10 Words Everyone Spells Wrong (Even After Googling It)

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English spelling is a menace. A beautiful, rule-breaking, logic-defying menace. And no matter how many degrees you’ve got hanging on your wall—or how many Grammarly plugins you’ve installed—there are still words that will trip you up faster than a Lego in the dark.

These are the traitors. The deceptively innocent-looking words you’ve probably typed a thousand times… and second-guessed every single one of those times.

And yes—these are words even native speakers spell wrong. Constantly. Publicly. Sometimes in tattoo ink.

So let’s take a shame-free stroll through ten of the most misspelled, misused, and misunderstood words in the English language. If you’ve never messed one of these up, congrats—you might be a robot. Or lying. Or both.

1. Definitely

This one’s the undisputed heavyweight champion of spelling mistakes. If English words had a schoolyard, definitely would be the kid who looks innocent but trips everyone as they walk by. Everyone thinks they know how to spell it… until their fingers hit the keyboard.

Most commonly butchered as “definately”, this word has plagued emails, essays, and angry tweets for decades. Even worse? Some people replace it with “defiantly” by accident—changing the whole sentence from certainty to open rebellion. (“I will defiantly attend the meeting at 3 PM.” Calm down, Linda.)

The core of the issue is that second “i.” It feels sneaky. Unnecessary. Like it wandered in from another word. But it belongs there—right between the “n” and the “t.”

Want a tip to remember it? Try this mnemonic:

• DEFINITE + LY = DEFINITELY

“Definitely” is just the word definite with an “ly” slapped on. If something is definite, it’s certain. So when you’re definitely sure, you’re just being definite… in an adverb-y way.

Say it out loud as “definite-ly” while typing it. Yes, it sounds robotic. Yes, it works.

Or if that fails, just tattoo it on your hand. You’ll definitely never forget it again.

2. Separate

This is one of those words that looks totally fine until you actually try to spell it. Then suddenly your keyboard becomes a battleground between seperate and separate, and you just cross your fingers that autocorrect will sort it out.

The trouble here is phonetic betrayal. We say it like “seper-it” in casual speech, so our brains assume the middle letter must be an “e.” Logical? Sure. Correct? Not even close.

The correct version has that sneaky little “a” in the middle: separate. And that’s the part everyone misses—every time.

So how do you remember it?

One classic trick: Think of the phrase “there’s a rat in separate.” Because—yep—there is. S-E-P-A-R-A-T-E. Just mentally insert a tiny rodent into the middle of the word every time you write it. Weird? Absolutely. Effective? Also yes.

Alternatively, remember that separate is both a verb and an adjective—something that often trips up spellcheck-challenged brains. No matter how you use it, the rat stays in. Separate rooms, separate the papers, separate yourself from the drama—rat, rat, rat.

Miss the “a,” and suddenly your resume has “seperate achievements,” which is about as convincing as “definately qualified.” Don’t be that person.

3. Accommodate

This word is the spelling equivalent of an overachiever: two c’s, two m’s, zero mercy. It’s a favorite on spelling quizzes and autocorrect revenge missions everywhere. You miss just one letter and suddenly you’re offering to acomodate guests like some budget villain from a B&B horror movie.

The reason it trips people up? English almost never doubles both consonants like that. We’re used to recommend (two m’s), or occasion (two c’s), but accommodate? It’s like the spelling gods just went, “Give it all the letters. No survivors.”

Here’s how to remember it:

Think of it this way: accommodate has room to accommodate both C’s and both M’s.

It’s a word about making space, right? So of course it generously makes space for extra letters. (Honestly, it’s almost poetic. And annoying.)

Another trick: Picture a COMM**odate** — like a tiny verbal Airbnb — and you’ll keep both the double “C” and double “M” right where they belong.

If you’re still not sure, just remember: if you only include one “m” or one “c,” you’re not being very accommodating, are you?

4. Restaurant

Ah yes—restaurant. The word we misspell most often right when we’re the most vulnerable: hungry, tired, and one syllable away from typing “food near me” instead.

The problem with this word is that it sounds like it should be spelled “restarant” or “resteraunt” or maybe even “resturnt” if you’ve skipped lunch. That “AU” in the middle feels random—like a diphthong that wandered in from French and overstayed its welcome. (Spoiler: it kind of did.)

Here’s what you need to know: the word comes from French, where restaurant originally meant “something that restores.” That root—restaurer—is still used today in the sense of “to restore,” which is fitting, because eating usually does restore your will to live.

Need a trick to remember it?

Break it up: rest-AU-rant. Picture yourself going to a fancy restaurant, ordering foie gras, and pretending you know what “au jus” means. That AU = fancy food energy.

Or even simpler: RESTAURANT = REST + AURA + NT. You’re resting your body, enjoying the aura of overpriced ambience, and getting no text replies because everyone’s too busy chewing.

Misspell this one on a menu and people may not say anything—but they’ll notice. Especially Karen at table 3.

5. Conscience

This is the word that proves English has no conscience. Just look at it—con plus… what? Science? Scene? Chaos? All of the above?

“Conscience” gets mangled in every way imaginable: conshense, conshus, consiance—and at a certain point, you start doubting the word even exists. Or maybe you don’t have one, and that’s why it’s so hard to spell.

Let’s clear things up: “conscience” means your inner moral compass. The voice in your head that says “don’t steal that succulent” or “maybe don’t reply-all to that email.” It comes from Latin roots: con (with) and scientia (knowledge). So it literally means “with knowledge.” As in, you know what you’re doing. Especially when it’s wrong.

How to remember it?

Use this trick: CON + SCIENCE = CONSCIENCE.

It’s like a little internal scientist who knows right from wrong. If your conscience is working properly, you con science your way out of moral disaster.

Still struggling? Just picture a nun whispering “C-O-N-S-C-I-E-N-C-E” every time you hover over the word. Catholic guilt is powerful stuff.

6. Embarrass

This word is ironic, because nothing is more embarrassing than spelling “embarrass” wrong. And yet… we all do. One “r”? Two “s”s? Flip a coin and hope for the best. Spellcheck will know. Spellcheck always knows.

Most people type something like “embarass”—with one “r,” maybe one “s,” and 100% shame. It doesn’t help that it doesn’t follow any clear rule. The middle is a blurry mess of doubled letters, and your brain panics halfway through and fills in the rest with vibes.

So where did this chaos come from? The word comes from French (of course), from embarrasser, meaning “to block” or “to obstruct.” So originally it meant more like “to hinder”—and now it means “to feel like crawling under the nearest table.” Language is wild.

How to remember it?

Simple mnemonic: “It’s so embarrassing, it has to have two R’s and two S’s to handle all the shame.”

Still stuck? Picture this: you’re so embarrassed that your face turns red twice (R + R) and you sweat twice (S + S). It’s a full-body spelling emergency.

Bonus trivia: It also happens to be one of the most frequently misspelled words on social media. So if you mess it up, don’t worry—you’ve got company. Thousands of red-faced tweets go out every day.

7. Occurred

This word is basically a trap laid by the English language for unsuspecting texters and frantic emailers. “Occurred” is all about the double trouble of doubled letters: two C’s, two R’s, and one random U keeping them from fighting.

Most people go one of two ways—either not enough letters (“ocured”) or too many (“occurreded”, anyone?). And because the past tense -ed is tacked on, your brain starts to second-guess whether any of those double letters actually belong.

What’s the deal? The word comes from Latin occurrere, meaning “to run to meet.” So you’re supposed to be imagining something running up to smack you in the face—like this spelling question.

How to remember it?

Use the rhythm trick: O-C-C-U-R-R-E-D. Try saying it in your head like a chant: “Double C, double R, then E-D!” Bonus points if you clap while spelling it like it’s a spelling bee in 1998.

Still not sure? Remember: if something occurred, it probably happened so hard it needed two of everything to deal with it.

8. Bureaucracy

This word exists solely to remind us that English borrowed heavily from French—and didn’t always send thank-you notes. “Bureaucracy” looks like someone sneezed mid-word and nobody corrected it. It’s a hot mess of vowels, random “eau”s, and that soft “c” that feels like it showed up to the wrong meeting.

The most common error? “Bureacracy”, which skips over a vowel like it’s trying to save time—exactly the opposite of what bureaucracy ever does.

The word comes from the French bureau (meaning “desk” or “office”) and the Greek-derived suffix -cracy (meaning “rule” or “government”). So put simply, it means “rule by desk.” Which honestly checks out.

How to remember it?

Here’s one way: BUREAU + CRACY = BUREAUCRACY.

Picture a tiny, paper-pushing office chair ruling your life with rubber stamps and triple-checked forms. That’s bureaucracy—and now you’ll never forget the “eau” again.

Another option: repeat this mantra whenever you’re filling out forms: “Bureaucracy takes forever—so does spelling it.”

9. Entrepreneur

Ah, the ultimate LinkedIn flex—and the ultimate spelling minefield. “Entrepreneur” is the kind of word that makes you sound impressive when you say it and look completely unhinged when you try to spell it without autocorrect.

The French origin is doing the most here. Silent letters? Check. A weird “neu” near the end? Absolutely. An “r” that appears out of nowhere in the middle? Yep. The most common typos include “entrapreneur,” “entreperneur,” and everyone’s favorite: “enterpanuer.”

It’s borrowed directly from French, where entreprendre means “to undertake.” So yes, you’re literally an “undertaker” of things. Except more coffee and fewer funerals.

How to remember it?

Break it up like this: ENTRE + PRE + NEUR. Say it out loud like a chant: “on-truh-pruh-ner.” Is that how the French say it? Not quite. Is it close enough to remember? Definitely.

Another trick: imagine you’re trying to “enter a new endeavor.” That’s the whole vibe of entrepreneurship anyway—and you’ll keep that “neur” on the end where it belongs.

Just don’t try to spell it out loud during a pitch meeting. That’s how investors walk out.

10. Mischievous

Last but never least, we’ve got the word that even sounds like a trap: mischievous. It’s the grand finale of spelling confusion, partly because people keep saying it wrong too. You’ve probably heard it pronounced as “mis-CHEE-vee-us”—but that extra syllable? Doesn’t exist. It’s a myth. A phonetic hoax passed down by generations of misinformed cartoon villains.

The correct pronunciation is “MIS-chuh-vus”, and yes, the spelling matches—there’s no second “i” in there. Just three humble syllables and a lifetime of confusion.

Common mistakes? Let us count the ways: “mischievious”, “mischivious”, “mischevous”—each more cursed than the last. Even people who know how to spell it often doubt themselves mid-word and add a rogue vowel just to feel safe.

How to remember it?

Use this trick: It’s MISCHIEF + -OUS. That’s it. Mischievous things are full of mischief. Just glue on the “ous” and walk away. No bonus vowels. No surprise syllables. No mercy.

Still stuck? Remember: the most mischievous thing about this word is the way people pronounce it. But you? You know better now. You’ve earned your spelling redemption arc.

Spelling: Still the Final Boss

There you have it—ten innocent-looking words that have tormented even the best of us. They sneak into our essays, sabotage our résumés, and leave us staring blankly at the screen wondering if we’ve always been illiterate.

But here’s the truth: English spelling is less a system and more a hazing ritual. And if you’ve ever wrestled with “accommodate” or quietly cursed “bureaucracy,” you’re in very good company.

The good news? You now have tricks. You have mnemonics. You have mental rats, internal scientists, and double-letter drama to help you through.

So the next time autocorrect tries to gaslight you—or your brain starts adding phantom vowels where they don’t belong—just remember: it’s not you. It’s the language.

And if all else fails? Type it in Google, look smug when the correct spelling pops up, and keep going. That’s the real fluency anyway.