The First Conlang
My first foray of any kind into language invention occurred when I was probably 8 or 9 or thereabouts, which now would be about 40 years ago. It was not a conscious act, no "I think I shall create an oligosymphonic language" kind of planning. Indeed I had no idea what any of the big words even were at that time, and wouldn't know where to look to find them had I wanted to. My exposures to the wonders of glossopoesy, at that time, were two: first, that eminent linguistician Dr. Seuss's On Beyond Zebra. Who could have known about all those wonderful letters beyond zed and the glories of words and their language that float pillowbillowingly along through the realms of fancy! Second, my writer cousin who also makes languages and fantastic stories.
I couldn't really say what that first language was like, or rather what it would have been like, as a language because it consisted entirely in a single act of discovering utterance, and that act begat but a single word. I couldn't then say that it was a "beginner language"; and after about twenty years of interacting with glossopoets across many online forums I'd hesitate to pin down or define "beginner language" anyway. Some are truly glorious -- others, well, let's just say that some glossopoets take a while to mature into the art!
As for that singular utterance, I recall that it was made while on a road trip, the car being an old Ford station waggon, and the location probably being in the midst of the ancient mountains of Pennsylvania and that the day would have been some time around mid Summer. It was a bright and cloudless day, and probably quite warm.
I no longer remember what the actual word was, but I do most vividly recall that the language's single word was defined, to put it in formal words, the warm-color-image of green fields of corn on a midsummer noontide swaying in a gentle breeze. I remember it was a joyful, happy sounding word; an exclamation of pure contentment, spoken in a moment of ecstasy, of laughter and in the midst of loving family.
I can not be certain, but given the nature of that ancient word and its definition, I would not be at all surprised if it weren't the spiritual ancestor of Queranarran, the language of the winged Denê who inhabit the world of Yeola. They are fond, I might say, of such aesthetically useful words as that one was.
