A Flummery of Sorts

(A small note: this post runs a bit long- make sure to click the button at the bottom to read the whole thing)

Hey, hi, hello- and welcome back. Or, if this is your first, welcome to A Word and a Thing.

I haven’t visited this exercise in a few months- a casualty of editorial projects, book deadlines, and our move from Miami to Michigan. But we are here now, and that’s all that matters.

For those unfamiliar, this began as a small creative exercise I made for myself when I first launched The Cartelier- a tool to get out of one’s head and onto the page. Maybe learn a new word. Draw something. See what happens. There are no real rules, which is precisely why it works.

It has also become something else: a way of thinking- a method, really, for following a thought as far as it will go.

Because I am, it seems, on a never-ending merry-go-round of learning- and obscure, outlandish words sit very comfortably at the center of it.

So, for today’s exercise, I began with a word:

Flummery.

My Notes app - and now, a newly established vocabulary journal (a new addition to my life) - is an amalgamation of the utterly random. When I encounter a word I love, I save it. This was such a word.

And what a word it is.

Flummery is, quite simply, a delightfully unexpected doozy. The kind of word that opens a door, and then another, and then several more.

Because within its definition, another word appeared. And then another. And suddenly, this was no longer a word- it was a world.

This tends to be how these exercises unfold: I look something up, fall into a small rabbit hole, learn something adjacent, and then something entirely unrelated.

Procrastination? Possibly.
Creative process? Also possibly.
Best not to overthink it.

Now - before we proceed, a small confession.

I began writing this on one day, using one dictionary, and finished it using another - specifically, Merriam-Webster. So what you’ll see in the sketchbook pages reflects the latter, but I feel quite loyal to the first definition I found… so we’ll begin there.

Flummery (noun):
• insincere praise or ornamental speech
• a sweet, soft pudding once made with milk, oats, or fruit

Two definitions, wildly at odds - and therefore, perfect.

Digging a bit deeper, I learned the word comes from the Welsh llymru, a sour oatmeal dish. Over time, its meaning softened… and then, rather wonderfully, soured again- evolving into decorative nonsense, empty compliments, and unsubstantial talk.

I love this kind of evolution. There is a particular delight in small, seemingly inconsequential things - like when a waiter brings a tiny pitcher of milk with your coffee, or when a new pen has just the right click.

A word that once described dessert and now describes insincerity feels like exactly the sort of detail that exists purely for internal glee.

Or does it?

The older I get, the more I find that these small discoveries carry disproportionate joy.

And so, usually at this point, I would turn to the “thing.”

But this time, it wasn’t so simple.

Because as I wrote down the definition, another word emerged - and then another- and soon I wasn’t drawing a thing so much as wandering through a kind of linguistic theatre.

I discovered “First Known Use,” which led me to 1606- which led me to other words from that year - which led me, naturally, to cothurnus: a high, thick-soled boot worn by actors in Greek and Roman tragedy…but also a word used to describe the elevated, slightly stilted tone of ancient drama.

So what began as flummery became mummery, became merrymaking, became pantomime- an entire cast of characters assembling themselves perfectly on the pages of my sketchbook.

And somewhere in there: a man who has lost his salt and pepper shaker.

A woman balancing a cake like a crown.

A court of common pleas.

A small, peculiar world.

I’m not entirely sure what it is yet- a character, a poem, a book- but it feels like something.

So, here now, is the rest of my illustrated stream of consciousness. A small glimpse inside my brain.

You may take it as an invitation- to find your own word and a thing- or simply to wander through mine.