In workshops, I’ll sometimes hear, “I had no idea what this word meant.” I’ll say that having to look something up isn’t bad. You learn a word! But if you’re doing so every other sentence, it’s a problem. There’s also the issue of what an obscure word gains the writer.
Someone I edited used the noun “remit,” as in “That was outside her remit.” Not to brag but I’m a word person—I don’t even bother with the New York Times crossword between Monday and Thursday. After I got my first dictionary at 11, I’d pore over it as if it were an adventure story. But I didn’t know “remit.” The dictionary said: “Chiefly British. An area of responsibility; scope.” The writer, whom I respect, is American. In his defense, he was unaware it was British. My point was it could sound pretentious. His substitute? Ambit (“sphere or scope, as of influence”). I didn’t know that, either—for a moment I thought it might be a typo for “gambit.” We settled on “purview.” So ask yourself as you write if you’re delighting, within reason, in English’s variety to liven up your prose or if you might be seen as showing off. How to tell? It’s a judgment call. And it is your call—just know the consequences.
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