Wendigisms

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*

 

 

 

 

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