In making a final (one fervently hopes) revision pass through my second novel, I came upon a word that had been flagged by both my exacting editor and my document program: waybread.

First, I looked it up on Merriam-Webster, and found this:

way·bread

noun \ˈwāˌbred\

Definition of WAYBREAD

Brit

: broad-leaved plantain 1


Origin of WAYBREAD
ME weybrede, fr. OE wegbrǣde; akin to MD wegebrede broad-leaved plantain, OHG wegabreita; all fr. a prehistoric WGmc compound whose first constitutent is represented by OE weg way and whose second constituent is akin to OE brād broad; fr. its broad leaves and the fact that it frequently grows by the wayside — more at way, broad

A plantain? Really? That was a surprise. The roots of the word are somewhat what I had in mind when I used it, but I wasn’t thinking of a plantain, for certain, which means I misused this oh-so-intriguing word. But where did I get it from then? What dark corner of my convoluted brain offered that word up at that moment in my writing?

Probably some game term, I mutter at myself reproachfully as I Google it. And Wikipedia helpfully informs me:

Waybread may refer to:

Lembas , a special food made by the Elves in J.R.R. Tolkien’s books
Plantago major , a plant


Ah, Tolkien. An unconscious borrowing, then. A pity. I shall have to replace it with some mundane word of lesser lineage.

But I’m grateful for the journey it took me on, and I have a new “true” word that will sit on a sunny shelf in my brain for awhile, instead of lurking in a recess, undefined and misunderstood.