In other words-
This is a phrase I use a lot. And when I use it, I’m always seeking better or the right words, that will express what I want to say.
I looked up this phrase recently and discovered that the grammarians among us think there are better ways to say this transitional phrase: Simply put; That is to say; Said differently; Stated differently; Otherwise known as; To put it differently; To put the matter another way;
Otherwise; Namely; Put differently; and finally: Alternatively.
I whole-hearted-ly disagree that these bridges to greener grammatical pastures are better than In other words. Reading through each of these offerings as preferential I decided to be really fair and say each one out loud. My criteria for the winner was: 1.) It had to roll off my tongue, and 2.) It needed to be onomatopoetic. Mostly these suggested, better alternative phrases rolled out as if my mouth were full of marbles and sounded either garbled, stiff, or slippery – like mud. In other words, I went back to what sounded better to me: In other words.
stand still and feel
the chill of the wind.
In other words,
let the words soar
like the roaring river.
In other words,
how to begin?
The moment is now.
An old silent pond
A frog jumps into the pond
Splash! Silence again.
But here’s my point. As writers we are all looking, feeling, inching toward words that say it economically and better. Brilliant writers are our ancestral muses. Our stories are words put together that hopefully transport the reader into another world – faraway but close. Outside of ourselves, like going through the looking glass like Alice, or like the Pevensie children stepping into the snowy woods of Narnia.
To laugh, to cry, to be scared, to be moved into another dimension.
If you have pets, you have certainly seen them sitting perfectly still, looking out maybe at the sky, or trees, or. . . who knows what? But what you do know is that they are momentarily transported somewhere else into the cosmos. I’ve watched our little French bulldog named Bertie look faraway for what seems like a long time, then back she’ll come with a roar and run zoomies all over the house with a wild glint in her eye. I wish I could ask her, “Bertie, where did you go?” I have. But honestly, even if she could tell me, I have a suspicion she wouldn’t.
It hit me, like duh! That's what we writers do.
We're word gathers.
After focusing on those important questions another came like a shooting star in the night: What should we name our podcast?
Lots of frankly dumb ideas drifted through my half snoozing mind. Writers Unite, Talking about Writing, What do Writers Really Do? Who Are We Writers? Every time I deleted each failed phrase out of my sleepy brain, I prefaced the next with: In other words. . . It was like crawling around on the floor, in the dark, looking for better words that might leap out of the dark into the light.
So, it came to me. . . The phrase, In other words, is that bridge we all cross going from words that don’t make it to better words that do. It hit me, like duh! That’s what we writers do. We’re word gatherers. We’re always, no matter where we are, or to whom we’re talking, words are the tools of our trade.
And that’s the name for our podcast: In Other Words.