Making up language

Words that were invented by fiction writers, and now we all use them

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Sometimes, preexisting words just don’t cut it for writers. So they invent new ones. That was the case for terms like utopia, robot, and nerd. Whether they grew to be used in philosophical texts or on playgrounds, they have certainly entered our vocabulary. Let’s take a look at 11 examples!

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The word has been many things, from a schoolyard insult to a badge of honor for having certain interests. It first appeared in Dr. Seuss’s 1950 book If I Ran the Zoo, where a strange creature called a "Nerd" appears among other fanciful beasts.

Seuss didn’t define it as brainy or awkward, but within a few years, the word was popping up in slang to describe socially inept people or bookworms.

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Today, when we say "cyberspace," we mean the intangible digital world we enter when we go online. But the word was coined by sci-fi writer William Gibson in his 1982 short story Burning Chrome.

Gibson later famously described cyberspace as a "consensual hallucination" shared by billions of connected users. The term predates the World Wide Web by nearly a decade, yet it foresaw the immersive, sometimes overwhelming, reality of living digitally.

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Today, when we say we have "debunked" a myth, we mean that we have exposed it as false. The word itself, however, originated as a literary invention in 1923, coined by American writer William E. Woodward in his book Bunk.

Woodward used debunk to mean stripping nonsense, or "bunk" of its dignity, a definition that closely aligns with how the word is still used today.

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Today, we picture robots as everything from Roombas to humanoid androids, but the word itself dates back to a 1920 Czech play, R.U.R. (Rossum’s Universal Robots) by Karel Čapek.

The term comes from robota, meaning "forced labor" or "drudgery." In the play, however, the "robots" were not mechanical but biological constructs, closer to what we might now call clones. Both the term and the concept spread quickly across Europe and the United States, reaching the vocabulary of more and more writers.

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When we say something is "utopic," we mean it’s impossibly ideal. The term "utopia" was coined by Sir Thomas More in his 1516 book Utopia, where he described an imaginary island society with perfect laws, harmony, and equality.

But the trick was in the name: in Greek, ou-topos means "no place" while eu-topos means "good place." The word took off quickly, giving us not only "utopia" but also its darker twin, "dystopia," which would dominate much of modern literature.

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Few words sound as delightful as what they mean, and "serendipity" is one of them. It refers to a happy accident, a lucky discovery made while looking for something else.

The term was coined in 1754 by Horace Walpole, a British writer and politician, inspired by a Persian fairy tale titled The Three Princes of Serendip. In the story, the princes are constantly making discoveries "by accident and sagacity."

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Fans of Harry Potter know Lumos as the spell that lights the tip of a wand. J. K. Rowling coined the word by drawing on Latin roots, such as lumen, meaning "light."

"Lumos" has since slipped into everyday use to the point that some smartphone voice assistants recognize it as a command to turn on a device’s flashlight.

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The word hobbit instantly evokes images of small, hairy-footed inhabitants of the Shire, thanks to J. R. R. Tolkien. A trained philologist with a deep fascination for languages, Tolkien coined numerous terms, including hobbit and mithril, that have since entered popular culture.

The word became widely recognized even beyond The Lord of the Rings fan base. While hobbit originally referred to a fictional race in Tolkien’s legendarium, it is now sometimes used informally to evoke something small, cozy, or diminutive in character.

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Today, we use tween to describe the awkward stage between childhood and adolescence, typically covering ages 9 to 12. The word itself, however, traces back to J. R. R. Tolkien, who first introduced the idea of "tweens."

In The Fellowship of the Ring, hobbits in their "tweens" were those between 20 and 33; no longer teenagers, but not yet considered fully adult in hobbit society. Marketers later borrowed the catchy term to describe human preteens, and it stuck.

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The word "gossip" feels inseparable from modern life. Yet it began as the Old English term godsibb, meaning a "godparent" or a close, trusted companion. It was Geoffrey Chaucer, in The Canterbury Tales, who helped nudge the meaning toward talk and chatter.

Over time, the term drifted further, shifting from "companion" to "idle talk" and, eventually, to its modern association with rumor and speculation.

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We all know what it means to be a butterfingers: clumsy, prone to dropping things, with hands seemingly as slippery as if coated in butter. This playful insult is often credited to Charles Dickens, who used it in his novel The Pickwick Papers to mock a character’s poor grip on objects.

Some names stick around

From Table Tap Joe to Ziggy Stardust: Who are the best song characters?

Sometimes, a character is the perfect alter-ego to write a song about oneself without self-referencing so much. Other times, a character is just a character. Over the years, musicians have come up with lonely dreamers, fearless heroes, mysterious strangers, and even supernatural villains who have become just as famous as the songs themselves. Some were inspired by real people, others sprang entirely from imagination, but all of them left a lasting mark on music history. Which of these 12 do you remember?

Tom Waits has always had a soft spot for society's oddballs, and few are even stranger than Table Top Joe. Introduced on the 2002 album Alice, Joe is born with only a head and hands, yet grows into a brilliant piano player whose extraordinary talent earns him fame despite the odds stacked against him.

The song unfolds like a forgotten American folk tale, complete with references to Coney Island's legendary Dreamland amusement park and composer Igor Stravinsky. Although many listeners assume the story is based on an old carnival legend, Table Top Joe is entirely Tom Waits' own creation.

Few fictional musicians have ever become as famous as Ziggy Stardust. Introduced in 1972, Ziggy is an alien rock star sent to Earth shortly before humanity's end, only to be consumed by the very fame that makes him a savior to millions.

David Bowie blurred the line between fiction and reality by performing as Ziggy onstage for more than a year. When he unexpectedly announced Ziggy's retirement during a concert at London's Hammersmith Odeon in 1973, many fans believed the character, and perhaps Bowie himself, had truly reached the end of the story.

Tommy Walker isn't just the hero of a song, he's the central figure of one of rock music's first great operas. After witnessing a traumatic event as a child, Tommy becomes deaf, mute, and blind, yet somehow develops astonishing pinball skills that transform him into an unlikely celebrity.

Pete Townshend built an entire musical world around Tommy, exploring themes of trauma, faith, and redemption. First released in 1969, Tommy later became a hit film, a Broadway production, and one of the most influential concept albums ever recorded.

Johnny B. Goode is every aspiring musician's dream. Growing up in rural Louisiana with little more than a guitar and natural talent, he plays so brilliantly that listeners predict "his name will be in lights."

Chuck Berry based the character partly on himself and partly on pianist Johnnie Johnson. Originally described as a "colored boy," Johnny became a "country boy" in the final lyrics, making the song more likely to receive airplay during the segregation era. Nearly two decades later, Johnny's anthem would even travel into space aboard NASA's Voyager Golden Record.

Few fictional characters have captured loneliness as powerfully as Eleanor Rigby. She quietly moves through life unnoticed, while Father McKenzie delivers sermons that no one hears, creating one of popular music's saddest portraits of isolation.

Paul McCartney later explained that Eleanor's name came from actress Eleanor Bron and the Liverpool shop Rigby & Evens. The discovery of an actual Eleanor Rigby gravestone in Liverpool only deepened the song's mystique, though McCartney maintained the coincidence was unintentional.

Billie Jean may be one of pop music's most famous women, yet Michael Jackson insisted she wasn't a real person. Instead, she represented several women who falsely claimed that he had fathered their children during the height of the Jackson 5's fame.

Released in 1983 as part of Thriller, the song became a global phenomenon. It also provided the stage for Jackson's legendary moonwalk during Motown 25.

Unlike many legendary song characters, Stagger Lee actually existed. His real name was Lee Shelton, a St. Louis criminal who murdered Billy Lyons during an argument over a hat on Christmas Eve in 1895.

The shocking crime quickly entered American folklore through countless folk songs before Lloyd Price transformed it into a chart-topping hit in 1958. More than a century later, Stagger Lee remains one of the most enduring antiheroes in American music.

Tom Dooley was inspired by Thomas Dula, a Confederate veteran executed in North Carolina in 1868 after being convicted of murdering Laura Foster. His surname was locally pronounced "Dooley," giving the ballad its familiar title.

The Kingston Trio revived the old Appalachian folk song in 1958, turning it into an international hit and helping launch America's folk music revival.

When the narrator of "Lola" meets an intriguing stranger in a Soho nightclub, expectations quickly give way to surprise. Ray Davies crafted one of rock's earliest mainstream stories exploring gender ambiguity, decades before the topic entered popular conversation.

The recording rarely reached British radio. Because BBC rules prohibited commercial product names, Davies had to interrupt a U.S. tour and fly back to London simply to replace the lyric "Coca-Cola" with the now-famous "cherry cola."

Unlike most famous song characters, the Piano Man is really Billy Joel himself. Before becoming a superstar, Joel spent six months in 1972 and 1973 performing under the pseudonym Bill Martin at the Executive Room, a piano bar in Los Angeles, after becoming trapped in a bad recording contract. The song transforms those experiences into a bittersweet portrait of ordinary people searching for escape at the end of another week.

Joel has said that virtually every character in the song was based on a real person, from bartender John to "Paul, the real estate novelist" and Davy, who really was in the Navy. Yet the Piano Man himself became the story's most enduring character: a quiet observer who offers music as a brief refuge for dreamers, lonely souls, and regulars alike. More than fifty years after its 1973 release, "Piano Man" remains Billy Joel's signature song, and its title has effectively become his lifelong nickname.

Standing nearly seven feet tall and missing an arm, Amos Moses roams the Louisiana swamps hunting alligators. Jerry Reed filled the song with colorful Southern expressions and exaggerated storytelling that make Amos feel like an authentic folk legend.

Although fictional, Amos embodies the larger-than-life heroes found throughout American tall tales. His adventures turned the song into one of Reed's biggest crossover hits and secured Amos a permanent place among country music's greatest characters.

Big Bad John hardly says a word, but he doesn't have to. The towering coal miner earns everyone's respect through quiet strength before sacrificing his own life to save fellow workers when a mine collapses.

Jimmy Dean's 1961 ballad became a smash hit, winning a Grammy and inspiring several sequel songs. More than sixty years later, Big Bad John still stands as one of country music's defining working-class heroes.