Ew… is that a patch of mildew?
My apologies, dear blog, for abandoning you.
I was never very good at keeping things alive. Let me scrub that mildew off of you and let’s try to start anew.
Today, I spent a good chunk of my life researching how to insert glottal stops into my short story. Surely it can’t be as simple as an apostrophe, I thought, googling frantically. Well, it is. Mission of wasting time—accomplished.
I’m still a little torn about these sneaky little things. There was a time I vowed I’d never have them in my stories because they can be ultra-distracting. They’re probably on everyone’s top ten list of annoying tropes that appear in science-fiction fantasy stories. If they happen to appear in a character’s name, I’ll forget the character’s actual name but remember that it had a glottal stop in it and that the narrator in my head probably hacked out an imaginary hairball while trying to pronounce the name. I will then proceed to hold a grudge against that character whenever they appear on the page, a grudge that only promises to grow every time I stumble anew on that little extra floating hook in their name. Spoken aloud, it adds a wonderfully interesting and distinctive flavor to the words. But, written down to be read, the glottal stop can be downright annoying.
Anyway, as a writer striving to be a responsible user of glottal stops in writing I resolutely kept them out of any names. I have, however, inserted them into my fantasy version of ‘Mother’ and ‘Father’ to give my civilization a Polynesian flavor. Then, to prevent my complete degeneration into a chicken clucking around the submit button, I sent my story off into the void, ‘okinas and all.
I have this sinking feeling of regret, now, that the editors will feel that I used the glottal stop apostrophe in a trite manner as a short cut to exotifying my story or something. Let’s hope I did a good enough job so they don’t think I savaged the apostrophe.
Ah, well. What’s done is done. No point in fretting.