Wendigisms

Tuesday October 25, 2011 | By Hieronymus Hawkes | Blogging

I’ve decided to keep track of my new favorite author’s metaphors/similes. The man is Chuck Wendig and I’m going to call these Wendigisms. The man is a prodigy when it comes to metaphor and creative use of the English language, the Maestro of Metaphor. I’ll be mining his metaphorical gold nuggets and keeping a list of my favorites. I’ll be mainlining those gold veins like a heroin junkie. That’s right, I’m addicted. I’m sure Chuck, er, the Maestro, could have created a better metaphor there; I am merely the keeper of the archive. He is a writer of many forms, and he pontificates over at Terribleminds. What … are you still here? I’ll wait…

This is by no means a complete list, in fact it barely scratches the mildewed linoleum surface, but I intend to keep adding more. These are posted here with his permission. I welcome your suggestions.

Here they are in no particular order:

• Built like a sagging brick wall, head like a melting lump of Play-Dough
• art-o-leptic fits of imagination
• squeeze out word-babies
• shoved deep into their colonic grotto*
• slower than a legless caterpillar rolling up a rocky knoll
• A gift basket of hookers
• wriggling free from a uterus made from fractal swirls
• count each pube on your story’s scrotum
• Spit ‘em out like broken teeth
• feel like he’s wearing a tuxedo made of bumblebees
• A hot fresh bucket of words
• we will now refer to lava as “earthjaculate”
• kicked in the junk drawer
• superheroically buoyant
• epic diaper-breach
• fleshy 3-D meatbags
• A burning nugget of possibility tumbling out of the bleak black nowhere
• high on your own stink, huffing your word-fumes
• a swirling hate vortex living in the space between your heart and your gut
• Fatigue nibbles at your marrow like an army of tiny chipmunks
• ejaculate your DNA into every cell of that story
• suicide shoes
• sky the color of a bruised cheek
• pinnacle of paroxysmic pleasure
• You need to master Manuscript Lovemaking 7
• Progress tastes like bacon
• Embrace the rewrite. From behind.
• It’s time to blast my six-shooters at the words and make those pesky f***ers dance
• You pull a mental hammy and s**t your brain-diapers
• work that was as pleasant as a dildo violation
• As if writing is a job on par with “unicorn tamer”
• Other days it feels like you’re birthing a lawn chair from your hindquarters
• create quantum entanglement between your butt and your chair so that you write
• right in the catcher’s mitt known as your “crotch.”
• a thimble full of mouse turds
• align their chakras and birth their story on a beam of light
• bleeding imagination juice on the page
• *poop noise*