No Puffy Clouds, No Twinkling Stars

You might agree that when we are faced with a choice to make, we are likely to choose what we are accustomed to. The familiar and comfortable. The tried and true. If you do much reading, you may find that some authors tend to do the same. We choose a word or a phrase that first comes to mind. I just did it in the second line with “the tried and true.” We do this without considering that the first word or phrase that comes to mind is a cliché, one of the surest ways to threaten a writer’s literary credibility.

Tried and True or Tired and True

There’s a reason Roget created his first compendium of synonyms in the 1800s—he wanted to become a better writer. We have to give him credit for realizing something was amiss. Many of us don’t. How many times have we wished that the author had used a word other than “puffy” to describe the clouds, another word for “twinkling” to describe the stars. Apparently, this also bothered Roget.

Physician, Heal Thyself

I realize that I am inviting scrutiny of my own writing. I know I let things slip through. How about: better safe than sorry, a drop in the bucket, a fish out of water, too little too late? I’m one of those authors who might think it’s okay because the phrase so perfectly suits the moment. Yes, but does it suit the reader? Where’s my freshness, where’s my creativity, where’s my Thesaurus?

The Baby and the Bath Water

On the other hand, a cliché can be useful, a verbal shorthand you might say. If we choose wisely, it might do the trick. In my murder mystery, Initial Shock, I had to make a strong distinction between two attractive, dynamic professional men. For one of the men, I used a cliché by design; I did not with the other: “It was clear to her that David Preisler may at times be the life of the party, but it was the gravity of Paul Farrow’s presence that established the orbit of every room he entered.”

But Wait! There’s More

Forget phrases. How about death by adverb? Softly, quietly, seriously, calmly, smoothly, gently, and so on. Okay, so there is a reason these words exist. They have meaning. But how often do we use them? They are so easy to put into dialogue. They so quickly come to mind. But do we have to use a descriptor at all or can we take a “beat,” as it’s called, and just give the character something to do that describes what’s going on: “He rested his hand on hers and whispered his apology.”

Here’s a snippet of Nathaniel Hawthorne writing about a fountain: “…patches of moss, the tufts of grass, the trailing maiden-hair, and all sorts of verdant weeds that thrive in the cracks and crevices of moist marble, tell us that Nature takes the fountain back into her great heart, and cherishes it as kindly as if it were a woodland spring.”

Google is My Friend

To be honest, I no longer use a Thesaurus. To use a cliché (Ha), time marches on! Now, I Google everything. No kidding—very nearly everything. I don’t trust my own choices of easy accommodating words. I once wanted something other than the word “rippled.” So, I Googled it up and determined that I preferred the water “jigging” in the stream. There was a time when I considered it a bit of a nuisance. Now, in my pursuit (wish, hope, prayer) to become a better writer, I delight in leaving the ordinary behind.