“Hold your horses,” my Scottish granny used to say (she was a lover of all things Western, although she never traveled further west than Texas or Minnesota). As all my novels take place in the American West, there’s bound to be some slang thrown in. From “itchin’ to go North” in Eliza Waite to “cinch up” in Answer Creek to “hotter than a burnt boot” in Hardland, there’s an undercurrent of Western slang in all my work.
How to use slang in fiction? How much is enough? How much is too much? And what about vernacular and idiom? Enough? Too much?
One need not turn any further than Mark Twain for this argument. I’d bet five beans in the wheel that half of us would have Twain’s back as the best example of slang/vernacular/idiom and the other half would take issue with his use of language. Without a doubt, Twain is the first American author to use Southern vernacular throughout his narrative with plenty of slang and idiom thrown in for good measure. To some, it’s genius; to others, it might be labeled a distraction.
According to the University of Virginia’s “Mark Twain and His Times,” a collaborative effort of the Department of English at UVA, Huckleberry Finn has “been in trouble” since its publication in 1885. Hemingway said it was the “one book” from which “all American literature” owes a debt to, although many of Twain’s contemporaries viewed it as “coarse” and “racist.” It was banned almost as soon as it was published and has continued to be banned off and on for 138 years. Still, Huckleberry Finn remains near the top of novels read in U.S. high schools (various sources).
Let’s look at Twain’s language (it goes without saying that slang and vernacular have no place in academic or formal writing unless the topic expressly addresses the subject). Using slang in fiction, and in dialogue in particular, has the ability to bring the reader right into the narrative.
This, from Huck himself: “What’s the use you learning to do right, when it’s troublesome to do right and ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same?” Here, we hear a young boy confronting his own better/worst angels as he wrestles earnestly with doing right vs. wrong.
This is from Jim, Huck’s African American companion: “Sometimes you gwyne to git hurt, en sometimes you gwyne to git sick, but every time you’s gywne to git well agin.” Here, we picture Jim, without description, as he imparts a universal truth
And this from Huck’s Pap: “Thinks I, what is this country a-coming to? It was ‘lection day, and I was about to go and vote, myself, if I warn’t too drunk to get there, but when they told me there was a State in this country where they’d let that n***** vote, I drawed out. I says I’ll never vote again.” Here, again from language only, we hear the words of a drunk bigot, prejudice dripping from his lips. Arguably, the language is brilliant. And arguably, it’s distracting (and disturbing).
I canvassed several peers—critique partners, authors, editors, and proofreaders—to ask the following:
How much slang/vernacular/idiom is enough to bring time/place/mood/character alive?
Conversely, how much is too much?
“It depends on the reader and how complicated the vernacular and how unfamiliar the slang,” one author responded. “It’s a matter of balance—not too much, just enough to give it flavor.”
A proofreader weighed in to say it’s not distracting if you pepper your manuscript with slang/vernacular, ie. dropping the final “g” in words (givin’ you a hard time, workin’ your tail off) or using an occasional expletive for oomph, as long it’s intentional and not used indiscriminately.
An editor who’s partial to foreign fiction contends the essence of a place—especially through language—is what makes different worlds jump off the page and challenge perspectives.
With the rise of sensitivity readers, manuscripts that once might have passed muster with editors without a second thought are getting a thorough going over. The danger lies, however, in the manuscript being watered down for the sake of not wanting to offend.
Imagine if Huck had used proper grammar (“What is the use of learning to do right . . . ?”) or Jim had said, “Sometimes you might get hurt and sometimes you might get sick, but every time you’ll get well again” or Pap had said, “What is this country coming to?” It just rings flat.
I’m in the camp that appropriate slang/vernacular/idiom must be present in manuscripts for historical accuracy, especially in historical fiction and Western literature. My advice: used intentionally and creatively, especially in dialogue, use of period slang and vernacular and idiom help manuscripts find legs. (Note: If you use racial or ethnic slurs, consider including a footnote in your end pages, i.e. “While I do not condone the use of slurs used in the manuscript, I am unwilling to whitewash history.”)
Some of my favorite Western sayings, A-Z:
*Gleaned from The Cowboys, by William Dale Jennings, Cowboy Slang, by Edgar R. “Frosty” Potter, and other references
Use of language—verbal and written—is an argument as old as time itself and I’m sure as shootin’ we won’t settle it here. Did I let the cat of the bag? The bullet out of the chamber? Maybe so. But I argue that, like anything of importance, use of language begs to be talked about and debated. Especially by authors.
Write me at contact@ashleysweeneyauthor.com with ideas you’d like to see covered in upcoming blogs.
Until next time, Happy Writing!
Ashley
Ashley E. Sweeney is the winner of the 2017 Nancy Pearl Book Award for her debut novel, Eliza Waite. A native New Yorker, she is a graduate of Wheaton College in Norton, Massachusetts, and resides in Tucson. Answer Creek, released in May 2020, is her second novel. Her third novel, Hardland, is set in the Arizona territory at the beginning of the 20th century. It was released on September 13, 2022.
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