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Metaphors! (and similes, which are metaphors using the words “like” or “as”)

Metaphors are great. They can help us describe the indescribable, connect the dots between reader and character (or author), and give tone and shape to a story or essay.

They can also be overwhelming, dreary, cumbersome, and get in the way of understanding.

How do you know which kind of metaphorical writer you are? Grab an old story or essay and let’s lay out some metaphorical guidelines. (Guidelines, btw, is a metaphor. It’s a visual image: something you stay between that helps you understand a concept: what the rules are, without having to list every possible rule.)

The rules for metaphors

Pick one.

No, I’m not kidding, that’s pretty much the only hard-and-fast rule for metaphorical writing. Unless you really REALLY want to write something that sounds like an overdramatic Victorian maiden aunt (and not one of the cool gay ones, one of the ones who couldn’t find a husband, let that destroy her sense of self-worth, and now spends her days destroying everyone else’s self worth) wrote it, pick a metaphor and stick to it.

I was going to write you a whole huge sample story, but then I realized that didn’t make sense and would actually be excruciating for everyone involved, so instead I’m going to give you a story outline and two examples.

Outline

First person story. The point of view character meets someone and falls in love. The other character eventually rejects them. POV character is very upset by the rejection.

That’s enough outline, right? You’ve kind of got a story in mind? Okay, now let’s write it two ways. First, we’ll throw a ton of metaphors at it. Then we’ll pick one and carry it through the story.

Story One

I’d been watching her for half an hour like some kind of stalker, trying to peer out of the corner of my eye or look over my laptop like a groundhog searching for spring, when she noticed me. My heart fluttered in my chest. I could almost feel it beating, pulsing in my throat like a drumbeat. She followed that cadence to my table, and her fluting voice made a counterpoint to the drumming.

[story happens]

I couldn’t believe it. My eyes welled up. A single tear rolled down my cheek. How could she do this to me? My heart sat in my throat like a stone and made it hard to swallow. How had she broken down my walls so easily? Why had I let her in? She had stuck a knife in my heart.

Story Two

I’d been watching her for half an hour when she noticed me. My heart fluttered in my chest, a bird beating its wings against the cage of my ribs. It wanted to sing – I wanted to sing. As though she’d heard, she cocked her head and smiled at me.

[story happens]

As I watched her walk away, the bird of my heart emitted a single plaintive chirp, fluttered once, and lay still. I folded my arms around my ribs to hold it.

Okay then

I hope you can see the difference between those stories. Story One isn’t just a lot of metaphors, it’s a hot mess. Is the character a spy or a groundhog or a groundhog spy? Is the heart a bird, or a stone, and can you stick a knife in a stone anyway? Mixing up visuals like this can create unintentional humor in what should be a very sad story, even if you don’t mix metaphors in the sentence itself. Story Two holds together – it doesn’t have the wordcount of Story One, but does that really matter unless you’re getting paid by the word? And having a single strong visual metaphor bookending or running through your story or essay can help the reader remember what’s going on instead of trying to keep track of a dozen scattered images.

A couple other suggestions that aren’t rules

Don’t try to incorporate all of these suggestions into one piece unless you’re writing a 350K-word behemoth of a novel. No, really. If you’re writing a 750-word story or essay for our weekly challenge grds you’ve only really got room for one, maybe two, good metaphors. And if you’re on the micro grid you’ve got even less. So think before you metaphor.

Think about contrast. In one story about the desert, all of the metaphors were water-based. Lizards swam through seas of sand, dunes were waves, you get the picture. Having a strong contrast between your central metaphor and the solid visuals of your story gives more power to the metaphor.

Think about the literal image of the metaphor. Don’t add unintentional humor to your story with an implausible image. Your heart probably didn’t explode out of your chest at that moment, it felt like it was going to. If your heart has ever stopped beating, I’m glad that you were resuscitated and are able to read this.

Are you using the same metaphor as everyone else? Consider not doing that. Drowning in sorrow. A weight on your shoulders. Your heart lifting. You’ve read all of these things a thousand times and yes, they are comfortable and familiar and understood, but they’re also trite and they don’t sound like you personally wrote them. What if sorrow were carved out of you? What if your responsibilities followed you like baying dogs? Or your joy was a bungee cord flinging you skyward after the drop? As an editor, I tell writers to write the way that only they can – and that often means cutting out phrases that other people wrote, like cliches.

Got a handle on metaphors yet? I’ll look forward to reading them on the grid this month!

About the author:

Rowan submitted exactly one piece of microfiction to YeahWrite before being consumed by the editorial darkside. She spent some time working hard as our Submissions Editor before becoming YeahWrite’s Managing Editor in 2016. She was a BlogHer Voice of the Year in 2017 for her work on intersectional feminism, but she suggests you find and follow WOC instead. In real life she’s been at various times an attorney, aerialist, professional knitter, artist, graphic designer (yes, they’re different things), editor, secretary, tailor, and martial artist. It bothers her vaguely that the preceding list isn’t alphabetized, but the Oxford comma makes up for it. She lives in Portlandia with a menagerie which includes at least one other human. She tells lies at textwall and uncomfortable truths at CrossKnit.

rowan@yeahwrite.me

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