are often used interchangeably to refer to a large meal at night, but throughout history, they haven’t been entirely synonymous. To better understand how to use them correctly, let’s travel back to the 18th century, when the three most common meals eaten each day were called “breakfast,” “dinner,” and “supper.”
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“Supper” is defined by Oxford English Dictionary (OED)as “the last meal of the day,” while Merriam-Webster classifies it as “the evening meal especially when dinner is taken at midday.” The definition of “dinner,” meanwhile, has undergone a slight evolution over time. As early as the 14th century, dinner was defined as “the first large meal of the day,” but through the 18th century, it evolved to be considered “the main meal of the day, taken either around midday or in the evening.” Based on the definitions, you can see that the concepts of supper and dinner are intertwined, but not exactly interchangeable.
Now for some historical context — according to food historian Helen Zoe Veit, 18th- and 19th-century people often “[ate] dinner — the biggest meal of the day — around noon.” This was due to many people working from home (on a family farm, for example, not in a home office like you might), making it easier to prepare and eat a large midday meal. At night, these folks were usually still satisfied from their big midday dinner, but they would have a light supper before bed.
As industrialization expanded and people left their homes to work in factories and office spaces, it became difficult to prepare a large midday meal worthy of being called “dinner.” Consequently, dinner shifted to the evening when people got home from work. Supper became less common as there was no need for a light meal before bed. That said, you can technically swap “supper” for “dinner” if you’re talking about the last meal of the day. Using “supper” for the evening meal is most common in farming communities where the largest meal is still eaten at midday.
The most common term for the midday meal now is “lunch,” which is a shortening of “luncheon.” It came about in the early 16th century, referring to a light repast (an old-fashioned term for “snack”) served between the meals of breakfast and midday dinner. If we were in Great Britain, we could devote many additional lines to the differences between high tea, afternoon tea, and royal tea, but we’ll save that for a future edition. Bon appétit!
Bennett Kleinman is a New York City-based staff writer for Optimism. He is also a freelance comedy writer, devoted New York Yankees and New Jersey Devils fan, and thinks plain seltzer is the best drink ever invented.
A zeugma is a literary technique that creates multiple meanings in a single context. Thanks to zeugmas, we can humorously express the idea of losing both our wallets and our patience.
I have a theory that music listeners fall into one of two camps: The first values catchy melodies and harmonies, while the second is drawn to the poetry of lyrics. I’m firmly in the latter camp. Recently, while immersed in the lyrics of Taylor Swift’s most recent album, The Tortured Poets Department, I found a line that scratched my wordplay-loving itch. In the song “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,” she sings, “You crashed my party and your rental car.”
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This line exemplifies a zeugma (pronounced “ZOOG-muh”), a rhetorical device that modifies two different nouns using one word (usually a verb or an adjective). Here, “crashed” applies to both “party” and “rental car,” linking the emotional turmoil of an uninvited guest with the literal disaster of crashing a rental car. The zeugma emphasizes the chaos caused by this individual, creating a vivid image that wouldn’t be as powerful if it were expressed in two separate lines.
The use of zeugmas is nothing new. In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen wielded this tool during an interaction between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy: “Yet time and her aunt moved slowly — and her patience and her ideas were nearly worn out before the tête-à-tête was over.” In this instance, Austen illustrates that while Elizabeth’s aunt physically moves slowly, time also drags on figuratively, heightening the awkwardness of her conversation with Mr. Darcy.
A few decades later, Mark Twain employed the device in one of his most memorable lines from The Adventures of Tom Sawyer: “They covered themselves with dust and glory.” Here, “covered” is used literally with “dust” and figuratively with “glory,” making the phrase more engaging because of this union.
“Zeugma” itself is pulled directly from the Greekzeugma, meaning “that which is used for joining.” If you incorporate this tool in your writing, use it judiciously. A well-placed zeugma can add flair, emphasis, or humor, but it demands more from readers. Overuse can lead to confusion or fatigue, so use it sparingly — just as Swift, Austen, and Twain have masterfully demonstrated.
Rachel is a Washington, D.C.-based freelance writer. When she's not writing, you can find her wandering through a museum, exploring a new city, or advocating the importance of the Oxford comma.
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