Author: terribleminds (page 403 of 464)

WORDMONKEY

March 12, 2012 / 5 Comments

Oooh! Me! Me! Call On Me!

Another “Where’s Wendig?” update comin’ atchoo.

• I spoke with Kelly Carlin (daughter of, yes, the nation’s greatest comedian) at her Smodcast show, Waking From The American Dream. I talk about writing and Blackbirds and hallucinogens and vaginas and all kinds of crazy stuff. Give a listen here.

• Looks like I’ll be rocking a Blackbirds launch party on April 24th (Tues) at 7:30pm at Mysterious Galaxy in Redondo Beach (Los Angeles). Where my LA peeps at? Who’s out on the West Coast? Hope you’ll swing by! I’ll be in the City of Angels for just shy of a week, I think.

• I talk a bit about how having a kid changes a writer’s life in unexpected ways over at The Qwillery. Go there, and leave a comment — you then get a chance at winning a paperback copy of Blackbirds!

• “Chuck Wendig has a reputation for being insightful, foul mouthed and as American as long dusty roads, apple pie and presidential assassinations, so it comes as no surprise that his latest novel Blackbirds is clever, vile and firmly set in the heartlands of the USA.” Blackbirds nets an 8/10 at Starburst Magazine!

• “…in the coming months you’ll be seeing a lot of what I’d like to call ‘sandpaper reviews’ of this book. There will be a metric ton of words like gritty, abrasive, rough, harsh, and edgy. Yes, this book would make a sailor blush. Yes, horrible, terrible, awful, no good, very bad stuff happens to almost everyone. And yes, you’ll be a little shocked if you’re like seventeen year old me. But honestly, by the time I was twenty pages into this book I wouldn’t have put it down for $50. By the time I was 80% of the way through, I wouldn’t have taken $250. Understand, I’m not a rich man, and $250 would do a lot for me. But I HAD to know what would happen to Miriam.” My Awful Reviews gives a glowing high-five to Blackbirds! *happy dance*

• “Reading Blackbirds feels a little like you’re riding a rollercoaster; after tipping over that first crest you’re pulled forward with a momentum that is paralyzing and a force that is unstoppable.” Fantasy Fiction gives the book five stars! *spins around violently until throwing up with sheer dizzying joy*

• “Read this book. Trust me. Blackbirds takes you for a late night cruise down a dark and twisted road without the benefit of headlights. Something bad is just around the bend. You can feel it coming and there’s not a damned thing you can do to stop it.” Woo! Another rave review, this one from Sean Cummings (Poltergeeks). *guzzles whiskey and punches a stuffed pheasant*

• I chat with Mighty Matt Forbeck over at his website: we talk Kickstarter and Angry Robot and all kinds of good stuff. He’s a great writer in his own right (do read Carpathia).

• Speaking of Kickstarter! Bait Dog‘s Kickstarter event has only a week left! And we are (at the time of this blog writing) at $4730, which means we are a) completely funded for the first novel and b) underfunded by $1270 to unlock the next novel. Spread the word! If you’ve pledged: thank you! If you’ve shared this with others: thank you! If you gave me a cookie: thank you!

• And Smallsmall Thing, a documentary about the tribulations of a young Liberian girl (on which I did some script work) — has crossed the halfway mark at Kickstarter! Very excited to see this come to light.

• Finally: OH HELLO DINOCALYSPE NOW COVER. *strokes you lovingly*

March 9, 2012 / 80 Comments

Mac Zealots! Quickly! To Me! To Me!

So, I asked a while back about Macs.

I bought a Mac Mini.

I used that Mac Mini as a home theater component. It worked pretty well like that.

Then, yesterday, my PC pooped the bed and fell down the stairs and ate a gun.

I think it’s the video card — but could be anything. I used to know my way around the guts of a computer but it’s been a handful of years now since I really paid attention to that sort of thing.

Anywho — that’s not the point. Point is, at present, I am now a brand new bonafide Mac user! And it’s been fairly nice so far. This little keyboard lets me fly on it. I love the magic trackpad thing — the gestures are really sweet in terms of letting me zip through screens and open the dashboard and whatever.

Just the same, I’m all a bit lost.

So, I once more turn to you:

What do I need? What do I need to know? What are essential apps?

Further, I’m going to need to do some word processing on this bad-boy real soon, so I’ll need to know about that, too. What’re my best options? I want — nay, need — a word processor that will let me read and utilize Word’s TRACK CHANGES option, so does that mean I’m stuck with the Mac version of Word? Talk to me about Scrivener, too, and how well it talks to Word and… y’know, all that crizzap.

Help a brother out, Mac people.

And if anybody comes in here making a ding at PCs or Macs, I will punt your perineum through your brain pan. This is not the time or the place to take bullshit sides in a made-up tribal tech war. Stuff it.

Thanks!

March 9, 2012 / 44 Comments

Flash Fiction Challenge: “I’ve Chosen Your Words”

Last week’s challenge — Song Shuffle! — is alive and absorbing your gaze.

Forgive the lateness of this — but yesterday, my PC took a shit-bath and now I’ve gone and pulled the Mac Mini from off the television and am using that as my current ‘puter.

Here’s the challenge:

This past week, I talked about word choice, so it seems only fitting I choose words for you.

I have, in fact, chosen 20 words.

You must choose 10 of these words and use them throughout your ~1000 word flash fiction story.

Might be tricky, but hey, that’s why this is a challenge and not, say, me tickling your privates with a feather.

The ten words:

Beast, brooch, cape, dinosaur, dove, fever, finger, flea, gate, insult, justice, mattress, moth, paradise, research, scream, seed, sparrow, tornado, university.

You’ve got a week. Friday, 15th, by noon EST.

Post your stories online (not here in the comments, please) and link back here.

Now go and gnaw on the words I have chosen.

March 8, 2012 / 5 Comments

Paul Elwork: The Terribleminds Interview

So, here’s Paul Elwork. He’s someone I don’t really know but, when I pinged for interviews, there he was. And I thought, okay, let’s take a look at his book and — well, from that point forward, I knew it was a good idea to get him here. Plus, he’s a Pennsylvania citizen, and that means he gets special privilege. And a hat made of cheesesteaks. Anyway. The paperback edition of his novel, The Girl Who Would Speak for the Dead, is available now. Visit his website at: www.paulelwork.com. And check him on the Twitters (@paulelwork).

This is a blog about writing and storytelling. So, tell us a story. As short or long as you care to make it. As true or false as you see it.

There once was a man from Nantucket. Nice guy, but a little self-indulgent.

Why do you tell stories?

Because it’s what my inefficient brain does best. And because I feel most myself when doing it, as opposed to doubting myself, making excuses about why I should be doing something else, etc.

Give the audience one piece of writing or storytelling advice:

Write as often as you can. Form that habit—fit it in wherever possible—just write and write. I’m a really big offender on this point, in that I often “can’t” write unless the conditions are ideal, and it has cost me untold hours of mistakes and discovery and great stuff I couldn’t have imagined I had in me. I have to teach myself this lesson over and over again, for some reason. Damn inefficient brain.

You live near Philly, yeah? What’s your favorite—and least-favorite—thing about the city?

I think the noise and bustle of the city—of any city—are both my favorite and least favorite things, depending on my mood. That’s why it’s great to live so close on the outskirts, only a short drive even from downtown Philly. But I can turn around and hurry back to where it feels like I’m living in the woods out in the hinterlands.

What’s great about being a writer, and conversely, what sucks about it?

The best thing is probably the excitement of a new idea, one you know has legs. It’s like Friday evening driving home from work—full of possibility. That sense of renewed hope, as if all your battered wishes could be fulfilled with this shining thing, this idea. What sucks is the inverse; the feeling that you’ll never have a good idea again, and that it may as well have been someone else who had the past ideas. And the waiting. All of the waiting inherent to the writing life sucks.

The Girl Who Would Speak for the Dead—where did that book come from? What’s the originating point for you?

The idea for the book came from two places: the true story of the Fox sisters, the claimed spirit mediums who started the Spiritualist movement in the nineteenth century, and a historic riverside estate at the edge of Philadelphia, Glen Foerd on the Delaware. I borrowed heavily from Glen Foerd as the setting—taking the garden playhouse pretty much straight from the estate—and in using the germ of the Fox sisters’ story, I recast it, moved it in time, and fictionalized everything.

What does this book say about death?

The book definitely proceeds from the idea of death as an end. The story concerns itself with how the living deal with each other and those they’ve lost in the face of mortality, and the roles of grief and belief in doing so. It’s also about secrets, or maybe more precisely, about the secret lives people lead.

Favorite word? And then, the follow up: Favorite curse word?

“Ridiculous” seems to be my favorite word. Over the years I’ve been made fun of for using it a lot. My favorite curse word is easily “motherfucker.” Those consonants kick.

Favorite alcoholic beverage? (If cocktail: provide recipe. If you don’t drink alcohol, fine, fine, a non-alcoholic beverage will do.)

I love India Pale Ales. I love beer in general—and wine and the occasional single-malt Scotch or vodka martini—but if we’re talking about favorites, I have to say a nicely textured IPA. There are so many great ones, but I’ll throw Stone Brewing’s Arrogant Bastard Ale on top of the pile. Make of that what you will.

You don’t get away with just one IPA recommendation. Recommend three more good IPAs folks should try.

Ah, IPAs—so many good ones. Dogfish Head’s 90-Minute IPA (sometimes called an imperial IPA) clocks in at 9% ABV and is absolutely fantastic. Each one packs a little wallop, though, so careful about knocking them back. Victory Brewing’s HopDevil IPA is very rich and complex—definitely one to try if you like such things. I also have to mention Yards Brewing’s IPA, now an old favorite of mine. And all of this beer talk is making me thirsty…

Recommend a book, comic book, film, or game: something with great story. Go!

I’m going to sound like your middle-school English teacher, but I recommend Great Expectations. The pure storytelling of Dickens’s novels still astounds me, and this one has got to be my favorite. If this book seems like kid stuff in your mind (and boring kid stuff, at that), consider this passage: “And then I looked at the stars, and considered how awful it would be for a man to turn his face up to them as he froze to death, and see no help or pity in all the glittering multitude.” Oh man, I really am like your middle-school English teacher.

What skills do you bring to help the humans win the inevitable zombie war?

I’ve never fired a gun, I’m not very handy, and I don’t have even a Cub Scout’s wilderness skills. Really hoping they’ll need someone delivering smartass asides amid the horror and gore.

You’ve committed crimes against humanity. They caught you. You get one last meal.

Salmon stuffed with crab and covered in Béarnaise sauce. That would be a high note at the end of a murderous career.

What’s next for you as a storyteller? What does the future hold?

My sons have asked me a number of times if I’ll ever write a book for kids—especially my older son, who’s eight. I love so many children’s books, and it is a dream of mine to write one. So right now I’m doing that—writing a creepy book for my sons and for the kid that was (is) me. We’ll see how it goes.

You’re writing a kids’ book? What’s the trick to storytelling for children?

I think the literary/storytelling values are pretty much the same. It’s still about Faulkner’s line regarding the “human heart in conflict with itself” for me. You want to infuse the work with your best conception of truth in a thousand ways, even while providing excitement and adventure, even if supernatural elements are at play (as they are in the book I’m writing). If you’re writing for 10–12 year olds, say, you don’t want to write too far over their heads. I’ve found that this makes me strive even harder to say things simply, which I can’t help but see as a good thing. My prose is sort of stripped down, anyway, so I don’t find this to be too confining stylistically.

On the other hand, maybe the bigger danger is dumbing the work down too much because you think kids can’t handle it. Obviously it makes you think differently about adult issues in whatever you’re writing—and any violence gets special handling, as well—but it can’t be condescending. The classics for children we keep returning to—in books, movies, anything—don’t present themselves as if for little imbeciles. Kids have complex emotional lives, too. They share the strange compulsion of adults to lose ourselves in narrative even while grappling with the complicated and confusing elements of our lives within these narratives, however they are staged or play out. And it seems to me, if we’re not striving to achieve both effects—in any kind of fiction writing—then why bother?

March 7, 2012 / 18 Comments

Why You Should Be Watching “Awake”

I had little interest in watching Awake on NBC.

I was like… ennh. Okay. Another cop show. This time — with a twist! He’s split between two realities! Or something! I don’t care! I want ice cream and tacos! Fuck yeah! Woo!

Further, I was still a little butt-chapped by NBC’s decision to shelve Community.

Except, then they unshelved Community. Earning a little good will.

Then they started showing promos for Awake.

Jason Isaacs as a detective who loses his wife and/or his son in a car accident — every night he goes to sleep and wakes up in a reality where one or the other survived. But it wasn’t the premise that sold me. The promos revealed a thoughtful, mature show that possessed a gimmick but did not rely upon it.

I knew something was up when my wife saw the promo, said, “Oh, that looks good.”

Suddenly, my interest was piqued.

And last night, I finally got around to watching the DVR’ed pilot episode.

You need to be watching this show.

A Show Written By Writers

That sounds strange, I know. “Chuck, aren’t all TV shows written by writers, you smeg-mouthed dope-donkey?” First: how rude. Second: technically, yes, writers write all shows. But that doesn’t mean they’re the ones in control. Or that what they wrote ends up on the screen. Hollywood offers an ecosystem whereby a great many individuals with absolutely zero sense of good storytelling get to call the shots.

This is not that show.

The show steps out of the gate and in the dialogue makes clear that it’s paying attention to the laws of good storytelling. The one shrink in the one reality tells Michael Britten (Isaacs) to start at the beginning. But the main character says “No, let’s start right now.” Meaning, we’re not going to get a dumptruck of back-chatter and exposition dumped on our heads. We’re going to move through the story where it is now, and get details when we need them — and never before.

Sharp dialogue, strong plotting, damaged characters? This is a writer’s show. (And here my bias as a writer is made clear: any show with quality components and strong story is, to me, a writer’s show.)

The Lost Vibe

I remember watching the first episode of Lost and finding myself more and more transfixed — and pleasantly bewildered — by what was going on. Up until that point where Charlie utters that famous line: “Guys… where are we?” Then, DOOSH: the Lost logo hit and there I was left blinking and wondering just how a show this sublime snuck past the bouncers in TV-Land. (How Lost ended up is a discussion for another time.)

When I watched Awake, I got the same vibe — the same freaky frequency drew me closer. All these little twists and uncertainties and slow reveals. I saw there thinking, “What is happening? What’s really going on?”

They took a very simple concept — plane crash on an island, cop pinballs between two realities (one of which may be a dream) — and gave it to us with subtlety and grace. With a focus on character and story above the contrivance of plot or the cleverness of the logline and yet while still promising that what you’re seeing is (as the therapist played by B.D. Wong puts it) just the tip of an iceberg.

Could it go off the rails?

Sure. Any show could.

But I like having a show so firmly on the rails first, and this is very much that.

Jason Isaacs

Isaacs is, to me, the devil. He plays bad very well. It’s not just Malfoy. It’s Admiral Zhao, or the guy from The Patriot. Isaacs is a chilly, scary dude. So to have him come out of the gate with this protagonist — who feels equally chilly here but yet contains a core of warmth and soul — who you care about so strongly from the get-go, well, it’s a win for me.

Rare To Find A Show That Demands Patience

I’ve no idea if the show will reward that patience — I’m not a haruspex, tearing the intestinal wire from forth my television to examine it for glimpses of the future — but I do know that the show is demanding my patience, which to me is a feature and not a bug. I like a show that wants me to sit down and go for the ride. I don’t want a story to pander to me, to shake its moneymaker in a desperate grab to keep my attention between commercial breaks. This is a show that’s subtle, that’s got nuance, that is asking me to chill the fuck out while it tells me the story it needs to tell.

Again, will it reward? No idea.

But if the pilot is any indication, we’re at least in for an earnest attempt.

You can catch up on the pilot (if it’s still live at the time of this linking) here.

And the show airs tomorrow night (Thurs) at 10pm. Check it.

March 6, 2012 / 68 Comments

25 Things You Should Know About Word Choice

1. A Series Of Word Choices

Here’s why this matters: because both writing and storytelling comprise, at the most basic level, a series of word choices. Words are the building blocks of what we do. They are the atoms of our elements. They are the eggs in our omelets. They are the shots of liquor in our cocktails. Get it right? Serendipity. Get it wrong? The air turns to arsenic, that cocktail makes you puke, this omelet tastes like balls.

2. Words Define Reality

Words are like LEGO bricks: the more we add, the more we define the reality of our playset. “The dog fucked the chicken” tells us something. “The Great Dane fucked the chicken” tells us more. “The Great Dane fucked the bucket of fried chicken on the roof of Old Man Dongweather’s barn, barking with every thrust” goes the distance and defines reality in a host of ways (most of them rather unpleasant). You can over-define. Too many words spoil the soup. Find the balance between clarity, elegance, and evocation.

3. The “Hot And Cold” Game

You know that game — “Oh, you’re cold, colder, colder — oh! Now you’re getting hot! Hotter! Hotter still! Sizzling! Yay, you found the blueberry muffin I hid under the radiator two weeks ago!” –? Word choice is like a textual version of that game where you try to bring the reader closer to understanding the story you’re trying to tell. Strong, solid word choice allows us to strive for clarity (hotter) and avoid confusion (colder).

4. Most With Fewest

Think of it like a different game, perhaps: you’re trying to say as much as possible with as few words as you can muster. Big ideas put as briefly as you are able. Maximum clarity with minimum words.

5. The Myth Of The Perfect Word

Finding the perfect word is as likely as finding a downy-soft unicorn with a pearlescent horn riding a skateboard made from the bones of your many enemies. Get shut of this notion. The perfect is the enemy of the good. For every sentence and every story you have a plethora of right words. Find a good word. Seek a strong word. But the hunt for a perfect word will drive you into a wide-eyed froth. Though, according to scholars, “nipplecookie” is in fact the perfect word. That’s why Chaucer used it so often. Truth.

6. No One Perfect Word, But A Chumbucket Of Shitty Ones

For every right word, you have an infinity of wrong ones.

7. Awkward, Like That Kid With The Headgear And The Polio Foot

You might use a word that either oversteps or fails to meet the idea you hope to present. A word in that instance would be considered awkward. “That dinner fornicated in his mouth” is certainly a statement, and while it’s perhaps not a technically incorrect metaphor, it’s just plain goofy (and uh, kinda gross). You mean that the flavors fornicated, or more likely that the flavors of the meal were sensual, or that they inspired lewd or libidinous thoughts. (To which I might suggest you stop French-kissing that forkful of short ribs, pervhouse.) To go with the food metaphor for a moment (“meat-a-phor?”), you ever take a bite of food and, after it’s already in your mouth, discover something in there that’s texturally off? Bit of gristle, stem, bone, eyeball, fingernail, whatever? The way you’re forced to pause the meal and decipher the texture with your mouth is the same problem a reader will have with awkward word choice. It obfuscates meaning and forces the reader to try to figure out just what the fuck you’re talking about.

8. Ambiguous, Like That Girl With That Thing Outside That Place

Remember how I said earlier that words are like LEGO, blah blah blah help define reality yadda yadda poop noise? Right. Ambiguous word choice means you’re not defining reality very well in your prose. “Bob ate lunch. It was good. Then he did something.” Lunch? Good? Something? Way to wow ’em with your word choice, T.S. Eliot. To repeat: aim for words that are strong, confident, and above all else, clarifying.

9. Incorrect, Like That Guy Who Makes Up Shit When He’s Drunk

Incorrect word choice means you’re using the wrong damn word. As that character says in that movie, “I do not think it means what you think it means.” Affect, effect. Comprise, compose. Sensual, sensuous. Elicit, illicit. Eminent, immanent, imminent. Allude, elude. Must I continue? Related: if you write “loose” instead of “lose,” I cannot be held accountable if I kick you so hard in your butthole you choke on a hemorrhoid.

10. Step Sure-Footedly

Point of fact: the English language was invented by a time-traveling spam-bot who was trapped in a cave with a crazy monk. Example: The word “umbrage” means “offense,” so, to take umbrage means to take offense. Ah, but it also means the shade or protection afforded by trees. I used to take the second definition and assume it carried over to the people portion of that definition. Thus, to “take umbrage” meant in a way to “take shelter” with a person, as in, to both be under the same shadow of the same tree. I used the word incorrectly for years like some shithead. If you’re uncertain about the use of any word, it’s easy enough to either not use it or use Google to define it (“define: [word]” is the search you need). Do not trust that the English language makes sense or that your recollection of its madness is pristine. It will bite you every time.

11. The Barbaric Barf-Yawn That Is Your First Draft

This is not a hard or fast rule (hell, none of this is), but in my highly-esteemed opinion (translation: debatable bullshit mumbled by a guy who thinks “cock-waffle” should be a part of our collective daily vocabulary), you don’t need — or want! — to refine your word choice in the first draft. That initial draft is, for me, a screaming weeping blubberfest where I just want to cry all the words out without any care in the world how they get onto the page. Second and subsequent drafts, however, are a good time to zero in on problems big and small. Don’t spend your first draft scrutinizing word choice.

12. Verbs: Strong Like Bull

For every action you’ll find a dozen or more verb-flavors of that action. You can drink your coffee or you can gulp, sip, guzzle, or inhale it. You can run down the street or you can jog, bolt, sprint, dash, saunter, or hotfoot it. You can have sex with someone or you can fuck ’em, hump ’em, make love to ’em, or ride ’em like Seabiscuit in a gimp mask. (Do they make gimp masks for horses? To the Googlemobile!) Use a strong verb that clarifies the action and makes sense in the context of the scene. A hostage escaping his kidnappers isn’t going to scamper away — he’s going to barrel, hurtle, bolt, or if you’re a fan of not-fixing-what-ain’t-broke, he’ll run like a motherfucker. If the base-level verb gives you maximum potency and clarity, then use it.

13. “I Like Playing With My Cats!” John Ejaculated From His Mouth

Mmmyeah, one caveat to the “strong clarifying verb” thing — it doesn’t apply to dialogue tags. No, no. Don’t resist. Hold still. Stop trying to chew through the duct tape. I know you want to your characters to yelp, blurt, scream, gibber, shriek, murmur, mumble, babble, explain, exhort, plead, interrupt, erupt, exclaim, and ejaculate constantly, but don’t do it. Do. Not. Do. It. Rely on “say/said” 80-90% of the time. You can, when seeking variety and clarification of action, use another dialogue tag.

14. The Verb “To Be”

Am. Is. Was. To Be. Will Be. Whatever. I’m not one of those who will tell you to cut out every instance of the verb “to be” in all its simple-headed forms because sometimes, simplicity is best. And yet, overuse of that verb may weaken your writing. Look for instances where the verb can be replaced by a stronger one or where it adds needless roughage to a sentence. “Barry is playing with himself in the corner” is better as “Barry plays with himself in the corner.” If you say, “It is my opinion that Rush Limbaugh should be stuffed with dynamite and exploded like a beached whale,” you’d be better off with, “I believe Rush Limbaugh…” instead. Oh, and if a sentence starts with “there is” or “it was,” you should attack that sentence with lasers.

15. The Word “Specificity” Is Really Fun To Say

No, really. Try it, I’ll wait. … Are you done yet? Specificity. Specificity. Spehhh-siiiihh-fiiiihh-sihhhh-teeee. Anyway. Moving on. Words help us define reality — nouns doubly so. Creature? Animal? Mammal? Cat? Panther? Housecat? Tomcat? Russian Blue? The North Canadian Spangled Bobtail? There I charted specificity to the point where it became useful and then crossed over into absurd bullshit. If I tell the reader that the cat is a “housecat,” we all get it. But if I say that the cat is a “Lambkin dwarf cat,” only a handful of cat geeks are ever going to grok my lingo. Aim for specific, but realize you can get too specific.

16. The Strong Spice Of Adverb And Adjective

Sometimes, a verb or noun just doesn’t tell the whole tale. I can say “housecat,” but I mean, “calico kitty with a sprightly attitude and a penchant for meowing loudly.” Calico. Sprightly. Loudly. These all modify the verbs and nouns present in order to paint a picture. Adverbs and adjectives provide both a deeper sense of specificity while also providing flavor or color to the world. They’re a strong spice. Use when you need, not when you want. Say what you mean and no more.

17. Adverbs Are Not Your Mortal Foe

Writers often bandy about that old crunchy nugget of of penmonkey wisdom — NO ADVERBS — as if it is bulletproof. As if a gang of adverbs shanked that writer’s mother in the kidneys as she stooped over to water the hydrangeas. Adverbs are not birthed from the Devil’s hell-womb. They’re just words. Did you know that “never” is an adverb? As is “here?” And “tomorrow?” You can rely too heavily on adverbs (and amateurish writers do). You can also use adverbs that are unnecessary or that sound clunky when staple-gunned to the end of a sentence. And adverbs paired with dialogue tags will often chafe one’s taint, but that doesn’t mean you need to hunt down every last adverb with a spear-gun.

18. The Thesaurus Is Not Satan’s Own Demon Gospel

The thesaurus is not a bad book (or, these days, website). I love the thesaurus because I have a brain like a rust-eaten bucket — shit slips through all the time. I’m constantly snapping my fingers saying, “There’s a word that’s like this other word but not quite and OH SHITDAMNIT I CAN’T REMEMBER IT WHO AM I AND WHY AM I WEARING LADIES’ UNDERWEAR?” So, I turn to the thesaurus not to look for a better, fancier word but instead to find the word my feeble mouse-eaten brain cannot properly recall. It is not the thesaurus that is the root of all evil but rather the love of the thesaurus that urges writers to commit the sin of pompous word choice. It is not a crutch; do not lean upon it.

19. Big Words For Tiny Penises

Smaller words are nearly always better than big ones. Big words put distance between you and the reader. Each added syllable is a speed-bump. Don’t use word choice to sound smart. Don’t talk circles around the reader. Your job is communication. Is your story a bridge between you and the reader — or is it a wall?

20. The Jingly Jangle Of Jargon

Jargon is when you rely on technical or area-specific terminology to get across your point. Jargon uses a limited vocabulary to speak to a small circle of people, and this is true whether you’re talking about some aspect specific to knight’s armor, a scientific theory, or the manufacture of space-age dildo technology. The test is easy. Ask yourself, will most people know what the fuck I’m talking about? If yes, carry on. If no, either use plain-spoken language or take the time to explain that shit you just slung into my eyes.

21. The Plumber Versus The Aristocrat

Certainly you have some leeway in terms of choosing the correct words for your expected audience. If you’re writing a novel about baseball, nobody would fault you for using a metric crap-sack of baseball terminology. You’ll certainly write different prose if you expect your audience to comprise plumbers instead of an aristocrats. Still, you’ll find value in reading to be read widely, not just by a subset of potential readers.

22. Junk In The Trunk

I’ll admit it: I love junk words. They are the greasy hamburger of prose, delicious to me and plump with empty calories. Effectively! In theory! Very! Happen to! Point is! You know? They offer minimal — if any! — functionality. Hunt them down with merciless abandon. Stomp them with cleated shoe until they squeal.

23. From The Department Of Redundancy Department

The repetition of one or several words can have a potent effect — but what happens a lot of time is, you repeat words accidentally. “The day was hot and heat vapors rose off the ground. The heat sapped Quinn’s energy.” Hot, heat, heat. A reader will trip on such repetition. And then he’ll fall down some steps and break his coccyx. Man, “coccyx” sounds like some kind of dinosaur bird, doesn’t it? THE MIGHTY COCCYX SWOOPS TO FEAST ON THE BABY TURTLEBUGS. I dunno. Shut up. Don’t judge me.

24. The Sound Of Words Matter

Words play off other words. Together they form rhythm. Choose words that pair well together, like red wine and steak. Or Pabst Blue Ribbon and hipster shame. Or heroin and delicious urinal cakes. Shakespeare knew that rhythm mattered and so chose words that slotted into iambic pentameter. The way you hear the rhythm of the words is to read your work aloud. Do that and you’ll find the flow — or, more importantly, find what’s damming the flow so you can fix it with proper word choice and sentence construction.

25. You Will Be Judged On The Words You Choose

Consider word choice to be a test posited by the audience. Make errors (lose/loose), they will see you for the rube you are. Write by relying on big words, heavy jargon and purple prose and they will see you as sticking your literary nose in the air. The result is the same: they will close the book and then beat you to death with it. They are also likely to violate your pallid carcass with various kitchen implements.

Write to be read. Choose words that have flavor but do not overwhelm, that reach out instead of pushing back, that sound right to the ear and carry with them a kind of rhythm. Write with confidence, not with arrogance. Don’t be afraid to play with words. But be sure to let the reader play with you.