To Swear or Not to Swear

Three Examples of Character Cursing in IZ~

After reading TA Sullivan’s interesting WordPress blog Should Your Character Swear we realized our characters who don’t swear, do.

ONE. In our first book, ENCOUNTERS, a coed is exhausted, cold, wet, and frustrated because her mobile ran out of time as she’d connected to her professor.

“Devans here.”

“Professor Devans, this is Dee.”

“Your credit is running low,” came an automated message.

“Please don’t lea …”

Be be be be be be …

“Damn! What good is this thing?” Dee threw the phone onto the passenger seat, slammed the door, started the engine, and drove to the security gate..

TWO. About two hours later the professor finds himself treading in the dark through mud to a hole in the ground that his student, Dee, claims is where her dog found the collared urn.

“Holy Sh__!” He was not by nature a profaniteur and he certainly didn’t want Dee to believe otherwise, so he stopped in mid-curse, aimed his beam at the dog beside him who stood peering at her handiwork.

THREE. In CREATION, soon to be published, Chico Quwattle, a plant geneticist on Planet Authair has missed what she considers an opportunity of a lifetime.

“They’re petals; not snowflakes, the ralkids are dropping their petals. Damn.” She cursed.

Chico didn’t swear. She hated swearing. Maybe she could swallow the word like she’d never said it. Here she was a student of all things green and growing; her last opportunity, ever, to see the ralkid’s dome of vines untangle, open to the sun, and drop their blossoms, and she’d botched it. How swear-worthy was that? She asked herself.


We’d love to have your comments, but please don’t curse, at least at us.



The flight suit, a flexible ribbed polymer in hues of lilac, gently stretched as she pulled it over her legs. She positioned the collar between her teeth to slide her left arm into the suit’s long sleeve. There was no other sleeve in which to stuff her remaining and lifeless appendage. Instead, a customized pouch designed to cradle the injured limb allowed her to secure it over her chest out of harm’s way.

To her delight, a woven butterfly spread over the outside of the torso and adjacent shoulder. Its wings of silver sparkled through the hazy light. She pressed on the zip band which automatically sealed the suit.

Cimi’d designed compassion into every thread Chico thought, snapping the last silver clasp on her matching flight boots. She stood, feeling feminine once again. Now to survive the flight. With her one good hand Chico picked up Sequence’s carrier. Stepping around the forest of stalagmites she saw Phed waiting by the cavejet.