We all do this. We use oxymorons and contradict or cancel out what we’re actually saying. Are we moronic? Poetic? Or just really trying to make our point?

The origin of the word oxymoron is actually fascinating—and not just because it contains the word moron, which is fun to say. In Greek, oxy means sharp and moron means dull. The origin of the word is an example of the concept itself. Neat, huh? Perhaps even boringly cool?  ;)

Here’s a great definition and description of an oxymoron from an online store’s blog. “An oxymoron is a self-conflicting, self-cancelling, or seemingly contradictory combination of words that appear side by side.”

The blog goes on to say, “these figures of speech can be humorous, thought-provoking, memorable, and sometimes stimulate imagination and creativity.” You guessed it. I’m writing about oxymorons today because they are fun, creative, thought-provoking and sometimes funny. They’re a great way to spruce up your writing.

The warning is always the same. Don’t over-spice. You’ll ruin the dish.

My sister was in the middle of re-filling the salt shaker in her house last week when my brother-in-law reached for it to sprinkle some onto his lunch. Simultaneously, my sister was putting the large salt container back in the pantry with plans to return immediately to the scene of the crime-to-be to tighten up the lid and put the salt shaker back in its place. The cap wasn’t screwed on all the way. You know the rest. Bro-in-law had one salty lunch and was left with a half-empty salt shaker that had just been refilled. Two people ticked off.

Timing is everything. My point with this interlude? Oxymorons can be fun and even thoughtful, but don’t overuse them. It’ll ruin the copy you worked so hard to put together, dear writer.

By way of example, let’s dive into a completely made up story featuring a devout atheist, a dead pilot, some comrades in (or just with) arms, and our protagonist of this post, the oxymoron.

The Pilot’s Demise: An exploration into the overuse of the oxymoron

The devout atheist was also a militant pacifist, and he believed all conflict should be civil war. He was awfully good at keeping up the morale of his loyal opposition party so that they were cheerfully pessimistic about the pseudo-guerrilla movement at all times. One afternoon, a dull roar filled the skies overhead. The men stood on a flat hillside and witnessed the crash landing of a reconnaissance flight whose mission was to report back enemy positions. The pilot’s silent scream reached the depth of the men’s hearts, challenging their intense apathy at the very core. “Good grief,” muttered one man to his comrade. “This is humane torture. Why do we make ourselves living sacrifices?” The small crowd eventually left the scene in random order with sad smiles on their faces as they sheepishly looked forward to a dinner of jumbo shrimp. The pilot’s conspicuous absence pulled their eyes heavy to their plates and the sound of silence was plastic silverware on tin plates. That bright night would forever be with them as they remembered the pilot’s upward fall to the hellish heaven in which they did not believe. After dinner, they shuffled into the canteen clearly confused at what had transpired that day. There, they theoretically experienced the oxymoron’s entrance into the bar. An unconscious awareness settled over them that this was the end. They all died laughing, joining their fallen comrade the pilot. The oxymoron left the bar, deafening silence intact, and never returned.

Did you enjoy reading that nonsense? Like the post, you big voyeur! If you can count the correct number of oxymorons in the paragraph above, you’ll win a really big, non-monetary prize in the likes of a giant hi-five, an “E” for excellent effort, and some major street cred in the writing scene. Get counting and report back in the comments!