Holy cow, I wrote a book!
The other night, I was playing
a friendly game of Scrabble®,
and I managed to play BEANIER* (meaning "with a stronger flavor of beans")
onto a triple-word score,
crossing the B with an open Y,
scoring over 100 points in the process.
This sufficiently demoralized the other players
that the game turned into "play anything that vaguely resembles a word,
with creative spelling encouraged."
It turns out that BEANIER* is not listed in the
online versions of the SOWPODS or TWL Scrabble word lists,
although I made the move in good faith.
If the others had thought to challenge,
they would've succeeded.
My brother and I play Scrabble with very different styles.
I'm not so much concerned with scoring (although I certainly
try to make high-scoring moves)
as I am with having a pretty board
with a lot of intersections and clever words.
I treat Scrabble as a collaborative effort
that happens to have
a winner at the end,
in the same spirit as shows like
As a result, I don't pay too much attention to whether I'm
opening easy access to a triple-word square,
and I will forego a higher-scoring play in favor of one
that uses a funny word or which connects two parts of the board.
If you look at my scoresheet at the end of the game,
it consists of a lot of medium-scoring moves (and a few really
pathetic ones), with maybe one
"super-move" per game where I play a
or otherwise manage
to rack up a lot of points at one go.
My brother's approach is much more methodical.
He doesn't play a very flashy game;
he just focuses on scoring twenty or more points per move.
If you look at his scoresheet, it's just a slow, steady climb
to the final tally.
This means that when we play, it's a competition between the
tortoise and the hare.
(I'm the hare.)
Will my "super-move" be enough to hold off the steady erosion
of my lead from the constant barrage of strong moves?
Usually, the answer is No.
Slow and steady wins the race.
But I like to think I have more fun.