No longer in use
According to Webster's 11th Collegiate Dictionary, the phrase ALL RIGHT predates ALRIGHT by sixty-some years (1819 vs. 1887).ALL RIGHT, as an adverb to express agreement, began usage in 1837.
Today, more than 100 years from ALRIGHT's beginning, the single word is often considered poor style. But the use of ALRIGHT persists, most often found in journalistic and business writing, as well as in fiction dialogue.
When I proofread or copyedit, I am always on the lookout for those compound and combined words (such as lookout, copyedit and proofread) that can be so troublesome. Improper forms of these English language anomalies occur even in published books. When do you use the hyphen? When are the words combined or separated? There are no reliable rules.
Single-word combinations and compound words can have different meanings, such as workout (n) or work out (v); freehand or free hand, wind bag or windbag. It is important to use the proper spelling to be certain readers know what you're talking about.
If you type a word as compound, and the spellchecker (not spell checker, although spell check (v) is correct) gives it a red line (not to be confused with redline, which refers to the upper limit of acceptability), go to the real traditionally-bound, turn-the-page dictionary to see which spelling gives the meaning you want. Check, then double-check those pesky words to get your manuscript in the best possible form.
The following are correctly spelled, although they are often misspelled in publications. Do you see a pattern?
(Not)
airship, air force, airhead, air conditioner (n), air-conditioning (n), breakeven (n), break-even (adj), cutback, doorjamb, dark-haired, shorthaired, fair-haired, longhaired, long-sleeved, long johns, chuck wagon, street-smart (the same meaning as streetwise), longtime (adj.), long-term (adj.), long-standing (adj.), anklebone, cheekbone, hip bone, wellborn, well-bred, well built, cross-legged, crossover, crosscut, cross section, nerve-racking (also spelled nerve-wracking), landgrab (n), land-grabber (n), windowsill, windowpane, window shade, workday, pent-up, streetlight, majordomo, major general, searchlight, shoreline, workpeople, townspeople, firsthand, neckband, make-believe, make-do, makeover, make way, pinprick, wingspan, midday, midyear, mid-afternoon, day-to-day, show-and-tell, short-circuit (v), short circuit (n), wide-eyed, openmouthed.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg (not ice berg).
These two writing elements can be useful if used carefully.
Problems can arise with both of these elements if they are overused or encompass too much of the text. The above-mentioned supernova simile was set up several paragraphs before the phrase with several space references intervening; by the time the "special" phrase arrived, the analogy seemed tired.
Are your characters killing your history with their words? That could be happening if you aren't careful with your vernacular. Vernacular refers to those words that are native to a region, a people, or an era. The meanings of some words change, and some words used today didn't even exist in the 19th century.
I had always been aware of this, but until a few years ago I never realized how jarring a wrong-era word could be in text. At that time I took an assignment as rewrite editor for a children's historical fiction book. The setting was the Revolutionary War, and I carefully reworked the story and characters for that era. The company had wanted 15,000 - 17,000 words, and although my revised manuscript met that criterion, the story was shortened. An in-house editor assumed that task, and I didn't see the book until months later when a copy of the finished product arrived at my door. I gave it a read and came across the phrase in dialogue "You'll be joining too if Major Ward okays you."
Okays you? Surely I hadn't written that. I was certain that the word OK or okay wasn't in use until the 19th century.
At my computer, I pulled up the manuscript file I had sent to the publisher. Okays you was not there. Neither were other words of dialogue, such as impressive (used as an exclamatory) and protective barrier rather than redoubt. But okays you bothered me the most. I grabbed my dictionary. Sure enough, this word (and all its derivatives) was of 19th century coinage---not something an 18th century character would say.
I'm certain fourth or fifth grade readers will not be bothered by this glitch, but a misused word in historical fiction can garner negative responses from knowledgeable readers and reviewers. Mistakes are easy to make. In the last century, we have been bombarded by a variety of frontier stories and historical works in all forms: books, documentaries, movies, television shows both serious and snide, well researched and sloppy. Misinformation abounds. Just as an elementary school reader will process 'okays you' without blinking an eye, so have fiction writers of history often used words without thinking--without checking.
The "cowboy" era (1867-1900) has always been a favorite of readers and writers alike, and words associated with that time have permeated writing about times prior to that period. Is what we read always right, and is what we write correct? Here are some words to test your knowledge of often-used vernacular. chaps (as clothing), cowboy boots, cowboy hat, cowpoke, dogies, double-dealing, giddap (giddyap), hoopla, jeans, lariat, latigo, shill, shootout, sidekick, tarp, tomfoolery, waddies (referring to cowboys), yahoo.
The words in use prior to 1870 are: chaps, cowpoke, double-dealing, jeans, lariat, tomfoolery and yahoo. Yahoo goes back to the 18th century, and jeans is from two centuries before that. Of the remaining words, only dogies, hoopla, and latigo were in use prior to 1890. The terms cowboy hat (and boots) and shootout that today give an instant western image, are of recent vintage, with shootout popping up in the 20th century.
Therefore, an 1872 rider should not say "Giddyap [c. 1897], horse; we have be there for the shootout!" Also incorrect would be a California forty-niner reporting, "My sidekick [c. 1906] and me found gold at our first dig." Nor would someone before 1887 refer to his sideburns, or speak of an angry person as blowing a gasket (c. 1889). [Other words to check: glassies (marbles), long johns, mystique, potbelly stove, six-shooter (as opposed to six-gun), pushy, underdog.]
This does not mean that a writer whose backdrop is the 1870s should feel restricted to using words only available at that time. An author's narrative voice does not have to ascribe to the language of the era. As long as narration is consistent in tone and language, it will be effective (A narration that has the tone of a pensive philosopher should not veer off into down-home storyteller language). But correct vernacular is necessary in dialogue. Characters must adhere to the language, be it proper English or slang, of the day.
For instance, the reasoning of an 1860s character may be described in narration using these words: The whole wonderful affair enticed Barthelia to study the mores of her benefactors. But do not use that 1890s word, mores, in dialogue. Barthelia wouldn't know to say "It was wonderful! That's when I began studying their mores."
Definitions of some words have changed over the decades, too. The term cowpoke, for example, had its beginnings in the 1840 East and referred to a person who took the menial job of riding in railroad cattle cars to jab the steers so they wouldn't lie down. Yet since the 1870s that word has been attributed to someone working cattle from horseback and is the basis for the word cowpuncher (c. 1875). But beware of referring to "early cowpokes" in 1863 Colorado Territory; that would be incorrect because the railroad hadn't yet extended that far West.
Okay! Let's look at okay. As an adjective or adverb, usage began in 1839; OK or okay as a noun, in 1841; as a verb form, okay (okays, okayed), in 1888, and okey doke in 1932. This information was found in Webster's Collegiate 11th Edition (In Webster's, the earliest date of the word's usage is in parenthesis following the etymology of the entry.) Other lexicology books are A Dictionary of the Old West by Peter Watts, Random House Dictionary of the English Language, Dictionary of American Slang, and The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in the 1800s; glossaries of many nonfiction books are also helpful. Because I often write stories set prior to 1850, I refer to Chambers 20th Century Dictionary to get the British slant on definitions. Historical journals and folk songs also contain rich phrases from other eras. By using these sources to double-check (c. 1944) your characters' language, you can avoid anachronisms. This will keep your history honest, and prevent picky folks (such as I) from frowning through your book.
