Kurt R.A. Giambastiani

People have told me that I’m too tough in my critiques. Privately, I’ve been told that these “The View from Here” posts are too harsh, too critical. “New writers will make mistakes,” I’m told. “That’s what editors are for.” Poppycock.

A number of years ago, I used to read slush for a magazine. It was unpaid intern-type-stuff, but it taught me a great deal (as all good unpaid intern-type-stuff should). It taught me about deadlines and time-management. It taught me a lot about publishing, as I was able to see a lot of it from behind the scenes. It taught me the truth of the adage: The only way to make a small fortune in publishing is to start with a large fortune.

But most of all, it taught me to think like an editor.

An editor is like an alcoholic in a 12-step program–Let’s skip right over the joke about how most of them actually are alcoholics in 12-step programs and move right to what I mean by that.–i.e., editors read MSS one page at a time. Screw up on Page One, they’ll never read Page Two. After all, why go farther? Why read any more if page one just sucks? They won’t. Screw up on Page One–hell, screw up in Paragraph One–and you’re done.

So yes, I’m tough. And now, onto the next item I see a lot in some of the fiction posted out there: Bad metaphors and stupid similes.

Bad Metaphor! No Biscuit!

Metaphors and similes, in all their classical, shortened, and extended forms, are mainstays of creative writing.  A few authors avoid them, striving for a strictly descriptive style, but for most of us the metaphor and simile are were the fun comes in. They’re the stuff of imagery, and when we hit upon just the right metaphor…magic! If you’re an avid reader, there are probably a couple of beauties that spring instantly to mind. For me, one of the best comes from Proust, in the chapter “Combray” from Swann’s Way, wherein he describes the fuchsias that hang before the stone front of the old church and “whose flowers had no more important business, when they were big enough to taste the joys of life, than to go and cool their purple, congested cheeks” against the stone. I just love that image.

Unfortunately, we’re not all as good as Proust at drawing our metaphors and similes. Often the classical forms themselves are too clunky, but by far the most egregious and common errors are (a) using too many of the damned things, and (b) using ones that are just plain bad.

Just Put the Metaphor Down, Son

Too many metaphors, even good ones, make the prose heavy and overworked. My work reading slush drilled this one into me, so I don’t have examples of overuse in my own stories, but it’s easy to spot. “He stood there like a tall tree, leaning against the doorframe like a ship taking on water, staring at her like a cat watching a mousehole.” The word “like” is a danger-word anyway (I’ll cover this in “Wiggle Words”), so seeing it three times in a sentence sends up a red flag for many reasons. But the classical forms for metaphors and similes (“Stood like a tree,” and “Tight as a drum,” respectively) are stodgy and unimaginative. Used sparingly, they can be okay, but as with any structure, repetitive use is death to lively prose.

Seriously?

Bad metaphors/similes are even worse and, sad to say, I have an example of one of these. It’s one of those phrases that sound great in the heat of the writing battle, but upon sober reflection it just, well, it just stinks. Fortunately, you won’t find it on this site. Unfortunately, you can find it in one of my published novels. Even more to my chagrin, you’ll find it in Chapter One, Page One, Paragraph One, Sentence One.

From Unraveling Time:

It was hot—hotter than Hamish thought it could get anywhere beyond a volcanic caldera.

Well, at least I avoided the classical simile structure. It just clunks; it just doesn’t sound right, and apt though it might be, clunky misshapen similes clomp about the page like Richard III and should not be tolerated. Is it the worst example out there? Not by a long shot. You’ve seen the meme. “Examples from high school students’ papers.”

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

She had a deep, throaty laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

The dancer rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her like a dog at a fire hydrant.

Real or not, they’re good examples of baaaaad writing, and not as bad as some of the metaphors I’ve seen in the slush piles or in online blogs.

Next Time: Wiggle Words