• Forest for the Trees
  • THE FOREST FOR THE TREES is about writing, publishing and what makes writers tick. This blog is dedicated to the self loathing that afflicts most writers. A community of like-minded malcontents gather here. I post less frequently now, but hopefully with as much vitriol. Please join in! Gluttons for punishment can scroll through the archives.

    If I’ve learned one thing about writers, it’s this: we really are all alone. Thanks for reading. Love, Betsy

Nothing Compares 2 U

It’s official. I’m a simile slut. I don’t know when to stop. If I can compare something to anything else, I will. Given the chance to use “like” or “as” I’m all over that shit. Look, I spent 40K on a poetry MFA, what the hell else am I gonna do. My editor (yes, ahem, working on ye olde first novel, lol) has pointed it out, exasperation all over the margin notes. An early reader also commented on the PLETHORA ( a word I hate that reminds me of lady parts) of similes: “If the simile is not precise, it fails to do the job it was meant to do and draws attention to the artifice that’s taking place.” Busted. So true. The simile must thread the needle, you know, the one in the haystack. I’m off my fucking rocker with this revision. Please stop me before I kill again.

Similes, talk to me. Pro? Con? Like? As?

Credit: Owlcation

15 Responses

  1. “Billions” is the perfect show for simile lovers. Today’s gem: “Those words just tumbled out of your mouth like a meth addict’s teeth.”

  2. Guilty!

  3. For my tastes, one of the masters at similes in fiction was Lawrence Durrell, and he was able to keep one simile far enough away from the next, in terms of word count, to let each have its full impact before the reader encountered the next. Great similes are ah-ha moments for readers, memorable, delightful, although like analogies they are inherently ephemeral: the writing marches along. The persistence of even dated, worn out, or imprecise similes in common language demonstrates their power and persistence: a ton of bricks, a bat out of hell.

  4. I did not mean for that reply (“for my tastes, one of the masters)” to be anonymous, but every time we comment using WordPress, Facebook, etc., we authorize some company to access and sell us.

  5. I (did not mean to post that reply (“For my tastes, one of the masters”) as anonymous, but I am trying to avoid authorizing Facebook, WordPress etc to exploit my comment to sell data. If any readers here comment on so0me other site through Disqus, I recommend reading their so-called privacy policy before doing it again.

  6. Plethora would be a LOVELY girl’s name! Like Chlorine. Or Taffeta!

  7. Plethora would be a LOVELY girl’s name! Like Chlorine. Or Taffeta!

  8. Sadly, the closest we get to similes these days is when streamers continually remind us to “like, subscribe and hit the bell for notifications”.
    Regarding your distaste for the reminder-or-lady-parts word, it reminds me of story:
    At a funeral, the deceased’s widow was approached by a stranger. He asked if he could say a word and when she nodded and he whispered, “plethora” in her ear “Thank you,” she sobbed, “that means a lot.”

  9. do what I say, not as I do.

  10. Sounds like a walk in the park.

  11. A simile is like a metaphor without the “like.” I prefer metaphor but they are as tough to write as a poem, short story, or novel.

  12. I won’t repeat here the scandalous comment I made yesterday on your FB post on this same subject. I will only offer that my writing teacher, Captain Fiction, cautioned us most sternly regarding the use of similes and their brethren. He may have said they were razors that few knew how to wield with skill, though many felt called to slash and hack with them on the page.

  13. A friend got back an edit, and in one part she was told, “All the similes in this paragraph are good. Choose one.” Good luck with it all.

  14. Similes are similar to smiles as Trump’s pants on fire while blowing in the wind are like a barbecue tent in a hurricane.

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