The Mechanics of Redefinition

Let's talk about how words are defined--and redefined.

This morning I was listening to the radio, and the "happy people" (as I call the Christian radio personalities) were talking about the definition of success. Listeners called in and explained briefly what they thought "success" meant.

That got me thinking: how do we "define" concepts such as success? When you think about it, it's kind of weird that humans feel a constant need to redefine words that already have well-accepted meanings. Of course, the "happy people" weren't asking listeners to define success--anyone with a dictionary or Internet access can do that. Here, look:

Success (n) 1. the accomplishment of an aim or purpose 2. the attainment of fame, wealth, or social status.

Any smart aleck could have called in and said this, but he didn't, because "define success" is neither an interesting question, nor the question being asked. What the personalities meant was "What does success mean to you?" Not a definition, but a redefinition.

Of course, once again, a smart aleck could call in and say, "for me, success is a kind of bean," or something equally ridiculous. But that is still not what the personalities are asking, and we all know it. We redefine success in terms of the original definition. Maybe not so much "what does success mean to you?" as "what means success to you?"

Here we enter the realm of denotation versus connotation. Denotation refers to the straight definition of a word. Connotation is the collection of associations tied to the word. "What does success mean to you?" is a question of connotation. Some words have collective positive or negative connotations that apply to most of society (something writers must consider when picking synonyms that technically mean the same thing but give off totally different vibes). But every word has personal connotations for the speaker, just as different scents bring up unique memories for each individual. For example, I like the smell of firework smoke, because it reminds me of my family's many Independence Day celebrations. Some people may not like that smell, because they had a bad experience with pyrotechnics or they just don't enjoy the scent of sulfur.

Another way of phrasing the success question is, "at what point in an endeavor do you consider it a success?" The answer to this question varies for everyone, because it's a personal standard, not the definition of a word. Here's a short writing exercise: Define success in terms of personal connotation. In other words, explain in a paragraph or less at what point in an endeavor you call it a success.

For me, success is when I have done my absolute best. Even if it isn't enough to reach my goal, it is all I could possibly do. I have done my due diligence; thus, I have in a sense succeeded.

Define success. Define failure, happiness, virtue, inspiration, suffering, death, life, art. Great philosophers such as Aristotle have wrestled with these definitions. It's a self-exploratory exercise in thinking as well as writing.

Here's one more example (and a practical application). In my current WIP, my main character redefines invisibility:

True invisibility wasn’t achieved when people saw through you, but when they never bothered looking past the surface.

In your stories, each character may define the same word differently, and that can cause conflict. It sure as heck causes conflict in real life. What is a woman? What is equality? What is reality? These words could have as many connotations as success and failure. But what matters in the end is by what standards we determine our personal redefinitions. You cannot argue over the definition of a word if some higher concept of what that word should mean--what it truly refers to--doesn't exist. We can't figure out at what success means to us until we know what success is in general--until we recognize the universal quality of a word that is the basis for all redefinitions. Truth, if you will. Or logos.