100 Words That Changed Meaning — And What Your Readers Hear Now

Every so often, an argument breaks out online about the word decimate.

One side says it means to kill one in ten, because that's what the Romans meant by it, and everyone using it to mean “nearly wiped out” is simply wrong. The other side says the dictionary disagrees, and that nobody complains that December isn't the tenth month. The thread runs to hundreds of comments. A few years later it starts again somewhere else, with new people, and the same arguments.

Here's the part that rarely comes up. Roman decimatio was a punishment. A legion that mutinied or ran was split into groups of ten, lots were drawn, and the other nine killed the tenth man. It was something you did to your own soldiers. So when a novelist wants to write that an enemy army was “decimated,” neither meaning fits the scene. The “correct” one was never about enemies at all. And English has been using the word for heavy losses since the 1600s, so the “new” meaning is nearly four hundred years old.

That's the thing about words. They move, all the time, quietly, and nobody is in charge of it. Dictionaries don't decide what words mean. They record what people are using them to mean, and then they update. A word means whatever most of your readers currently think it means, and that shifts under your feet whether you approve or not.

For a writer, that has two practical consequences. Sometimes a word you've used correctly your whole life no longer means, to your reader, what you meant by it. And sometimes a word is perfectly clear, but it stamps a date on your book as surely as a rotary phone on the kitchen wall.

This list is a hundred words that have moved. Some moved centuries ago and make good stories. Some are moving right now, and those are the ones worth watching in your own manuscript. For each one you'll find what it used to mean and, more usefully, what your reader hears today.

How Words Move

Nearly every change on this list falls into one of four directions:

Wider. The word came to cover more than it used to. Dog was once one breed.
Narrower. The word came to cover less. Meat was once any food.
Souring. The word picked up a worse meaning. Silly once meant blessed.
Sweetening. The word picked up a better meaning. Nice once meant ignorant.

Two other patterns show up often enough to get their own sections. Words that mean “a lot” wear out from overuse and keep needing replacements. And some words outlive the thing they described, so we still “dial” phones that have no dial.

None of these directions is decay. They're how every living language behaves, and English behaves that way faster than most, because it borrows from everywhere and never gives anything back.

One warning before you start. Where a word came from is not what it means. That mistake has a name, the etymological fallacy, and it's the thinking behind “decimate means one in ten.” By that logic, every sinister villain in fiction is a left-handed farmhand. The origins below are the fun part. What your reader hears is what matters.

Is there a word in your manuscript that doesn't mean what you think it means?

Watch Training #653: Words Don't Stand Still!

We go beyond the word list to show how to catch words that confuse readers or date your book, and include a Drift Kit worksheet.

an image of a book on a desk with a nautical background, and pages and letters flying off of the page.

Moving Right Now: The Ones to Watch

These are the dangerous ones, because they're mid-drift. Some of your readers hear the traditional meaning, some hear the newer one, and both groups think you made the mistake. You can't win these arguments on the page, so the safest move is usually to use a different word.

begs the question: Traditionally a term from logic: an argument that assumes what it's trying to prove. Most readers now hear raises the question. Write the one you mean.
bemused: Traditionally bewildered, confused. Many readers now hear wryly amused. Write puzzled or amused, whichever you mean.
decimate: Originally to kill one in ten (of your own soldiers, as a punishment). Your reader hears destroyed most of. Use routed, crushed, gutted, or give the actual number.
disinterested: The standard meaning is impartial, having nothing to gain. Many readers now hear not interested. (Oddly, that was one of the word's earliest senses in the 1600s, before impartial won out.) Write impartial or uninterested.
enervate: Means to drain of energy, to weaken. Because it sounds like energize, a lot of readers assume it means the opposite. Write drain or exhaust.
enormity: Traditionally great wickedness, as in “the enormity of the crime.” Many readers now hear enormous size. Write atrocity or scale.
factoid: Coined by Norman Mailer in 1973 (in his book Marilyn) for something that isn't true but gets treated as fact because it appeared in print. Most readers now hear a small, trivial fact. Say which you mean.
fortuitous: Traditionally happening by chance, lucky or not. Many readers now hear lucky. Write by chance or lucky.
fulsome: For about three centuries it meant excessive, overdone, often insincere: “fulsome praise” was not a compliment, and usage guides still insist on that. But its oldest meaning (1200s) was abundant, and since the 1960s it has been drifting back that way, so many readers now hear generous. Write gushing or generous.
literally: Originally to the letter, actually. Now also a common intensifier meaning very, and it has been for a long time. Dickens and Twain both used it that way. Readers will split on whether you're being careless or colorful.
noisome: Means offensive, harmful, foul-smelling. It's related to annoy, not noise. Plenty of readers will assume a noisome crowd is a loud one.
nonplussed: Traditionally so baffled you can't respond. Many readers now hear the near-opposite: unbothered, unfazed. Write stunned or unfazed.
penultimate: Means second to last. It's increasingly used as a fancy ultimate, meaning the very best or final one. Readers who know the difference will stop reading to wince.
peruse: Traditionally to read carefully and thoroughly. Many readers now hear to skim or browse. Write study or skim.
restive: The sense usage guides call correct is resisting control, unruly, like a horse refusing to move. (Earlier still, in the 1400s, it meant standing still.) Many readers now hear restless. Close enough that it rarely confuses anyone, but know which you mean.
reticent: Means unwilling to speak, reserved, and dictionaries still treat that as the correct sense. It's increasingly used to mean reluctant to do anything at all, and careful readers notice. Write tight-lipped or reluctant.

Wider: The Meaning Grew

arrive: From Latin roots meaning to come to the shore. Your reader hears reaching anywhere at all.
bird: Originally a young bird, a nestling. Fowl was the general word. Your reader hears any bird.
business: Originally the state of being busy, even anxiety. Your reader hears commerce, or any matter at all (“none of your business”).
cupboard: Originally a literal board (a table or shelf) for cups. Your reader hears any cabinet.
dog: In Middle English, dogge seems to have meant one particular powerful breed; hound was the general word. Your reader hears any dog at all.
google: A company name from the late 1990s. Your reader hears search the internet, with whatever search engine they use.
guy: Originally an effigy of Guy Fawkes, burned every November 5th in England. Then a badly dressed man, then any man. Your reader hears a man, or in “you guys,” anyone.
holiday: Originally a holy day, a religious feast. Your reader hears any day off, including a beach week.
journey: From French journée, a day: a day's travel, or a day's work. Your reader hears any trip, of any length.
manuscript: Literally written by hand. Your reader hears any author's draft, even one that has never touched paper.
pen: From Latin penna, feather, because pens were quills. Your reader hears a ballpoint.

Narrower: The Meaning Shrank

accident: Originally anything that happens, especially by chance. Your reader hears a mishap, usually a harmful one.
corpse: From Latin corpus, a body, and for a few centuries English used it for living bodies as well as dead ones. Your reader hears a dead one.
deer: Originally any animal, a bit like German Tier today. Your reader hears one particular animal with antlers.
disease: Literally dis-ease, a lack of ease, any discomfort. Your reader hears illness.
fowl: Originally any bird. Your reader hears chickens, ducks and other poultry.
girl: In Middle English, a child or young person of either sex, though already more often a girl. Your reader hears a young female.
hound: Originally any dog. Your reader hears a hunting dog.
liquor: Originally any liquid. Your reader hears alcohol.
meat: Originally any food. “Meat and drink” meant food and drink, which is why sweetmeats are candy. Your reader hears animal flesh.
science: Originally knowledge of any kind. Your reader hears the natural sciences: chemistry, biology, physics.
starve: Originally to die, by any means. Your reader hears to die of hunger, or just to be very hungry.
wife: Originally a woman, married or not. You can still hear it in midwife and fishwife. Your reader hears a married woman.

Souring: The Meaning Got Worse

awful: Originally full of awe, awe-inspiring. Your reader hears very bad.
crafty: Originally skillful, clever, learned (its Old English root meant strong, powerful). Your reader hears sly, or someone who knits.
cunning: Originally knowing, learned, skillful. Your reader hears sly and deceitful. (American English also developed a sweeter sense, charmingly cute, as in “a cunning little hat.” It sounds old-fashioned now, but dictionaries still list it.)
egregious: Originally outstanding, distinguished: literally standing out from the flock. Your reader hears outrageously bad.
hussy: A contraction of housewife. Your reader hears an insult.
idiot: From Greek for a private person, a layman: someone not in public life. Your reader hears a fool.
knave: Originally a boy, a servant. Your reader hears a scoundrel, or a playing card.
lewd: Originally lay, not clergy, and since laypeople were assumed to be unlettered, also unlearned, common. Your reader hears obscene.
officious: Originally eager to help, dutiful. Your reader hears meddlesome and bossy.
pedant: Originally a schoolmaster, a tutor. Your reader hears someone who corrects everyone's grammar online. (If that's you, this list is full of ammunition. Please use it gently.)
silly: Originally blessed, happy, then innocent, then harmless, pitiable and weak, and finally, by the 1570s, foolish. Your reader hears foolish.
sinister: Latin for left, on the left side. Your reader hears menacing. Left-handed readers have heard all the jokes.
smug: Originally neat, trim, well-groomed. Your reader hears self-satisfied.
villain: Originally a farmhand, a peasant (it shares a root with villa). Your reader hears the bad guy.
vulgar: Originally of the common people, ordinary. Your reader hears crude. (The Vulgate Bible was simply the Bible in common Latin.)

Sweetening: The Meaning Got Better

enthusiasm: In the 1600s and 1700s, religious fanaticism, and it was an insult. Your reader hears eagerness.
fond: Originally foolish. Your reader hears affectionate.
knight: Originally a boy, a servant. Your reader hears an honored warrior.
marshal: From an old Germanic word for a horse servant, a stable hand. Your reader hears a high-ranking officer.
minister: Latin for servant. Your reader hears a member of the clergy or a government official.
mischievous: Originally unfortunate, disastrous, then harmful. The playful sense only arrived in the late 1700s. Your reader hears playfully naughty.
nice: From Latin nescius, ignorant. It spent centuries wandering through foolish, timid, fussy, dainty and precise (you can still hear that last one in “a nice distinction”) before settling on pleasant in the late 1700s. Your reader hears pleasant.
pretty: Originally cunning, crafty. Your reader hears attractive.
quaint: Originally clever, skillfully made, ingenious. Your reader hears charmingly old-fashioned.
shrewd: Originally wicked, malicious (it's related to shrew). Your reader hears clever and practical.
sophisticated: Originally adulterated, not pure: wine could be sophisticated by mixing in something cheaper. Your reader hears refined and worldly.
terrific: Originally causing terror. Your reader hears great.

Worn Out: Intensifiers That Burned Out

Words that mean “a lot” get used so often that they stop meaning much. That's why “very tired” is weaker than “exhausted.” You're leaning on a word that's been worn smooth. Specific words don't wear out that way, because they're doing a job no other word can.

amazing: Amaze once meant to stun, stupefy, bewilder, even to terrify. Your reader hears wonderful.
awesome: In the 1590s, full of reverent awe; by the 1670s, inspiring awe, even dread. Your reader hears pretty good. A decent sandwich can be awesome.
epic: Originally having to do with a long heroic poem (and then, by the early 1700s, the poem itself). Your reader hears very impressive, or a very long day.
fantastic: Originally existing only in fantasy, imaginary. Your reader hears excellent.
incredible: Originally not believable. Your reader hears very good.
really: Originally in reality, actually. Your reader hears very.
terribly: Originally in a way that causes terror. Your reader hears very, or apologetically polite (“terribly sorry”).
totally: Originally wholly, completely. Your reader hears casual emphasis, and possibly a Californian.
tremendous: Originally causing trembling, dreadful. Your reader hears huge, or great.
very: Originally true, real (from Old French verai). “Very God of very God” means true God. Your reader hears an all-purpose intensifier.

Changed Completely

Some words traveled so far from their origin that the original meaning survives only in a phrase or two, if at all.

broadcast: Originally a farming term: to sow seed by scattering it widely by hand. Your reader hears radio, TV, or streaming.
bully: In the 1500s, sweetheart, darling, then a fine fellow (you can still hear it in “bully for you”). Your reader hears someone who torments others.
clue: Originally clew, a ball of thread, like the one Theseus followed out of the labyrinth. Your reader hears a hint, which is what every mystery writer is laying down.
computer: From the 1600s, a person who computes, often someone employed to do calculations by hand. Your reader hears a machine.
December: From Latin decem, ten: the tenth month of the old Roman calendar, which started in March. Your reader hears the twelfth month, and nobody minds.
explode: From Latin, to drive an actor off the stage by clapping and hissing. Your reader hears blow up. The old sense lingers in “an exploded theory.”
let: Once meant to hinder, the opposite of today's meaning. It survives in “without let or hindrance” and in tennis, where a “let” is an obstructed serve. Your reader hears allow.
manufacture: Literally made by hand. Your reader hears made by machine, in a factory. That's close to the opposite.
novel: From Italian novella, a new thing, a short tale. In the 1560s it meant one short story in a collection; the long-fiction sense took hold in the 1600s. (A separate, older novel meant a novelty or news.) Your reader hears a long work of fiction, which is probably why you're here.
prove: Originally to test. That's what “the exception proves the rule” means: the exception tests the rule. The same sense survives in “proving ground” and “the proof is in the pudding.” Your reader hears to demonstrate that something is true.

Retronyms: Old Things With New Names

A retronym is a new name for an old thing, invented because something newer came along and took the plain word. They're a record of the moment the world changed.

acoustic guitar: Just a guitar, until electric guitars arrived.
analog clock: Just a clock, until digital ones.
brick-and-mortar store: Just a store, until online shopping borrowed the old building phrase “brick and mortar” to name the physical kind.
film camera: Just a camera, until digital cameras, and then phones.
landline: Just a phone, until cell phones. The word itself is older (telegraph lines in the 1860s), but cell phones put it in everyone's mouth.
print book: Just a book, until ebooks. Our own industry added this one to the language in about twenty-five years.
snail mail: Just mail, until email. The phrase turns up now and then earlier, but email is what made it stick.

Fossils: The Word Outlived the Thing

These words are perfectly understood, which is exactly why they're easy to miss. They survive as idioms long after the object is gone. Some are harmless. Others will date a book, especially one for young readers, who may never have seen the original.

cc: Carbon copy, made with a sheet of carbon paper in a typewriter. Your reader hears copy someone on an email, and many have never seen carbon paper.
dashboard: Originally a board on the front of a horse-drawn carriage that stopped mud “dashed” up by the horses' hooves. Your reader hears the front of a car, or a screen full of statistics.
dial: To “dial” a number comes from the rotary dial on old telephones (the word itself is far older, from sundials). We still “dial” a number by tapping a screen.
footage: From feet of film, the way movie film was measured. Your reader hears any video clip, even one on a phone.
glove compartment: Named for the driving gloves early motorists kept in it. Your reader hears the place with the car manual and old napkins.
hang up: From hanging the earpiece back on its hook. A phone call now ends with a red button.
rewind: The word is three hundred years old (1717) and meant any winding back. But for most readers it conjures a cassette or videotape, so it carries a whiff of the 1980s. Your reader hears go back, in any sense.

What to Do With This List

You don't need to memorize any of it. Keep it in a tab, and use it the way you'd use a map of a harbor with shifting sandbars: to see where you might run aground.

When you're revising and a word gives you a moment's pause, ask three questions:

Will my reader know it?
Does it mean what I mean, to them?
Will it still mean that in five years?

A word that fails one of those gets rewritten, not defended. That's all the “Moving Right Now” section really asks of you. You don't have to win the argument about nonplussed. You just have to write the sentence nobody can misread.

If you want to check a word yourself, Merriam-Webster's Time Traveler shows you the words first recorded in print in any given year. Type in your birth year and see what was born with you. For how a word's meaning shifted over time, the Online Etymology Dictionary is free and very readable. And if your library card gives you access to the Oxford English Dictionary, you have the gold standard for free.

One caveat for all of them: a “first used in print” date is a rough boundary, not a birth certificate. People said most words out loud for years before anyone wrote them down, and those dates move when older evidence turns up.

Related glossaries:

Author Website Words · Web Words for Writers · From Serif to Script