Just a few Latin Phrases sprinkled...
We use Latin inserted in our English all the time, like verbal raisins in a muffin, and most of us (like me) only half-know what we’re saying. So let's know.
When we get Latin right in language, we sound smart (IMO). When we get it wrong … we sound very World War II (eleven).
So here’s a quick, ad hoc refresher and a few favorites you probably use.
Ad hoc was the original word-of-mouth for this post. I found it used in Operation Pineapple Express by Lt. Col. Scott Mann. I read it for the next Nicky Matthews mystery, Sacred Ghosts—remember, Franco Martinez is an Army vet. They created ad hoc committees targeting the extraction of former comrades and their families in Afghanistan.
But what does that actually mean?
“Ad hoc” translates to “for this.” It’s something created for a single, specific purpose—like that committee thrown together to deal with this crisis or this problem and its specifics. It’s not permanent. It’s the “duct tape” of Latin, the bandage that you eventually rip off. It’s not something that is usually meant to last.
A couple of Latin “twins” that people mix up all the time:
e.g. is exempli gratia, “for example.” You use it when you’re throwing out samples from a larger set—e.g., mystery, thriller, or rom-com.
FYI, gratia means “grace,” so shouldn’t this phrase be example grace?
Gratia plena: “Full of grace”.
Sola gratia: “by grace alone”.
i.e. is id est, “that is” or “in other words.” It’s for clarifying or restating: i.e., you’re not allowed to panic about this until after coffee.
“id” is actually a pronoun meaning “it,” so “it is”?
Writers sometimes use these phrases because they know what they mean without actually knowing what they mean. That can be good … or bad. Whatever you choose, don’t confuse your reader.
De facto means “in practice.” It’s what actually happens, whether or not it’s official.
My critique partner is a de facto story whisperer and can find all those little holes that I somehow missed in my 34+ revisions.
Status quo is “the state in which”—or the current situation.
When we say “let’s not mess with the status quo,” we’re really saying “please don’t poke at the fragile Jenga tower that’s barely standing.”
Others are about intention and exchanges:
Bona fide means “in good faith,” which we now use as “genuine” or “authentic.” A bona fide fan isn’t pretending—they’re all in.
I like to say bone-a fee-day out loud.
Quid pro quo is Renaissance Latin(?) for “something for something,” a trade with expectations on both sides: like “I’ll promote your book if you promote mine.”
Quid is Latin for “what.”
Pro translates to “for,” “on behalf of,” or “in place of.”
Quo means “where.” But I think that’s Latin Latin—not Renaissance Latin.
And then there are the little spice words we sprinkle into sentences:
Per se means “by itself.” It’s not the deadline, per se, that’s killing me—it’s the three beta (Greek) reads that found a bunch of problems in the manuscript.
Vice versa is “the other way around,” our shorthand for flipping two things: We help each other. She tells me when my writing sucks, and vice versa.
I guess using these tiny Latin phrases depends on what you are writing—maybe a legal thriller? Or how about a comedic legal thriller?
“Your Honor, prima facie this is a de minimis matter, and while the ratio decidendi in Smith may, ipso facto, seem in pari materia, res ipsa loquitur that my client—acting bona fide and certainly not in flagrante delicto—lacks the requisite mens rea, so if the State persists in limine rather than entering a nolle prosequi, I may be compelled, sine qua non, to seek habeas corpus and pursue this pro bono amicus curiae crusade all the way to a petition for certiorari, inter alia.”
Or perhaps a medical drama soap opera, and let’s not forget what we borrow from Greek, French, and German, as well as Latin:
“His myocardium is a drama queen,” the doctor said. “Prima facie panic attack, but the res ipsa—the sweat, the clutching—whispers infarct.”
“Or,” the nurse replied, “it whispers too many Red Bulls and both the wife and girlfriend in the waiting room. That’s de minimis cardiology, Herr Doktor.”
“Bona fide symptoms, ma chère,” he insisted. “My mens rea is pure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Your Latin is malpractice per se. Order the labs before I chart diagnosis: ego inflatus.”
He smirked. “That’s not all that’s inflatus right now. Ipso facto, I adore you.”
Yeah, don’t do that.
♣️