Today’s article is written by regular contributor Sarah Baughman. 

“Ugh, Mrs. B.!” my student groaned, rolling his eyes. “Why can’t this author just say what he actually means?!”

We were reading Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, and my student wasn’t the only one in the class who seemed weary of reading about pythons that were really hoses, symphony conductors that were really firemen, an island that was really a face. They wanted clarity, not guesswork.

I don’t begrudge them their frustration—metaphors can be tricky. However, it’s helpful to think of them not as puzzles writers use to baffle us, but rather as keys unlocking more layers of meaning than we could possibly gain with a literal description.

Wait a second, I just threw a couple metaphors in there without realizing it. Puzzles? Keys? Seems pretty sneaky, but honestly, I didn’t mean to! They just popped out!

The fact that I made the comparisons subconsciously shows that the human mind, in an effort to make sense of its world, is already constantly linking people, objects, ideas, and experiences. Metaphors might seem convoluted, but they’re really outward expressions of the connections we already make in our daily lives. They add depth and insight to our writing.

Still, not all metaphors are created equal; some are more powerful than others. The best ones enhance our understanding of the topic at hand, helping us grasp associations and characteristics we might not have noticed before.

Finding the layers

“But he is saying what he means!” I told my skeptical student. “Look, the metaphors are actually efficient. Bradbury describes the fire hose as a ‘python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world’ (pg. 3). Sounds complicated at first, but think about how much you learn about the hose just by realizing that it’s like a python. A hose by itself is just an object, neither good nor bad. The metaphor, just one word, helps us know exactly how to feel about it.”

Metaphors work nicely when, despite their obvious connection to the topic, they have some key differences as well—when they compare, for example, a living thing (like a python) to an object (like a hose).

The python metaphor also works well because it contains both physical and intangible similarities that deepen our understanding of the concept. Sure, a hose is shaped like a snake, making the initial connection obvious. But there’s more to it than that– this is no garter snake. Pythons are the world’s longest snake, frighteningly powerful, carnivorous. They kill easily, squeezing their prey until it dies (interestingly, they aren’t poisonous, which makes Bradbury’s mention of “venom” an interesting discussion topic–but I digress).

In Fahrenheit 451, the larger-than-life dictatorial government invokes fear, dominating not only people’s lives but their thoughts, arguably “constricting” their instincts and feelings until they lose all sense of self, a spiritual “death” of sorts. I could go on, but what’s nice is I don’t have to—the metaphor does it for me. With one image, it conjures up a host of associations that enrich my understanding of the scene, and it ends up packing considerable more punch than “The fireman sprayed the house with a hose.”

How can we write metaphors as complex and meaningful as Bradbury’s?

Writing metaphors backwards

1. What are the defining characteristics?

Choosing meaningful metaphors can begin with recognizing the distinct characteristics of a character, object, or setting.

For example, let’s shift gears and imagine Bradbury’s character, Mildred. (Don’t worry if you haven’t read the book; the following description is all you’ll need. ) She’s emotionally detached and, while she’s not cruel to her husband, she’s not loving either. In fact, she doesn’t seem capable of really feeling much at all, and she responds to other people’s displays of emotion with fear and confusion.

2. Focus on a particular situation or scene that highlights some of the key characteristics you identified. 

In one scene, Bradbury’s Mildred attempts suicide. The main character, Montag, enters his wife’s bedroom to find her lying comatose on the bed. In this scene, her personality has reached its most extreme consequence, plus her physical state perfectly mirrors her emotional state. It’s a great place for a metaphor.

3. Think of some other objects that share characteristics you identified in Step 1, also keeping in mind how the specific situation reveals the character. 

In this scene, Mildred is both emotionally and physically detached. She is completely separated from her husband, her home, her world. She’s isolated.

What else is isolated? An oasis in the desert? Fine, but the connotation of an oasis is wrong; it’s too positive (Mildred is hardly a source of refuge).

What about a tree shedding its leaves too early, rotted at the root? Or what about an island? Bingo! Bradbury ends up comparing her to just that.

4. Extend the initial comparison with a complete image. 

Saying Mildred is like an island doesn’t really feel like enough. Moving past a single word and creating an image to round out the specific characteristics you choose to emphasize is more effective.

Bradbury’s final metaphor comparing Mildred to an island is written as a simile: “Her face was like a snow-covered island upon which rain might fall, but it felt no rain; over which clouds might pass their moving shadow, but she felt no shadow…” (pg. 13).

It’s perfect. Immediately, we understand that this is an impenetrable character, someone unmoved by attempts at nourishment or warning. We imagine an island, icy and uninhabited, surrounded by waves nobody would want to cross. We might even shudder as we read it…which of course, when we’re dealing with metaphor, is exactly the point.

Do you enjoy using metaphors in your writing? What are some challenges and successes you have experienced as you work with metaphors?

Today’s post is written by Frederick Fuller. Thanks, Frederick!

In Anatole France’s story The Juggler of Notre Dame, Barnabé, the juggler, performs before the altar of the Virgin Mary as his gift to the Holy Mother.

He offers to the Holy Mother all he has, from what he is, a juggler. And the astonished Prior and other monks who are watching see Her appear and bless Barnabé.

Writer are Barnabés. We perform for our readers. Instead of copper balls and knives that Barnabé used, writers use words.

Choose Words that Engage the Five Senses

Using the premise from poet John Ciardi that poetry is a performing art as well—with poets juggling words in ways that astound and entertain their readers—I contend that fiction writers mount dramas on their pages.

And like poets, we choose words that engage our five senses. Take John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. In chapter three, he turns a casual observation of a turtle crossing a highway into a lesson on endurance.

A turtle slowly makes its way through the grass toward the highway. He doesn’t really walk, but drags his shell along, neck out-stretched with humorous eyes looking ahead.

Steinbeck does not force this lesson upon us, but allows it to seep into the Goads’ struggle to get to California and their determination to endure. He takes a snapshot that defines endurance and gives the reader the honor of figuring it out. He performs the scene for our entertainment and edification.

Consider How Personal Experience Affects Word Meaning

Words mean what they mean in direct proportion to our experience with them. When we encounter most any word, it effects a reaction in our psyches and we see, hear, smell, taste or feel what the word means to us.

Example: A father abuses his child. The child goes to church and hears the words Father God. Her experience with “father” causes her to reject the concept of God the Father.

To be successful, fiction writers must touch their readers with words they believe will call forth the five senses. Whatever a writer wants to do to his reader, sensitive word choice is essential, and it will take time and planning to achieve it.

Use Your Thesaurus Wisely

My writing coach, an accomplished published author, told me to not make my work appear made by thesaurus. Be careful, she warned, about using synonyms, especially “big words” that you think will show your great scholarship but only exposes you as an amateur.

She is right. So was George Orwell when he admonished writers to “never use a long word when a short one will do.”

Sound advice. Echos Mark Twain when he advised: ”Pick a worthy subject. Stick to that subject. And say what you have to say in as few words as possible.” I agree with all that advice, and it is always in my mind when I write.

However (always a however), my contention is that writers should read thesauri and dictionaries like non-fiction “how to” books. We are not called wordsmiths for nothing.

For we do “smith” words. We treat them with intimacy, we hammer them until they say what we want them to say, and we forge them by means of art into shapes that will intrigue, astonish, amaze and entertain our readers.

Be a Barnabé, juggling, dancing, singing, turning cartwheels–whatever we need to cause readers to come back for more. Writing is not just a craft; it is performance.

Break a leg!

Frederick Fuller is a writer living in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. A retired teacher of English and Theatre Arts, he is the author of two novels, For the Heart’s Treasure and Children of Bast, both available in print and e-book formats. Catch him at his site Skimbleshanks, The Railway Cat, friend him on Facebook, and follow him on Twitter. Check out his books at Goodreads.

We’ve all heard the expression, “That’s so cliche!” But what does it really mean, and can it mean more than one thing?

A cliche can be described as:

• A trite or overused expression or idea ~The Free Dictionary
• A hackneyed theme, characterization or situation ~Merriam-Webster Dictionary
• Something that has become overly familiar or commonplace ~Merriam-Webster Dictionary
• A person or character whose behaviour is predictable or superficial ~The Free Dictionary

So, cliches don’t just include phrases we hear too often, but also ideas and situations, and even characters.

DeepGenre makes an interesting observation in that:

One of the standard Words of Advice that writers–new and old–get, is to avoid clichés. The advice itself is rather a cliché but, like all clichés, it is based in truth, and it would be wrong to reflexively ignore it.

But what’s so wrong about using cliches? Sure, maybe they sound a little tired, but how bad could they possibly be?

Oxford Dictionaries puts it well:

[Cliches] tend to annoy people, especially if they’re overused, and they may even create an impression of laziness or a lack of careful thought. Some people just tune out when they hear a cliché and so they may miss the point that you’re trying to make.

There’s the heart of the problem—no one wants to read something they’ve already read a thousand times. And, as a writers of integrity, none of us set out to look lazy.

As I mentioned before, the term ‘cliche’ can refer to a number of different things, but they all share the commonalities of being (a) overused, (b) meaningless, and (c) boring.

1. Overused expressions

Common sayings (or idioms) like “All’s fair in love and war” and “Blood is thicker than water” are cliched. They once held truth and meaning, but through overuse have become meaningless.

Other expressions you may find peppered through your writing include, “He was scared to death,” “It was my worst nightmare,” “She was as sick as a dog,” and “He sighed with relief.”

But even more insidious are the classification of expressions that are so commonplace, we don’t even notice them: “Needless to say,” “At this point in time,” “Each and every one,” “Off the top of my head,” “Mark my words,” and “I beg to differ.”

The list could go on and on (I think “on and on” might even be a cliche…), but you get the idea. These expressions are overused, meaningless, and boring.

[Check out this list of 500 Cliches to Avoid in your Creative Writing, and An A to Z of Cliches for Writers to Avoid Like the Plague.]

2. Hackneyed plots

We’ve probably all heard that there are only so many original plots in existence, and that every book in existence is simply a variation of one of those plots. That’s completely true. But, some plots have become so hackneyed, readers begin to think, “Ugh. Not again.”

How to Avoid Plot Cliches gives the example of the character who knows some terrible secret, but dies or falls into a coma before he or she can pass the secret on to the main character.

Or, how about this one: young city girl loses/quits her job and moves to small town which she hates at first, but soon comes to love for its quirky inhabitants and one very special male character.

No one’s saying you can’t make these overused plots fresh—in fact, writers do it every day and still manage to get published. But, if the plot or premise is hackneyed, the writer must do something else to make the story stand out. Maybe the characters or the setting are what sets it apart from the rest.

[Just for a laugh, check out this cool cliched plot generator.]

3. Stereotypical characters

In my opinion, the best books are those that feature characters who remain in my memory long after I’ve finished reading. That’s why it’s especially frustrating when I come across completely one-dimensional, stereotypical characters that ruin an otherwise okay story.

Within my reading experience, I’ve come across characters like these:

• a male love-interest who was fat in high school, but who turns out to be beefy and handsome when the leading lady meets him again as an adult
• a young professional woman who can’t seem to find love amongst all the frogs
• a handsome, brooding man whose wife died, and now he just can’t allow himself to admit his feelings for the new lady in his life

These are stereotypes. We’ve seen these characters again and again.

Again, that’s not to say you couldn’t take one of these characters and make them outstanding, while setting them within a not-so-hackneyed plot. It’s just more difficult to pull off.

[Helen Fielding managed to do it with the much-loved Bridget of Bridget Jones's Diary.]

The Cliched Writing Self-Test

Okay—moment of truth. (Another cliche, right?)

Print out one chapter or section of your work-in-progress, and work through it with a highlighter.

Each time you come across…

• a phrase you hear commonly used
• a too-obvious descriptive word (like describing the sun as ‘glaring’)
• a situation that seems unoriginal
• a character you’ve seen before, or one who behaves in a stereotypical manner

…highlight it.

Worse than you thought? Better?

You’ve probably found at least a few instances of cliched writing which would have otherwise gone unnoticed. If not, try digging out a piece from your earlier writing days. See a difference?

Now, before you go throwing out your novel or short story because you think your writing is hopeless, check out Oxford Dictionaries Action Points for Avoiding Cliches. There are some great practical ways to rid your prose of these impediments to excellent writing.

The odd cliche isn’t going to kill your work-in-progress. Sometimes they can be used to your advantage, but in general there are better ways to get your point across.

How cliched is your writing? Do you have a strategy for preventing or identifying cliches in your works-in-progress? Which cliched phrases, ideas, or characters do you find popping up in your work again and again?

After taking several weeks away from the first draft of my novel, I decided to jump back in.

I expected to find all sorts of problems with the story: inconsistencies in the plot, lack of transitions, poor characterization—the works. But what began to stick out at me the most was something to which I’d given little thought in writing the first draft.

Filter words.

What Are Filter Words?

Actually, I didn’t even know these insidious creatures had a name until I started combing the internet for info.

Filter words are those that unnecessarily filter the reader’s experience through a character’s point of view. Dark Angel’s Blog says:

“Filtering” is when you place a character between the detail you want to present and the reader. The term was started by Janet Burroway in her book On Writing.

In terms of examples, Let the Words Flow says to watch out for:

• to see
• to hear
• to think
• to touch
• to wonder
• to realize
• to watch
• to look
• to seem
• to feel (or feel like)
• can
• to decide
• to sound (or sound like)

[Note: A reader asked me to add 'to know' to this list, as well.]

I’m being honest when I say my manuscript is filled with these words, and the majority of them need to be edited out.

What Do Filter Words Look Like?

Let’s imagine a character in your novel is walking down a street during peak hour.

You might, for example, write:

Sarah felt a sinking feeling as she realized she’d forgotten her purse back at the cafe across the street. She saw cars filing past, their bumpers end-to-end. She heard the impatient honk of horns and wondered how she could quickly cross the busy road before someone took off with her bag. But the traffic seemed impenetrable, and she decided to run to the intersection at the end of the block.

Eliminating the bolded words removes the filters that distances us, the readers, from this character’s experience:

Sarah’s stomach sank. Her purse—she’d forgotten it back at the cafe across the street. Cars filed past, their bumpers end-to-end. Horns honked impatiently. Could she make it across the road before someone took off with her bag? She ran past the impenetrable stream of traffic, toward the intersection at the end of the block.

Are Filter Words Ever Acceptable?

Of course, there are usually exceptions to every rule.

Just because filter words tend to be weak doesn’t mean they never have a place in our writing. Sometimes they are helpful and even necessary.

Susan Dennard of Let the Words Flow writes that we should use filter words when they are critical to the meaning of the sentence.

If there’s no better way to phrase something than to use a filter word, then it’s probably okay to do so.

Want to Know More?

Do read these other helpful articles on filter words and more great writing tips:

• Filter Words and Distancing Point of View
• The Reasons Editors Reject Manuscripts
• Filter Those Words and Strengthen Your Writing

Have you ever noticed filter words creeping into your first drafts? How do you know when to keep a filter word, and when to eliminate it?

Your words are the most important tools you have as a writer.

That’s the reason one of your goals this year might be to expand your vocabulary. You want to learn a greater number of words, and also how to use words you hear often, but aren’t sure of their proper contexts.

Sounds like a grand ol’ time, right?

It doesn’t need to be boring. Choose a few of these simple strategies and watch your use of language improve this year:

1. Subscribe to word-of-the-day emails

Sign up for one of these programs, which deliver information on a new word each day. As long as you commit to reading the emails, it’s an easy way to expand your vocabulary.

2. Make use of your dictionary

It sounds simple, but keeping your dictionary on hand as you read your novel, magazine, or the daily newspaper, can encourage you to look up words you’d otherwise skim over. My Kindle eReader has a built-in dictionary, so whenever I encounter an unfamiliar word, I just move my cursor over to it and—voila—the definition pops up on the screen.

3. Keep a vocabulary journal

Whether you choose to record your words-of-the-day or just jot down unfamiliar words you as you encounter them, keeping a vocabulary journal will help reinforce new language.

The very act of writing things down helps us to remember things, plus you’ll be able to look back through your journal whenever you like. You can even draw pictures or diagrams next to words to help you associate meanings with something more concrete.

4. Practice using your new words

They say if you don’t use it, you lose it. I think that applies to vocabulary, as well. If you learn a new word per day, but never take the time to actually use them in conversation or in your writing, you’ll soon forget their meanings.

Instead, endeavour to use your new words when you’re chatting with friends or colleagues, and incorporate them into your writing often.

5. Curl up with a word puzzle

What could be more fun (and less work-like) than increasing your word power with games and puzzles? Crosswords, word searches, cryptograms and word trivia games make learning fun.

Best of all, you might be able to convince your family to join in with you.

A word of warning: don’t waste your time learning words you will certainly never use. Extremely rare or clunky words you’ve never even seen before are likely to be foreign to most of your readers.

That doesn’t mean there aren’t unusual words that are interesting and appropriate in certain contexts. Use your best judgement when deciding where to focus your time and attention.

What are your reasons for wanting to improve your vocabulary? Do you have any other strategies to add to this list?

All through school, I was taught that when one writes a list, no comma is needed after the second last item.

For example:

Please get milk, eggs, butter, bread, sugar and salt from the grocery store.

As far as I knew, a comma would have been unnecessary after the word sugar.

Now, I’m not so sure.

An Issue of Style?

This “unnecessary” little punctuation mark is called a serial comma (aka Harvard or Oxford comma), and it’s the subject of heated debate.

Different style guides (AP, Chicago, MLA, etc.) have different opinions about the use of the serial comma, but it seems the Associated Press guide–used by journalists–omits it in order to save space.

An Issue of Country?

I was relieved to discover I’m not entirely to blame for my ignorance; it seems my Canadian upbringing (and Australian residency) has something to do with it.

While the United States calls for mandatory use of serial commas, Wikipedia claims:

In Australia, Canada, South Africa and the United Kingdom, the serial comma tends not to be used in non-academic publications unless its absence produces ambiguity.

One source also believes:

In the Canadian public education system, it appears that educators actually teach students that it’s wrong to use a serial comma.

Whew! I don’t feel so bad now. Both countries in which I’ve attended school, and worked as an educator, tend not to use serial commas.

The government of Canada’s Language Portal says:

While a comma before the final and is optional, a comma can alter the meaning.

They suggest the serial comma be used when it clears up ambiguity.

What Makes the Most Sense?

Mignon Fogarty–better known as Grammar Girl–believes:

Although the serial comma isn’t always necessary, I favor it because often it does add clarity, and I believe in having a simple, consistent style, instead of trying to decide whether you need something on a case-by-case basis.

Now that I’m aware of the issue, I agree that consistent use of the serial comma avoids having to inspect your sentence to be sure the meaning is clear without it, and that’s why I’ve decided to use it from now on.

Part of me feels the serial comma is unnecessary in simple sentences, but another part of me thinks it’s too much trouble to check for clarity every time you might need to use it.

My questions for you are:

1. In which country were you educated? (I’m particularly interested to hear from other Canadians and Australians to find out if their experiences were similar to mine.)
2. What were you taught about the use of serial commas?
3. What is your take on serial commas today, and why?

For more information on serial commas, check out the following articles:

• Serial Comma, Wikipedia
• Serial Comma, Grammar Girl
• The Serial Comma is OK with Me, Daily Writing Tips
• The Case of the Serial Comma, Professional Training Company

I believe more in the scissors than I do in the pencil .~Truman Capote

We writers are constantly challenged to find the right words–to be descriptive, but not verbose. To make our language leap from the page, but at the same time, control our word choice.

One of the easiest ways to clean up your writing is to omit unnecessary words.

Check out the following articles on words you can cut from your writing, and note your own worst offenders. Next time you write something, see how many you can avoid.

1. Plague Words and Phrases, Guide to Grammar and Writing
2. 51 Overused Adverbs, Nouns and Cliches in Writing ,Quips and Tips for Successful Writers
3. Writing Concise Sentences, Guide to Grammar and Writing
4. Ten Words You Should Cut…to Improve Your Writing Style, Bright Hub
5. Are Vampire Words Sucking the Life Out of Your Writing?, Copyblogger

Once you’re used to writing more concisely, look at one of your older pieces of writing. Notice how the unnecessary words pop out at you?

The biggest one I’ve learned to cut is “that.” Now, I cringe every time I see it used without cause. My other pet peeves are:

• “Firstly, secondly, thirdly,” for, “first, second, third”
• “Try and,” instead of, “try to”
• “Extremely,” used to describe something that cannot really be extreme

I’m not suggesting we strip our writing bare, but I do prefer to see each of our words count. We can do that by cutting weak words and replacing them with stronger ones.

While you don’t need to completely banish these words, use them only occasionally, and with good reason.

What words are you trying to eliminate from your writing? Which ones do you find particularly grating?

Can you suggest any other articles or resources on the art of concise writing?

A couple of weeks ago, we noticed there were certain topics writers just can’t agree on.

Discussion seems to be a huge part of the writing life, especially because there are so many hot topics to choose from. And, as we move toward the digital age, I believe the number of friendly arguments will continue to grow.

If you had to cast your vote for one side or the other, which would you choose?

1. (S)he, S/he, Him/Her vs. They, Them. Should ‘they’ be used in place of ‘he’ or ‘she’ when the person’s sex is unknown? If not, do you prefer to see said person referred to as ‘he or she,’ ‘he/she,’ ‘s/he,’ or ‘(s)he’?
2. Literary vs. Genre. Which style of writing are you committing your life to–literary or genre–and why? Which do you prefer to read?
3. Print books vs. E-books. Will E-books take over print books, or will they continue to be secondary? If you could only choose one format, which would get your vote?
4. Kindle vs. iPad. Devoted reading device, or multi-functionality? With all the recent hype over the iPad, do you think you’ll be converted?
5. Self-Publish vs. Remain Unpublished. If you knew you had a good book on your hands, but you were certain to never be offered traditional publication, would you self-publish and market your book yourself, or remain unpublished? Would your answer be different for fiction and non-fiction?
6. Plotting vs. Pantsing. Do you outline your projects before writing them, or do you pants your way through a number of drafts?
7. First-Person vs. Third-Person. Which point of view is more effective–first-person, or third-person? Does one POV work better for certain types of writing than for others?
8. Self-Edit vs. First Draft. Is it better to edit yourself as you’re writing (so you end up with a polished piece of writing on the first try), or to bang out a quick first draft (and be able to see the overall story before going back to add details and edit)?
9. Routine vs. Random Creativity. Do you commit yourself to either a strict writing regimen or a somewhat flexible schedule, or do you just write whenever the muse takes over? Do you force yourself to write even when you don’t want to?
10. Prologue vs. No Prologue. Are prologues more awkward and annoying than anything, or are they a useful tool? Would you include one in your current work, or should they only be used when absolutely necessary?
11. Library vs. Amazon. Would you rather grab a much-anticipated book from the local library for free (and maybe have to wait until it’s available), or fork out the money to purchase it online or from a bookstore?
12. Rhetorical questions vs. Not. Some agents claim to hate them in queries,  and here’s The Rejectionist‘s not-so-polite look at why rhetorical questions don’t work. Do you think a ‘no rhetorical questions policy’ is too harsh, or are there circumstances in which they’re effective?
13. Agent vs. Direct Submissions. When your work-in-progress is complete and polished, do you plan on searching for a literary agent to represent you, or will you go the route of direct submissions?

So, how do you vote?