My goal going into 2025 was to complete the Conlang Year prompts as written—as written and on a daily basis. But I quickly “discovered” something I already knew about myself. It is difficult for me to stay motivated to work on the same project daily and to hold back on work when I have ideas that apply to future prompts. I think it was roughly January 5 when I abandoned the “do X prompt on its precise day” and instead put all the prompts into a large document and hit them in the order that worked best for me. So for all of you who experience something similar, I’m here to say… “SAME.”
Along with my goal of doing Conlang Year, I also had a secondary goal of creating one new word per day, regardless of what language it was in. Since I was doing early-stage work on my NisseLang project (the project I was using for Conlang Year), I couldn’t use that language to create words in early January. Instead, I decided to create words in Zhwadi that month, thinking I would simply switch to the NisseLang when I was ready to start making words.
I had so much fun working with Zhwadi, though, that I shifted goals and decided that I would work on old projects in the odd months of 2025 and then focus on NisseLang (which later got the name Nómàk’óla) in the even months with a minimum requirement of one new word per day.
That left me with a solid six months of focusing on Nómàk’óla. Some days I only did the minimum: one new word and done. Other days I had more time and energy to work on the language features, expanding its grammar document (and lexicon!). By the time I hit October, I had successfully addressed all the Conlang Year prompts (minus the final 31 prompts that are saved for Lexember).
Along with that work, I rather enjoyed expanding old projects in month-long diversions, working on Zhwadi (January), Izhglen (March), Vwela (May), Gineso (July), Yolfonte (September), and Mérorém (November).
Here I’m highlighting a favorite word from each month’s work.
January: Zhwadi kopikán “to discuss, to confer”
When I created this word, I had no idea that I’d see a Kopikon II before the year’s end! But I obviously was going for a “Kopikon” soundalike here, as a nod to our original Kopikon from 2023. This verb is a compound of ko “idea, thought” and pikán “to wring, to squeeze”. A discussion (or conference) is a wringing of ideas.
February: Nómàk’óla sháne “sun”
This word is special to me because it is inspired the name of a dear friend, Shannon, someone I had to say goodbye to far too early but whose memory holds strong in my heart. Shannon’s favorite flower was the sunflower, so making her name the source of “sun” in Nómàk’óla felt perfect.
March: Izhglen wezho “shore”
If you are familiar with my Izhglen project, then you know all the words come from English words but with their letters scrambled to create entirely new units, which then cycle through sound changes. Wezho comes directly from “shore” with a proto-form of *resho. I love how this word comes out in its modern Izhglen form—it feels rather beach-y to me!
April: Nómàk’óla kéé “to make, to craft”
One of my best friends is Kay, who is an incredible artist and uses a variety of mediums to express her talent. So I made the verb kéé “to make, to craft” with her in mind. It makes me happy to think of her every time I use this verb!
May: Vwela josuk “squirrel”
Vwela has noun classes that are based on the actual or perceived height of a noun. The noun class prefix jo- is associated with nouns that occur above the head, and suk is a nominal root associated with mice or rats. A squirrel is effectively a “tree rat” in this language (a rodent who tends to be seen higher up). There are people from my home town who refer to squirrels as tree rats—while they mean it in a less-than-flattering light, I think it’s a delightful little name.
June: Nómàk’óla lúsi “evening”
This word is a compound that comes from lú “edge” and sí “darkness”—evening is at the edge of darkness. I love that, when put together, it sounds like the name “Lucy”, as I am a longtime fan of I Love Lucy. 🙂
July: Gineso azhbok’aya “coconut”
One of the earliest words that I created in Gineso was bok’a “berry”. When I reworked and revamped the language this year, I used this root to create the noun azhbok’aya “coconut”, which features the azh- noun class marker that indicates an animate (yet non-human) noun that is larger in size. Because I set Gineso in the Stardew Valley world, it felt right to make a word for a coconut, and I decided to call it a large berry.
August: Nómàk’óla jáþike “to forage”
I honestly just like the way this word turned out. I enjoy its sound and the way it feels in my mouth when I say it. Its root is the verb jáþe “to look (for), to search (for), to seek” and then includes the durative -ik suffix. Foraging is an extended search.
September: Yolfonte tònkete “river”
Yolfonte is an expansion of one of the results from A Conlang-Venture. In this language, a bare noun root is plural, so tonk as a root means “rivers”. The singulative -te revives an old vowel that was otherwise lost at the end of the noun, creating tònkete. It was a lot of fun to expand one of the mini language sketches from A Conlang-Venture!
October: Nómàk’óla ŋwílhome “decoration”
The adjective root hóme means “beautiful” or “pretty”. Adding the verbal resultative prefix íl- creates the verb ílhome “to make beautiful, to decorate”. Then adding the patientive prefix ŋu- creates the noun ŋwílhome “decoration, bauble”. I love how the word sounds when it all comes together!
November: Mérorém méknithus “pocket”
Ah, one of the best features of clothes… the beloved pocket! Méknithus is a diminutive form of méknus “bag, sack”, pointing to its utility as a little bag attached to clothes. Clothing manufacturers, please add pockets to more clothes! Useful pockets! Not these little faux-kets that don’t even fit a car key. I want pockets that are little bags for my things!
December: Nómàk’óla nómise “skillet”
I decided to make a word for “skillet” or “pan” based on a compound meaning “short pot”. The noun nófo means “pot” and the adjective míse means “short”. I was absolutely delighted that, when I put these forms together, they created nómise, a word that starts with gnome!
Conlanging was a highlight of my year and helped me get through some really tough days—and 2025 kept hitting with tough days. I am grateful to my conlang community and am beyond grateful that I get to share every day and these little daily conlang wins with David, who loves conlanging as much as I do. Thank you to everyone who cheered me on during my Nómàk’óla year!