Bill W

The word "obscure" dates back to the early 15th century, meaning "dark" or "dim". It originates from the Old French obscur and the Latin obscurus, meaning "dark", "dim", or "concealed". The Latin term breaks down into the prefix ob- ("over") and -scurus ("covered"), ultimately tracing back to the Proto-Indo-European root (s)keu-, meaning "to cover" or "conceal". According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the earliest known use of the adjective obscured dates back to the Middle English period (1150-1500). The OED's earliest recorded evidence of the word is from around 1485, in the writings of the Scottish soldier and poet Gilbert Hay. The OED cites the verb form of obscure was first used in English in the mid-to-late 15th century with the earliest recorded evidence is a citation from before 1475 in a translation of Ralph Higden’s Polychronicon. The noun obscurity has its earliest OED citation from 1474 in a translation by William Caxton. The earliest meaning of obscured referred to something hidden or cloaked, but by the 1520s the meaning evolved to include concealing something from knowledge or observation. By the 1590s the literal physical meaning—meaning something is indistinct, hardly perceptible, or without clearness of form—began appearing regularly in literature.

Suspicion in storytelling is a powerful narrative engine. It forces readers to actively engage rather than passively consume. By introducing doubt, you shatter the "single story" and force audiences to question motives, read between the lines, and hunt for truth. The importance of suspicion in writing stories: Engaging Cognitive Process: When a narrative presents contradictions or incomplete information, the reader's brain must work to reconcile the gaps. This active participation shifts the reader from an observer to a detective, deepening their emotional and intellectual investment in the story. Creating Psychological Suspense: Suspense thrives in the gap between what a character knows and what the reader suspects. This dynamic relies heavily on two contrasting viewpoints: The Obvious Character: A character walks into a trap while the reader's suspicion—or outright knowledge—of the looming threat builds tension. The Unreliable Narrator: Forcing the audience to doubt the narrator's sanity or honesty creates a lingering sense of paranoia. This makes every sentence a clue that must be weighed against the probability of deceit. Builds Rich Character Depth: Characters who give off "untrustworthy vibes" instantly become more complex. Suspicion drives characters to test each other's boundaries, forcing them to reveal their true core values, fears, and hidden pasts when their motives are questioned. Enables Subtext and Thematic Depth: Suspicion allows a story to operate on multiple levels. It acts as a bridge between the literal plot and the underlying themes. Readers who read "against the grain" use suspicion to uncover deeper truths about the author's world, whether that involves uncovering sociopolitical critiques, hidden biases, or the inherent flaws of human memory. Ultimately, utilizing suspicion—whether through plot twists, flawed narrators, or mysterious environments—transforms a straightforward tale into an immersive, interactive puzzle that stays with the audience long after the story ends.

Suspicion" traces back to the Latin word suspicere, which means "to look up at" or "to look at from below" and gave rise to the noun suspicio, meaning mistrust, fear, or a hunch. This Latin noun transitioned into Old French as suspicion or sospeçon (the root of the Modern French soupçon). It was borrowed into English around the 13th century (first recorded in manuscripts around 1290 as suspecioun), and eventually standardized into its modern spelling by learned scribes who wanted to reflect its original Latin roots. According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the noun "suspicion" was first used in English during the late 13th century. The earliest known recorded instance in the OED dates to around 1290 in a Middle English manuscript about Saint Sebastian. The word was borrowed from the Anglo-Norman and Old French word suspecioun, which ultimately derives from the Latin suspectio. The OED also has an entry for the verb form of "suspicion" (meaning "to suspect"), but it traces that usage much later, to a translation by Nicholas Ferrar before 1637. According to the (OED), the adjective suspicious was first used in the Middle English period (1150-1500). Its earliest documented appearance dates back to 1340, where it was used in the religious and moral treatise Ayenbite of Inwyt (meaning "Remorse of Conscience").

In storytelling, revelation is the moment a hidden truth is disclosed to characters or the audience. It is vital because it drives character arc, shifts the narrative's direction, and transforms the audience's understanding , turning passive observation into an active, emotional realization. The function of revelation operates on a few key levels: Catalyzes Character Growth: Revelations—whether discovering a betrayal or a hidden destiny—force characters to react, make active choices, and change their course of action. Manages Narrative Pacing: The rate at which information is unveiled controls suspense. Spacing out revelations keeps the audience hooked and prevents the story from dragging. Provides the Core Meaning: A revelation is not just a plot twist. It is frequently the pinpointable scene where the protagonist—and the viewer—realize a larger thematic truth, giving the entire story its emotional impact. Understanding how to build tension and carefully integrate these truths is crucial.

The word "revelation" literally translates to an "unveiling" or "disclosing". It traces back to the late 14th-century Middle English revelacioun, rooted in Old French and the Latin revēlātiō, noun of action from past-participle stem of revelare "unveil, uncover, lay bare" (see reveal). It is also the standard translation of the Greek term apokalyptein (found in the biblical Book of Revelation/Apocalypse), which combines apo ("off, away from") and kalyptein ("to cover, conceal"). According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the noun revelation was first used in English during the Middle English period (1150-1500), with the earliest recorded evidence appearing around 1384 in the early version of the Wycliffite Bible.

Clandestine elements are crucial in storytelling because they drive conflict, build tension, and force characters into deeper psychological development. By operating in the shadows, these secret actions, hidden motives, or underground movements challenge the status quo and make the narrative stakes much higher. Amplifying Suspense and Tension: When narratives introduce clandestine operations (like secret societies, resistance movements, or covert plots), they create an environment of paranoia and uncertainty. Readers or viewers are placed in a position of dramatic irony—they often know a clandestine act is occurring, but the characters do not. This information asymmetry generates powerful suspense. Driving Plot and Conflict: Hidden agendas and underground forces serve as the ultimate catalysts for change. Because clandestine groups inherently oppose the established order, their secretive nature acts as a disruptive force. Whether it is a rebellion plotting to overthrow a regime or a detective uncovering a secret syndicate, hidden layers push the plot forward as the truth is slowly unraveled. Fleshing Out Character Motivations: Characters involved in secret activities are often forced to wear metaphorical masks. This creates an inherent tension between their true identities (what they believe and feel in private) and their public personas. Clandestine storytelling highlights internal conflict, as characters must constantly weigh the risks of exposure against the necessity of their mission. Exploring Forbidden Themes: Historically and culturally, authors have used clandestine narratives to tackle sensitive or subversive topics. When overt resistance is punished, characters are forced to operate secretly. This allows stories to deeply explore themes like censorship, political corruption, and the fight for autonomy in a way that is compelling and allegorical. Engaging the Audience: A clandestine narrative actively invites the audience to participate in the story. Because things are hidden from view, the audience becomes an investigator, piecing together clues and foreshadowing before the grand reveal. This interactive engagement keeps the reader highly invested in the outcome. Incorporating these hidden, unauthorized, or covert layers elevates a simple plot into a rich, immersive experience that resonates deeply with human psychology.

Clandestine traces back to the mid-16th century, emerging in English from the Middle French word clandestin. It ultimately derives from the Latin clandestinus ("secret or concealed"), which is built upon the Latin adverb clam ("to cover, conceal, or save") and the Latin suffix -stinus. According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the adjective clandestine was first used in English in the mid-16th century. The OED's earliest recorded evidence of the word dates back to 1566 in the writings of Lethington (Sir Richard Maitland). According to the OED, the adverb clandestinely was first used in English in 1632 found in the High Commission Cases. According to the OED, the verb clandestine was first used in English in 1656 in the writings of S. Hunton.

He-man was my son's favorite super hero when he was younger and he'd always go around spouting that phrase - "I have he Power!"

The concept of power in storytelling is foundational because it creates narrative tension,m drives character arcs, and reflects societal structures. Every story is essentially a dynamic interplay of power—whether it’s physical might, political control, emotional manipulation, or internal willpower. Here is how power shapes and drives narrative: Establishes the Conflict: Power disparities set the stage. The classic "David vs. Goliath" or underdog narrative relies on an imbalance of power, forcing the protagonist to challenge the status quo, grow, and overcome systemic or physical odds. Reveals Character: How a character handles power shows who they truly are. It acts as a stress test for morality, exposing whether they are corrupted by control or motivated to protect the vulnerable. Reflects and Shapes Society: Storytellers use narratives to examine and critique real-world power structures. From dystopian warnings like 1984 to fairy tales, narratives highlight who holds control, who is oppressed, and how societies can be changed. Drives the Narrative Arc: Characters with agency (the power to make choices that impact the plot) move the story forward. Shifts in the balance of power create the plot's rising action, climax, and resolution. Engages the Audience: Neuroscience shows that narratives release oxytocin in the brain, fostering deep empathy. When storytellers control the narrative, they possess the power to persuade, mobilize, and shift audience perspectives. The concept that power always demands a cost prevents a narrative from feeling hollow. It maintains character stakes, grounds magical or political elements in reality, and forces protagonists to make agonizing choices. This principle drives internal conflict and organically determines the narrative consequences of every action.

The word power traces back to the Latin root potis (meaning "able" or "powerful"). Evolving through vulgar Latin (The word power traces back to the Latin word potis (meaning "able" or "powerful"). Evolving through Vulgar Latin ( (potēre - "to be able") and Old French (poeir - "ability/to be able"), it was adopted into Middle English as poer and later power. If you see the surname Power, it actually has an entirely different origin; it evolved from Old French and Middle English as an ethnic/habitational name for a "native of the Pays de Poix" (a region in France). According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the noun power was first used in English around the year 1300, during the Middle English period, most notably in the text St. James the Great.. It was borrowed from Anglo-French and Old French (pouair / povoir) and was originally used to denote "ability," "strength," or "might". It refers to the ability, capacity, or official authority to do something. It can also refer to physical strength, energy, or an electrical supply. As a transitive or intransitive verb, "power" dates back to the late 1500s, with its first recorded evidence appearing in 1592, with early instances of the verb initially meaning to "make powerful". The modern sense of the word meaning "to supply with mechanical or electrical power", or with great speed or force, emerged much later, specifically in 1898. Related terms: The word powerful was first recorded in writing around 1450. The word "powerless" was first used in English around 1425.

That was AI generated information, so I'm pretty sure that's safe. I don't think AI will complain or sue you. 🤪

A strategic approach to character development transforms a static cast into dynamic, memorable figures. It ensures every backstory, flaw, and motivation directly serves the narrative arc. This alignment anchors the plot, creates organic conflict, and builds deep emotional resonance with your audience. Why Strategy Drives the Narrative Engine: Plot Synergy: Action-driven plots falter without emotional stakes. Strategic characters tie external events to internal desires, making plot developments feel inevitable rather than forced. Organic Conflict: When you define a character’s worldview, flaws, and triggers, the obstacles they face and the mistakes they make happen naturally, avoiding contrived scenarios. The Character Arc: Strategy allows you to map a clear trajectory from who they are at the start of the story, what they lack in the middle, and who they become at the conclusion. Essential Strategic Components to Map: To craft compelling development, focus on building specific intersections between the internal and external: The Want vs. The Need: The external, tangible goal (e.g., getting a promotion) should clash with their hidden internal necessity (e.g., learning to trust others). Deep Backstory: Don't just list historical facts; isolate the "lie" the character believes about the world because of past trauma, and chart how the story forces them to unlearn it. Concrete Motivations: Every choice a character makes should stem from a deeply held value or fear, giving dialogue and action clear purpose. Practical Approaches to Application: Show, Don't Tell: Instead of expository paragraphs detailing a trait, drop the character into a scenario where their specific strategies or flaws are tested. Embrace Flaws: Give characters contradictions. A hero who is brave but deeply selfish creates immediate tension when faced with a moral choice. Track Progression: Establish anchor points—such as the beginning, midpoint, and climax—to track how the character's perspective shifts as the stakes rise.

The word strategy comes from the ancient Greek word strategos (general or military commander), which is a combination of stratos (multitude, camping army, or that which is spread out") and agos (to lead or leader). In ancient Greece a strategos was an elected military general who possessed both battlefield and political authority. In the 16th-18th century, the term entered French as stratégie and eventually made its way into the English language in the early 19th century as "the art of a general" or "the science of war". According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the English noun "strategy" first appeared in the early 1600s, with its earliest recorded use in print tracing back to 1616. It emerged in English as a direct transliteration of the Greek word strategia (meaning generalship or troop leadership) and was used in John Bingham's English translation of the ancient military treatise Taktika, originally written by the Byzantine Emperor Leo VI. At this time in the early 17th century, the word referred primarily to the office of a general or the overall art of military command. It wasn't until the late 18th and early 19th centuries, notably influenced by the Napoleonic Wars and the writings of military theorists like Carl von Clausewitz, that the term evolved to take on its modern definition of a comprehensive plan of action to achieve a long-term goal. The adjective strategic was first used in English in the late 1700s. The OED’s earliest recorded evidence of the word in print dates back to 1799 in the British Military Library. The verb strategize was first used in English in the 18/30s. The earliest recorded use in the OED database is from 1832, appearing in the Monthly Magazine.

Is this directed at Myr for being late in posting the Word of the Day today through an anology?

In storytelling, submission is a pivotal narrative device used to explore character arcs and power dynamics. It represents a character's yielding to external forces, societal norms, or a higher purpose. Submission drives emotional resonance, forces characters to grow through sacrifice, and establishes the stakes in a conflict. Submission operates across several vital dimensions in storytelling: The Creative Story Arc of "Surrender: In most foundational character arcs, a protagonist begins in a state of resistance. Their submission to the story's central conflict or their own flaws marks the turning point. The "All is Lost" Moment: Protagonists often must submit to the harsh reality of their situation, letting go of their initial, flawed strategies before they can succeed. Redemption: Yielding can represent a humble unlearning of selfishness, as seen when characters abandon their pride for a greater good. Exploring Power Dynamics: Submission highlights the struggle between agency and oppression. Storytellers use it to make readers question the morality of authority. Oppressive Control: Villains demand submission to show their cruelty, driving the protagonist’s need to rebel. Fatal Compliance: Stories like Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Birthmark use unquestioning compliance to critique egotism and fatal societal expectations. Thematic Sacrifice: Characters often submit to a fate greater than themselves, turning tragedy into profound meaning. The act of yielding—whether surrendering one's life, desires, or pride—allows the story to comment on love, duty, and human resilience. Audience Engagement: Effective storytelling requires a degree of submission from the audience. As readers or listeners, we must temporarily suspend our disbelief, yield our critical distance, and surrender emotionally to the world the author has created.

Submission traces back to the Latin submissio(n-), meaning "a letting down" or "a lowering". The word is composed of two primary roots: sub- (a Latin prefix meaning "under" or "below") and mittere (a Latin verb meaning "to send" or "to let go"). When combined into the root verb submittere, it literally translates to "letting down, putting down, or lowering". Over centuries, this literal action of "lowering oneself" took on its modern figurative meanings: Yielding/Obedience (in the 15th century, the word shifted to mean placing oneself under the control or judgment of another) and Presenting for Approval (the meaning "to hand something in for consideration" [like a document or assignment sent to a higher authority] developed from the idea of humbly referring a decision to someone else). It entered the English language in the late 14th century via the Old French word submission. According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the earliest known use of the noun "submission" in English dates back to around 1405. It was used during the Middle English period by the English poet and administrator Geoffrey Chaucer. Initially, it meant "the act of referring a matter to a third party for judgment or decision". By the mid-15th century, the word shifted toward its more common modern usage: the act of yielding to authority, surrender, or humble obedience. The definition of "handing something over for judgment" (like a manuscript or artwork) began to emerge around this same era, derived directly from the Latin submittere.

That's a great idea, Lee. I'm sorry that I didn't think of doing anything like that.

They tend to be productive when they're motivated, just like they were when they were in college.

Thanks, Chris. Michael had a tough time thinking about what gifts to get for the wedding party, but once Devin and he were together they finally came up with what they thought was appropriate and each gift seemed to be well received. Let's hope the wedding goes just as well.

Thanks, db. You're right, the gifts at the rehearsal dinner seemed to be greatly appreciated and the preparations appear to be going well. The next chapter will be about the wedding, so you'll be able to see if everything goes well.

It looks like drs is going to get down with the boys in the next chapter. It will be a very memorable day!

No, I don't think Robert and Melanie's names will come up at this point. This is an occasion to celebrate Michael and Devin's marriage and they'll all be looking at their future, not the past. It may come up during the following week or months, but not during this joyous celebration. And many thanks for that kind compliment at the start of your question.

Chapter 45 – Lead-Up to Our Big Day As he promised, Devin called me on Tuesday, just before I planned on having lunch. “How are things going?” he asked. “They’re going slowly. I called Heritage Auctions, but they can’t just set up an individual auction for us. They have theme auctions planned for sports memorabilia, coins, and Americana, so if we’re lucky we might be able to get squeezed into those auctions for the different items.” “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “Yes, th

Dominant characters—whether protagonists, antagonists, or force-of-nature figures— drive the narrative forward. They dictate the plot, force conflict, and anchor the reader's emotional connection, transforming passive events into a dynamic, compelling journey. Their importance in storytelling can be broken down into five critical pillars: Plot Engine: Events happen to characters, but it is the dominant character's reaction and forward momentum that shape the plot. Without their specific choices and desires, the narrative would stall. Emotional Anchor: Readers form parasocial attachments to characters long before they remember the intricacies of a plot. Strong, dominant personalities prevent reader apathy and keep the audience invested. Thematic Embodiment: The inner journey of the main character brings the theme to life. By observing their struggles, flaws, and ultimate transformations, the audience engages with the underlying message of the story. Conflict Catalyst: Dominant characters often disrupt the status quo. Whether a hero actively fighting injustice or an antagonist aggressively pursuing their goals, they provide the necessary tension to propel the story toward a climax. Structural Throughline: The dominant character serves as the glue for structural beats in storytelling, aligning with major turning points and ensuring the narrative remains cohesive from start to finish.

The word dominant comes from the 15th-century Middle French word dominant, which derives from the Latin dominari (to rule or govern). This Latin verb ultimately stems from dominus, meaning "lord," "master," or "head of a household". According to the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the adjective dominant was first used in English in the mid-1500s. The earliest known recorded use of the word dates to around 1533 in the writings of Giles Du Wes, a musician and royal tutor who taught French to English nobility. The original meaning was rooted in exerting chief authority or command. Over time, the word branched out into several specific fields. General/Biology: Jean-Baptiste Lamarck and later Charles Darwin used it in the 19th century to describe species or languages that spread and supersede others. It was popularized in genetics by Gregor Mendel to describe the trait that masks a recessive one. Music Theory: Although Rameau codified the musical concept (the fifth note of a scale) in the 18th century, English musicologists adopted the term later to describe a note or chord that "dominates" and has a strong pull back to the tonic. Related words: Dominate (verb): First recorded in 1611. Dominance (noun): First recorded in 1823. Autosomal dominant (genetics): First recorded in 1919.