Tag Archives: writing

A Language All Her Own

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J.R.R. Tolkien is revered for the 20+ languages he created for his majestic world of Middle-earth. He even coined the term “Glossopoeia” to describe his brand of language invention. Tolkien got his start in his teens…just like Emi, avid glossopoet and the subject of today’s blog post!

But before we meet Emi, we have another teen to introduce…

Long time readers may remember Hope, our kid guest writer who tested calligraphy sets, launched catapults, and reviewed arts supplies far and near. Hope also has the distinction of being the first kid to grow up in our little library and be accepted into Princeton University! She graduated in the Class of 2024!

Today, it is my distinct pleasure to introduce a new teen writer. Lila is a freshman in high school and our new arts and entertainment desk. Today, she’ll be sharing an amazing discovery she made – a fellow student who invented her own language! Take it away, Lila!

Hello readers! I’m so happy to be here! Imagine my surprise when during a free period in school, I glanced over to see a notebook full of symbols and writings. This intricate script belonged to a student I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for a few years now. Emi is a highly creative friend of mine, so knowing this, it came as no surprise that this page turned out to be part of a language she invented. Intrigued, I felt deeply inspired to learn more and interview her! And thankfully, I learned quite a lot, as Emi provides us with a deeper dive into her language, its purpose, how it works, and more.

Hi Emi! Please tell us a little bit about yourself!

Salutations! I’m Emi, your friendly nyctophile who enjoys illustrating and writing.

Can you explain how your language works, and how you use it in your life?

The thing is, I’m still creating my language. I think it’s more of a code/ language, like how Zac Brewer, the author of The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod, made theirs. The language is called Ximo, meaning SD or Slayer Dialect. Although not associated with the Monster Slayers in my book anymore, the name Ximo will still stand. The overall language is used for the supernaturals in the fake universe I’ve created for my book called The Spiral Universe. The reason I originally said that it’s a dialect is because different parts of that fake world speak the language but change the words up a bit like how there’s Quebecois French and then the French that is spoken in France or how in the Philippines there is Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilocano, Hiligaynon, Waray, etc. Sometimes I try to speak Ximo to my friends, the looks on their faces… absolutely hilarious. One of these days I need to teach them Ximo. I doubt these rules will change, if they do I shall certainly write that in my book, but here are some rules:

If a word contains repeat letters, the extra letters are removed. Like if you have the word “know” in Ximo which is usually kotaaifa if written without the rule. Instead we write it like, kotaifa with one A instead of two because we already knew that there would be another A there because of the I.

Words like “to look” which in Ximo would be, Ioloaiaiko without the rule, usually have a letter that isn’t repeated. Since we already see 2 letter Os in the word, we’d say Ioloaiako.

Verbs have “Io” in front of them.

Xlobi means “fly” in Ximo. Any word in English that ends with “Y” will end with “Bi” in Ximo, with some exceptions of words like adding -ly to adjectives to turn into adverbs. Then that would be “Ra” with the r rolled.

For example, if I wanted to say, “This is Ximo,” in the language, it’s like this:

Thjao q Ximo.

Here are some words:

At: Th
Are: Atnexo
Am: Atza
And: Ja
Is: Q
It: Qu
That: Thja
This: Thjao
These: Thjaok
Those: Thjaoka

Just like how English has contractions in the languages like Isn’t, Aren’t, Doesn’t, Don’t, Ximo also has these but they are different.

Some common ones are:

Aren’t: Atnedansais
Isn’t: Hixinsais
It’s: Hinonsais
Can’t: Zoatnsais
Doesn’t: Moaidaxinsais

Notice how they have sais at the end? That acts like the T in English. The n is added before the ais to make it negative.

What inspired you to create this language?

I have a lot of inspiration actually. The World of Elysia is the fantasy world that Zac Brewer created, my favorite author. They made The Chronicles of Vladimir Tod and many other series I value dearly. They have this code in their book called “Elysian Code.” I guess once I read all the books in those series, I told myself that I needed to write a book. I started writing in 2023 and my first book was Supernatural Control which I haven’t finished yet. My book I’m currently writing is called Blood Lies. Vampires in The World of Elysia speak Elysian code, and write in it, but the pronunciation of the words and how to speak it was always kept a secret. I decided I really wanted my language/code to be able to be spoken regardless of what language a person spoke.

J.R.R. Tolkien is a famous author who created languages for a fictitious world he was building. Is this true for you too, or is your language stand-alone?

My language is specifically for my book series I’m creating/ writing. It’s the main language spoken in The Spiral universe, mostly noted to be spoken in The Spiral City while the various representatives from each house were there. House of Fairies, House of Vampires, House of Elves, not creative names, but it says what House they are from at least. They all speak this language. Humans cannot understand the language. Regardless if they learned Ximo or not, supernaturals can naturally understand it. There is another language I’m making called “Qzklyu” which the demons in the book speak and only the demons can understand it. They can understand Ximo and Qzklyu because their brain is programmed to understand and speak both.

Do you speak any other languages and did that impact how you designed your own language?

I speak English, I’m learning French in school. I’m learning Japanese, Esperanto, Welsh, Mandarin, Turkish, and German on Duolingo. Tagalog is something I’m learning from my Mom and online because my mom is Filipino. And then there is Ximo and Qzklyu that I’m developing and learning to speak and write. Japanese, Tagalog, English, and German have to be the most help developing my languages. Some words are pronounced like in English, the way some words are pronounced in Japanese is also pronounced in there as well. Like “No” or “Mo” or “Ta” is similar in Japanese and is in Ximo and “Th” in English. “Ja” pronunciation like in German.

What are some words of inspiration and/ or practical advice for others who want to create their own languages?

My words of inspiration are something I struggle with; however, they just need to nerd out. Nerd out on what you do. If it’s languages, pursue that, research that, talk about that. Watch videos, say random sounds and gibberish, and eventually you’ll make words. Just be yourself and let other’s know.

Anyway that’s all. Thank you for your time. :D

As we say in Ximo as a farewell,

Ekquio diertu qiz zoatloza.

Many thanks to Lila for conducting the interview, and to Emi for sharing her amazing work! 

Brick and Brickability

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Happy birthday Jane Austen! We’re celebrating this literary titan with a brick-tastic review of LEGO’s “Tribute to Jane Austen’s Books” set, constructed and reviewed by our legendary intern, Melanie Zhang. Take it away, Melanie!

The queen of witty quips herself, Jane Austen, has finally been given the recognition she deserves! The timing was perfect—Katie, Dr. Dana, and I had just been bemoaning the lack of female literary icons amongst our LEGO sets, when we happened upon LEGO’s Tribute to Jane Austen’s Books.

The set is composed of 361 pieces. While apparently meant only for builders 18 and above, I think this is definitely doable for kids as well, with maybe a little bit of help for the trickier parts. The most difficult portion for me personally was the stickers. Fortunately, I only encountered four. Three of them also show scenes from film adaptations of Jane’s books, so I can’t complain.

Jane’s little room came together pretty quickly. It took me around an hour to complete on fast-mode. However, this is definitely a set where you want to take your time and admire all the little bits and pieces as they come together. Once again, LEGO was incredibly creative with how pieces are used. You’ll never guess what are secretly masquerading as piano pedals!

One issue I encountered was that some pieces do not match the color of their instruction booklet counterparts. In particular, some pieces that are depicted as quite reddish in the instructions are more of a brown color in person. The different blue books on Jane’s shelf also gave me a bit of trouble. Fortunately, that was an easy fix, and I was able to carry on building.

The finished product is beautiful to look at, and makes for a pretty good mini-dollhouse as well. In her default position, Jane is facing away from her bookshelf, but she can very easily be standing before it and browsing for her next read.

Another quick readjustment, and she’s contemplating some time looking out the window or playing the piano. The possibilities are endless! Turn the set around, and now Jane is cozied up inside an open book. Back inside on a cold day, Jane could be warming her hands in front of the fire instead. As a side note, the fireplace does wobble a little.

This is a set that I’m sure Lizzie Bennett herself would be proud of. For the burgeoning Jane Austen fan in your life, whether they are fifteen (and being kept away from Bath) or twenty-seven (and feeling like a parental burden), this set will be sure to please.

350 for 50

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Three cheers for this year’s winners of our 350 for 50 contest, now in its 15th year! Young writers were challenged to compose a short, 350-word story that included the sentence “The sound was impossible to ignore.” In addition to having their stories illustrated with original artwork, each winner enjoyed a $50 online literary shopping spree. Congratulations to all!

Illustrations by Aliisa Lee

THE SIREN’S SONG
by Annie Wang, age 10

I know better than this, I told myself. I know better than to sail into a cave with mermaids who can sing you to death. And I know better than to drag my friends into this too. Still, we keep rowing. Each time the oars hit the water’s surface, I feel the siren’s presence. I glance behind my shoulder, and see a green fishtail. We were officially in the siren cave.

The next step was vital. Get tied to the mast for protection. Only then could I listen in safety. Listen as the sirens sang their songs. Unfortunately, before my friends could tie me up, the sirens began to sing, I couldn’t resist. The sound was impossible to ignore. Before anyone could react, I dove headfirst into the water. Behind me, I could hear my friends shouting my name, but the siren’s song swallowed me, and I disappeared.

Immediately, I was thrown into a different world. The sirens sang about my past, and how I became a sailor. The verses were different parts of my life, with one thing in common, the loneliness and feeling of rejection from everyone I knew.

The last verse was different. The sirens didn’t sing about my past. They sang about my future, as if personally calling to me. They sang to me about the world I longed for where everyone loved me, and hugged me like I mattered, even my sister shared her toys with me. My teachers praised me for doing good on homework, and I had someone to sit with during lunch. This alternate universe was everything I had imagined, and it could come true. All I had to do was reach out to the sirens’ outstretched hand and hold on tightly.

The hand wasn’t one of the sirens however. My friends had come to rescue me. But the sirens had already won my trust. I couldn’t be pulled away. I could still join the sirens but, would I sacrifice my friendship for a better future?

THE HALLWAY HOUDINI
by Zachary Wen, age 12

As I stepped out the door of my dorm room, I heard a click behind me…and froze. The sound was impossible to ignore. It was the sound of stupidity. It was the sound of locking yourself out of your own room. I threw my bookbag to the floor, and snapped back to face the door. Filled with dread, I put my hand to the handle, praying it would still be unlocked. It wasn’t.

I felt sick to my stomach, and paced the hallway, thinking of ways to get back in.
My first instinct was to brute force it. Putting my foot against the wall, I pulled forcefully. When the door didn’t budge, I really started to panic.

Luckily, bad ideas were my specialty. Thinking I was some type of 007 agent, I attempted to get into the ventilation shaft. Taking a breath, I jumped up and found a handhold. The only problem was that our dorm rooms weren’t exactly what you’d call “premium residences.” Meaning all ceiling tiles within a five-foot radius fell down in a mess of dust, white powder, and Styrofoam boards. Along with it came a side of unnecessarily loud sounds: clattering, crashing, and smashing.

Our neighbors in room 207 came out, blinking in confusion. They feasted their eyes on the mess.

“Cool,” one of them said, while munching on his Lay’s.

Then their door slammed.

Deciding to clean the mess later, I continued brainstorming ways to get back into the room. Deciding to go with the “international spy” theme, I tried to picklock the door with a paperclip from my class notes .

Recalling knowledge I had acquired during the summer, I wiggled the “pin,” and finally heard a click—the sound of the paperclip getting stuck. Trying to yank it out only got me friction burns. Then, to my surprise, the knob twisted, as if of its own accord. I jumped back in surprise.

The door swung open, I stared into the face of my disoriented roommate, still in his pajamas, a large dollop of shaving cream on chin.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

SOUNDS OF MUSIC
by Shreya Visvanathan, age 14

I stepped on stage, my nerves tingling, my mind a jumble of thoughts. I drew in three long, deep breaths and tried to exhale out all of my worries and angst. I rubbed my sweaty palms and gripped the back of my violin firmly. I tightened my bow to allow for a smooth, melodious tone and plastered a smile on my face. The spotlight was on me now. My first solo concert.

Now remember, a voice echoed in my head, Exactly 8 beats before you come in. I nodded and started counting.

…1…2…3…

I slowly turned my head to look at the audience.

…4…

I squinted ever so slightly only to make out entire rows of hunched heads and drooping shoulders facing lit up screens.

…5…

Not a soul looked at me and I was about to start.

…6…

PHONES! People were on their PHONES! Here I was shaking with fear trying to seek validation from the audience and no one cared enough to look up. All the hours of diligent, intense, repeated practice until the tips of my fingers resembled the rich, dark shade of my crimson dress. What if I didn’t play? Would they know? Or care?

…7…

I closed my eyes. I see musical notes floating above my eyes and the opening refrain playing in my ear. The Beethoven doll that sits on my piano waved his baton at me. I reflect on his determination, despite insurmountable odds, to write beautiful music. Suddenly I realized I owe it to him. I’m playing but a tiny piece of his work, and I owe it to him to get that at least right.

…8…

I smiled genuinely for the first time. My hour of glory.
…

I placed my violin on my shoulder and began.

I confidently struck a chord and gracefully pulled my bow through the strings of my violin to play the opening note. The sound of yearning, the sound of hope, so powerful, so euphonious yet so poignant. The heads moved up like synchronized swimmers and stared right at me.

The sound was impossible to ignore.

#3799F
by Willow Yoo, age 16

She winced as the chip passed into her veined arm, “Do we have to keep doing this so often?” The doctor’s eyes were covered by a plastic shield, his eyes covered as he stood above her. His mouth was set in a firm line, his lab coat pristine without a speck of dirt or stain to be seen.

“It’s your planned monthly chip insert. It will be sore,” The doctor let the droplets of blood fall into a small plastic bag and scribbled #3799F.

“But my mom, she paid for the Plus plan so I didn’t have to do as many chip updates,” Ella protested, feeling her face growing hotter by the second, “She worked extra shifts at the daycare the past four months to be able to afford one semester of Plus.”

“I’m sorry, Miss, but haven’t you heard? Plus is now the same as Regular, the Head has introduced a Lux tier.” The doctor turned away and exited, his lab coat swishing as his squeaky chukkas traced the clean tiles of the floor. The sound was impossible to ignore.

Ella’s vision blurred as she gazed at the harsh slashes of #3799F at the top of her paper, smudged with fat tears, cursing the smiling woman in the advertisement below. She was leaping through a field of dandelions as glistening letters spelled, “Bring out your happiest self with BetterMind, Emotion Regulator©!” The gray bulge in Ella’s arm had been a constant since her mother had noticed her frequent sleeping and mood swings.

“Ella, don’t worry,” Her mother had said, “We’ll get you fixed up right away.” After her mother’s BetterMind app trial with Ella’s first chip implant, she hadn’t looked back.

Ella sat back in the crunchy paper on top of her chair, scrutinizing a transparent panel on the wall across. She got up, ignoring the every-visit-warnings of “Don’t do anything” as she made her way to the mysterious glass. Cautiously reaching up, she rapped on the glass before peering closer.

Staring back at her was a huddle of white lab coats, all smiling coldly.