Tag: Books

What I learned about writing: It’s not a writing room unless…

You have this incredible, fully working scale model of an Airbus A380 coming into land…

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Imagine this: a majestic Airbus A380, the undisputed queen of the skies, gently descending, gear down, flaps extended, ready for touchdown… Now imagine that happening, not on a sprawling tarmac, but in your very own living room. Well, almost!

That’s the scenario I found myself in recently, courtesy of an incredible, fully functional scale model of the iconic Airbus A380. And let me tell you, this isn’t just a static display piece; oh no. This magnificent machine, stretching over a meter in length, has actually flown as a remote-controlled aircraft.

Now I can simulate tornadoes.

And, I have to say, it’s rather awe-inspiring to look at it.

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The Power is REAL

If you’ve ever doubted the power of scaled-down engineering, allow me to dispel those doubts. I fired up those four engines in my lounge room – cautiously, I might add – and the thrust generated was enough to almost blow the curtains clean off their hooks from a good 40 feet away! Holding the plane down was a genuine struggle against its immense power. I’m pretty sure I could simulate a small tornado in here if I wanted to!

Beyond the raw power, it’s just awe-inspiring to behold. The sheer detail, the imposing presence – it truly captures the spirit of the real A380. Every curve, every engine nacelle, every bit of its massive scale is mesmerising.

For the Aviation Enthusiasts and RC Pilots: The Technical Marvel

For those of you, like me, who love to dive into the nitty-gritty of what makes such a marvel tick, here are the details that truly make this model stand out:

This isn’t just a model; it’s arguably the largest EPO (Expanded Polyolefin) model you’ll ever encounter. With a formidable wingspan of 1520mm (nearly 60 inches!) and powered by four potent 56mm ducted fans (EDFs), it’s guaranteed to turn heads at any airfield.

Despite its impressive dimensions, the designers have done a brilliant job making it surprisingly light and economical to fly, requiring just a 3000mAh 3S battery (though it can handle up to a 5000mAh for extended flights). This means less drain on your wallet and more time in the air.

And for those eager to get airborne, the good news is it arrives 95% pre-built. It includes a powerful 4 x 25A brushless EDF system and a steerable nose wheel, meaning you just need to add your own Tx/Rx (transmitter/receiver) and battery to get this giant taking to the skies.

Key Specifications:

  • Length: 1410mm (55.51in)
  • Wing span: 1520mm (59.84in)
  • Flying weight: 1800g
  • Motor: 2826 Brushless outrunner (3200KV)
  • ESC: 4 x 25A
  • Servo: 9g * 5pcs
  • Battery (Required): 3000~5000mAh 3S1P 45C~65C Lipoly Pack
  • EDF Diameter: 4 x 56mm

This A380 model is more than just a hobbyist’s dream; it’s a testament to incredible engineering, both at the full scale and in miniature. The thrill of seeing it take flight, or even just feeling the raw power of its engines, is an experience I wouldn’t trade. It truly brings the majesty of aviation right into your hands.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

Where the dynasty begins

…

Ground Zero for Greatness: Why Location is the Ultimate Character in a Book Series

If you’re going to write a book series, sometimes it will be rooted in one particular place—the place I would call home.

Dynasties need a place that is theirs, to start from nothing. And when you’re building a multi-book epic, a generational saga, or even a sprawling television-style procedural, it’s all about picking a location.

Before you plot your twists, before you name your protagonist, and long before you figure out how the story ends, you have to choose the dirt. Because in serialised fiction, geography isn’t just a backdrop; it’s the heartbeat of your entire fictional universe.

Here is why your series needs a definitive home base, and how to pick a location that can carry the weight of an entire dynasty.

1. The Power of “Home” in Serialised Fiction

Think of the most iconic series in literature and pop culture. Game of Thrones is inextricably linked to Winterfell and the stark brutality of the North. Lord of the Rings always circles back to the comforting, green hearth of the Shire. In crime fiction, Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch is Los Angeles—the asphalt, the traffic, the neon-lit grit.

When a series has a distinct home, it offers the reader a psychological anchor. No matter how chaotic the plot gets, or how many new characters are introduced in book three or four, returning to “home” provides a sense of continuity.

As a writer, establishing a home base gives you a baseline. You can’t show how much a character or a family has changed unless you show them against the backdrop of where they started.

2. Dynasties Need Dirt: Starting from Nothing

Every great dynasty—whether it’s the Corleones in The Godfather, the Roys in Succession, or a fantasy bloodline clawing its way to a throne—needs a genesis point.

To make a dynasty compelling, you have to show the climb. And to show the climb, you need a starting block that feels tactile, specific, and often, limiting.

  • The Mud and the Scaffolding: Starting from nothing means your characters are shaped by the geography of their struggle. Are they mining coal in a bleak valley? Are they scraping by in a crowded port city? The physical environment dictates their resourcefulness, their culture, and their desperation.
  • The Claim: A dynasty isn’t just a family; it’s real estate. The moment a group of characters stakes a claim on a specific piece of land—whether it’s an abandoned farm, a contested borough, or an uncharted island—the story shifts from mere survival to legacy-building.

When you pick a location, ask yourself: What does this dirt demand from the people who walk on it?

3. How to Choose the Right Location for Your Series

Picking a location isn’t about just pointing a finger at a map or making up a cool-sounding fantasy name. It’s a strategic choice that will dictate the trajectory of your entire series. Here’s how to nail it:

Give the Location Personality

Treat your setting like a main character. It should have moods, history, biases, and secrets. A coastal town isn’t just “near the water”—it’s salty, isolated, suspicious of outsiders, and at the mercy of the tides. The weather, the architecture, the local cuisine, and the regional slang should all bleed into the narrative.

Ensure Room for Expansion

A common pitfall in series writing is picking a location that is too small. If your entire story takes place in a single room or a tiny village, you’ll run out of narrative fuel by book two. Ensure your chosen location has layers: neighbourhoods, surrounding wilderness, political jurisdictions, or hidden undergrounds that you can peel back as the series progresses.

Make It Inhospitable (At Least a Little Bit)

Comfort breeds stagnation; struggle breeds dynasties. Whether it’s harsh winters, political corruption, economic depression, or literal monsters at the gates, your location should present ongoing obstacles. A dynasty is forged in the forge, after all.

4. The Location Evolves With You

One of the greatest joys of writing a series is watching the home base change over time.

In Book 1, your characters might be shivering in a leaky shack on the edge of town, dreaming of something better. By Book 5, that same shack might be replaced by a sprawling estate, or serve as the historic foundation of a massive corporate or political empire.

Because the location stays the same while the characters change, the setting becomes a measuring stick for time and ambition. Readers love nothing more than recognising a street corner, a building, or a landmark that appeared in the first book, but seeing it entirely transformed through the lens of the characters’ success (or downfall).

Final Thoughts: Plant Your Flag

If you’re staring at a blank document, paralysed by the sheer scope of the series you want to write, stop trying to plot the ending. Stop trying to introduce every character.

Instead, look for the place.

Find the town, the planet, the estate, or the street corner that feels like the epicentre of your imagination. Plant your flag there. Make it messy, make it real, and make it home. Because once you find the right location, the dynasty will build itself.

…

PI Walthenson’s second case – A case of finding the ‘Flying Dutchman’.

Known only to a few, there is a legend that a ship named the ‘Flying Dutchman’ left Nazi Germany in the last weeks of the war and set sail for America, escorted by U-boats, under a different name. Aboard was a trove of treasure and gold worth a ‘king’s ransom’.

It was said that it had been sent to a group of American Nazis to create the Fourth Reich at an appropriate time. Over the years, many expeditions off the coast had searched, but found no trace of the vessel or the treasure.

In other words, it was just a legend created to boost tourism.

…

Fast forward to 2024. Our intrepid private detective, Harry Walthenson, overhears a conversation at Grand Central Station. It was the oddness of the message that caught his attention. An investigation turned up nothing out of the ordinary, and he thinks no more about it.

Then Harry is kidnapped, interrogated, and asked questions over and over about a date and a place, why he went there, and when he could not give satisfactory answers, he was beaten half to death and left for dead on a rubbish heap. He was lucky that it was a living space for homeless men; otherwise, he would have died.

In the aftermath, he once again gives it no more thought.

…

After resolving his first case successfully, there’s no rest. Harry’s angry mother comes to his office and demands that he find out where his father has gone. She believes he has run off with a mistress, not for the first time.

Perhaps it was not the wisest decision she has made, because Harry promises to investigate, and adds that she might not like what he finds.

He soon discovered he does not like what he finds, that his father’s friends, a cabal formed at University, have two who are his mother’s current lovers, and another, a criminal blackmailing his father.

Felicity, now his partner, working on a different case, and trying to get answers, uncovers a crime family involved in guarding a disused warehouse on the docks, where she believes Harry had been taken for interrogation, and subsequently dumped nearby to die.

Why are they up to? What is so important that the empty warehouse needs guarding? Who is employing them?

Harry, following up on the death of the blackmailer, traces his death back to an enforcer employed by his grandfather. His mother’s grandfather was a pre-war industrialist who made his fortune in war munitions and shipbuilding.

He was also a member of the American Nazi party.

When Harry also discovers a logbook belonging to a so-called wartime Liberty ship the “Paul Revere” in brackets ‘Freiheitskämpfer’, hidden by his father, and written in a code that is not readily identifiable.

It is no longer a matter of a father who has run off with his mistress; it is a very frightened man in fear of his life, running from a group who will stop at nothing to get the logbook back. And when Harry discovers a family connection to the group, it becomes a race against time to decode the log and find his father before his grandfather does.

…

Coming soon: Harry Walthenson’s new adventure – A case of finding the ‘Flying Dutchman’

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – Beyond the second novel

Where the dynasty begins

…

Ground Zero for Greatness: Why Location is the Ultimate Character in a Book Series

If you’re going to write a book series, sometimes it will be rooted in one particular place—the place I would call home.

Dynasties need a place that is theirs, to start from nothing. And when you’re building a multi-book epic, a generational saga, or even a sprawling television-style procedural, it’s all about picking a location.

Before you plot your twists, before you name your protagonist, and long before you figure out how the story ends, you have to choose the dirt. Because in serialised fiction, geography isn’t just a backdrop; it’s the heartbeat of your entire fictional universe.

Here is why your series needs a definitive home base, and how to pick a location that can carry the weight of an entire dynasty.

1. The Power of “Home” in Serialised Fiction

Think of the most iconic series in literature and pop culture. Game of Thrones is inextricably linked to Winterfell and the stark brutality of the North. Lord of the Rings always circles back to the comforting, green hearth of the Shire. In crime fiction, Michael Connelly’s Harry Bosch is Los Angeles—the asphalt, the traffic, the neon-lit grit.

When a series has a distinct home, it offers the reader a psychological anchor. No matter how chaotic the plot gets, or how many new characters are introduced in book three or four, returning to “home” provides a sense of continuity.

As a writer, establishing a home base gives you a baseline. You can’t show how much a character or a family has changed unless you show them against the backdrop of where they started.

2. Dynasties Need Dirt: Starting from Nothing

Every great dynasty—whether it’s the Corleones in The Godfather, the Roys in Succession, or a fantasy bloodline clawing its way to a throne—needs a genesis point.

To make a dynasty compelling, you have to show the climb. And to show the climb, you need a starting block that feels tactile, specific, and often, limiting.

  • The Mud and the Scaffolding: Starting from nothing means your characters are shaped by the geography of their struggle. Are they mining coal in a bleak valley? Are they scraping by in a crowded port city? The physical environment dictates their resourcefulness, their culture, and their desperation.
  • The Claim: A dynasty isn’t just a family; it’s real estate. The moment a group of characters stakes a claim on a specific piece of land—whether it’s an abandoned farm, a contested borough, or an uncharted island—the story shifts from mere survival to legacy-building.

When you pick a location, ask yourself: What does this dirt demand from the people who walk on it?

3. How to Choose the Right Location for Your Series

Picking a location isn’t about just pointing a finger at a map or making up a cool-sounding fantasy name. It’s a strategic choice that will dictate the trajectory of your entire series. Here’s how to nail it:

Give the Location Personality

Treat your setting like a main character. It should have moods, history, biases, and secrets. A coastal town isn’t just “near the water”—it’s salty, isolated, suspicious of outsiders, and at the mercy of the tides. The weather, the architecture, the local cuisine, and the regional slang should all bleed into the narrative.

Ensure Room for Expansion

A common pitfall in series writing is picking a location that is too small. If your entire story takes place in a single room or a tiny village, you’ll run out of narrative fuel by book two. Ensure your chosen location has layers: neighbourhoods, surrounding wilderness, political jurisdictions, or hidden undergrounds that you can peel back as the series progresses.

Make It Inhospitable (At Least a Little Bit)

Comfort breeds stagnation; struggle breeds dynasties. Whether it’s harsh winters, political corruption, economic depression, or literal monsters at the gates, your location should present ongoing obstacles. A dynasty is forged in the forge, after all.

4. The Location Evolves With You

One of the greatest joys of writing a series is watching the home base change over time.

In Book 1, your characters might be shivering in a leaky shack on the edge of town, dreaming of something better. By Book 5, that same shack might be replaced by a sprawling estate, or serve as the historic foundation of a massive corporate or political empire.

Because the location stays the same while the characters change, the setting becomes a measuring stick for time and ambition. Readers love nothing more than recognising a street corner, a building, or a landmark that appeared in the first book, but seeing it entirely transformed through the lens of the characters’ success (or downfall).

Final Thoughts: Plant Your Flag

If you’re staring at a blank document, paralysed by the sheer scope of the series you want to write, stop trying to plot the ending. Stop trying to introduce every character.

Instead, look for the place.

Find the town, the planet, the estate, or the street corner that feels like the epicentre of your imagination. Plant your flag there. Make it messy, make it real, and make it home. Because once you find the right location, the dynasty will build itself.

…

What I learned about writing – Where do you write?

Where the Muse Strikes: Unearthing Your Most Comfortable Writing Nook

We’ve all been there. Staring at a blank screen, a half-finished manuscript, or a sudden spark of inspiration that demands to be captured. But where, oh where, do we find that perfect, almost magical, spot that unlocks our creative flow? It’s a question that sparks endless curiosity among writers, and the answers are as varied and unique as the stories we tell.

Is it the hushed reverence of a dedicated office, a sanctuary meticulously designed for productivity? Perhaps it’s a room with a breathtaking ocean view, where the rhythmic crash of waves whispers tales of distant lands. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s the allure of a dark, atmospheric basement, a place where shadows play and spooky narratives can truly come to life.

For some, inspiration might strike in the most unexpected of places. The hustle and bustle of a train station, with its constant movement and transient characters, could be a fertile ground for observation and storytelling. Even the familiar confines of work, while potentially rife with its own unique set of challenges, might surprisingly serve as a launchpad for that next great idea.

My own writing journey has seen a few different homes. My current dedicated space is a converted garage, a cozy nook lined with the comforting presence of countless books. It’s a space brimming with potential, though I must admit, it’s not always the most serene. A certain smart-aleck cat seems to have a knack for demanding attention right when a crucial plot point is about to unfold, adding an unpredictable element to my creative process.

When the feline supervisor is temporarily distracted, or when the late-night hour beckons, I often find myself drawn to the couch in the living room. There, amidst the quiet hum of the house, I can sometimes wrestle a thousand words from the depths of my imagination, the narrative flowing with a surprising ease, cat-related interruptions notwithstanding.

Then there are the times when the muse arrives disguised as a delicious meal. A cafe or restaurant can be an irresistible lure. It often starts innocently enough, with me scribbling notes on the ambiance, the food, the fascinating people around me. But before I know it, those observations morph into something more, drawing me deeper into the story and, on occasion, landing me in hot water with my patient dining companions. It seems a bit of intense introspection can sometimes be mistaken for complete disengagement from the present company!

And let’s not forget the technological marvels that have infiltrated our lives. The advent of writing programs for mobile phones is a double-edged sword. While they offer unparalleled portability, they also blur the lines between downtime and work, and frankly, sometimes I wonder if these devices have become too smart, outsmarting our own intentions with their constant connectivity and endless distractions. But hey, that’s a whole other story for another day, isn’t it?

So, where do you find your most comfortable writing place? Is it a grand study, a quiet corner of a coffee shop, or perhaps the backseat of a moving vehicle? Share your secret writing sanctuaries in the comments below – let’s inspire each other to find that perfect spot where our words can truly soar!

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 226

Day 226 – Avoiding clichés

…

Tired Tropes: Why It’s Time to Retire “Smart as a Whip,” “Light as a Feather,” and “dumb as a rock” (And What to Use Instead)

We’ve all been there. You’re in the flow of writing a scene, drafting a marketing email, or chatting with a friend, and a familiar phrase drops off your fingertips.

She was light as a feather. He was smart as a whip. That idea is dumb as a rock.

They’re comfortable. They’re automatic. And, frankly, they are dead on arrival.

In copywriting and creative writing alike, clichés are the fast-food of language: they fill a craving instantly, but they leave your audience feeling uninspired and unsatisfied. When we rely on tired idioms, we trade specific imagery for lazy shorthand.

If you want to elevate your writing, boost your SEO engagement by reducing bounce rates (readers stick around longer for original prose!), and captivate your audience, it’s time to banish these three overused similes.

Let’s break down why they fail, and explore fresh, vibrant alternatives that will make your writing pop.

Cliche #1: “Smart as a Whip”

Why It Fails

Where did this even come from? A leather strap attached to a handle doesn’t exactly scream “cognitive genius.” While etymologists debate its origins—some point to the snap of a whip representing quickness, others to a “smart” (stinging) lash—the phrase has been beaten to death. It’s a vague umbrella term that tells your reader someone is intelligent without showing how that intelligence manifests.

Fresh Alternatives

Intelligence isn’t a monolith. A person can be mathematically gifted, socially brilliant, or quick on their feet. Show your reader the flavor of their smarts:

  • For quick-wittedness: Sharp as a tack, quick-silver, nimble-minded, brilliantly agile.
  • For deep intellect: Encyclopedic, sagacious, razor-sharp, intellectually voracious.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “She was smart as a whip during the negotiation,” try:“She sliced through the corporate jargon with surgical precision, anticipating counter-arguments before they even left the room.”

Cliché #2: “Light as a Feather”

Why It Fails

Unless you are literally writing a scientific paper about avian plumage, “light as a feather” is completely devoid of sensory detail. It’s a ghost of a description. It doesn’t help the reader feel the weightlessness; it just tells them the math of the mass.

Fresh Alternatives

Weightlessness can be terrifying, graceful, or magical. Tap into the physical sensations of air, movement, and suspension to bring your descriptions to life:

  • For physical objects: Buoyant, ethereal, gossamer, weightless, vaporous, floating on a breeze.
  • For people or movements: Effortless, floating, unanchored, graceful as a drifted leaf.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “The vintage silk dress was light as a feather,” try:“The vintage silk cascaded over her skin like a second atmosphere, practically floating on the ambient air.”

Cliché #3: “Dumb as a Rock”

Why It Fails

Aside from being unoriginal, calling someone (or something) “dumb as a rock” is a blunt-force instrument. It lacks nuance, and frankly, rocks have a lot of geological history going for them—they are much more interesting than this insult implies. Relying on this phrase misses an opportunity to inject humor, vivid imagery, or specific critique into your writing.

Fresh Alternatives

If you need to describe a lack of common sense, ignorance, or a thoroughly unwise decision, you have a wealth of colorful alternatives at your disposal:

  • For foolishness: Clueless, vacant, dense as lead, hopelessly out-to-lunch, playing checkers in a chess grandmaster tournament.
  • For bad ideas: Ill-conceived, half-baked, structurally unsound, a house of cards.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “That business strategy is dumb as a rock,” try:“That business strategy was about as seaworthy as a screen-door canoe.”

How to Spot Clichés in Your Own Writing

Writing without clichés isn’t about never using a common phrase again; it’s about developing an editor’s eye for autopilot writing. The next time you edit your work, run this quick mental check:

  1. The “First Thought” Test: If a phrase or comparison pops into your head immediately, it probably popped into a million other writers’ heads, too. Pause, delete it, and force yourself to brainstorm three alternative descriptions.
  2. Appeal to the Senses: Clichés are abstract. Real writing is sensory. Does your description sound, smell, look, feel, or taste like something specific?
  3. Show, Don’t Tell: Instead of telling us someone is “smart as a whip” or a concept is “dumb as a rock,” show us the action, the consequence, or the environment that proves it.

Upgrade Your Vocabulary Today

Language is a living, breathing toolkit. When we rely on clichés like smart as a whip, light as a feather, and dumb as a rock, we dull our tools. Swap them out for specific, evocative, and surprising alternatives, and watch your writing instantly transform from generic to unforgettable.

What’s your least favorite cliché? Drop it in the comments below along with your favorite alternative!

…

“The Things we do for Love”, the story behind the story

This story has been ongoing since I was seventeen, and just to let you know, I’m 72 this year.

Yes, it’s taken a long time to get it done.

Why, you might ask.

Well, I never gave it much interest because I started writing it after a small incident when I was 17, and working as a book packer for a book distributor in Melbourne

At the end of my first year, at Christmas, the employer had a Christmas party, and that year, it was at a venue in St Kilda.

I wasn’t going to go because at that age, I was an ordinary boy who was very introverted and basically scared of his own shadow and terrified by girls.

Back then, I would cross the street to avoid them

Also, other members of the staff in the shipping department were rough and ready types who were not backwards in telling me what happened, and being naive, perhaps they knew I’d be either shocked or intrigued.

I was both adamant I wasn’t coming and then got roped in on a dare.

Damn!

So, back then, in the early 70s, people looked the other way when it came to drinking, and of course, Dutch courage always takes away the concerns, especially when normally you wouldn’t do half the stuff you wouldn’t in a million years

I made it to the end, not as drunk and stupid as I thought I might be, and St Kilda being a salacious place if you knew where to look, my new friends decided to give me a surprise.

It didn’t take long to realise these men were ‘men about town’ as they kept saying, and we went on an odyssey.  Yes, those backstreet brothels where one could, I was told, have anything they could imagine.

Let me tell you, large quantities of alcohol and imagination were a very bad mix.

So, the odyssey in ‘The things we do’ was based on that, and then the encounter with Diana. Well, let’s just say I learned a great deal about girls that night.

Firstly, not all girls are nasty and spiteful, which seemed to be the case whenever I met one. There was a way to approach, greet, talk to, and behave.

It was also true that I could have had anything I wanted, but I decided what was in my imagination could stay there.  She was amused that all I wanted was to talk, but it was my money, and I could spend it how I liked.

And like any 17-year-old naive fool, I fell in love with her and had all these foolish notions.  Months later, I went back, but she had moved on, to where no one was saying or knew.

Needless to say, I was heartbroken and had to get over that first loss, which, like any 17-year-old, was like the end of the world.

But it was the best hour I’d ever spent in my life and would remain so until I met the woman I have been married to for the last 48 years.

As Henry, he was in part based on a rebel, the son of rich parents who despised them and their wealth, and he used to regale anyone who would listen about how they had messed up his life

If only I’d come from such a background!

And yes, I was only a run away from climbing up the stairs to get on board a ship, acting as a purser.

I worked for a shipping company and they gave their junior staff members an opportunity to spend a year at sea working as a purser on a cargo ship that sailed between Melbourne, Sydney and Hobart in Australia.

One of the other junior staff members’ turn came, and I would visit him on board when he would tell me stories about life on board, the officers, the crew, and other events. These stories, which sounded incredible to someone so impressionable, were a delight to hear.

Alas, by that time, I had tired of office work and moved on to be a tradesman at the place where my father worked.

It proved to be the right move, as that is where I met my wife.  Diana had been right; love would find me when I least expected it.

…

lovecoverfinal1

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 226

Day 226 – Avoiding clichés

…

Tired Tropes: Why It’s Time to Retire “Smart as a Whip,” “Light as a Feather,” and “dumb as a rock” (And What to Use Instead)

We’ve all been there. You’re in the flow of writing a scene, drafting a marketing email, or chatting with a friend, and a familiar phrase drops off your fingertips.

She was light as a feather. He was smart as a whip. That idea is dumb as a rock.

They’re comfortable. They’re automatic. And, frankly, they are dead on arrival.

In copywriting and creative writing alike, clichés are the fast-food of language: they fill a craving instantly, but they leave your audience feeling uninspired and unsatisfied. When we rely on tired idioms, we trade specific imagery for lazy shorthand.

If you want to elevate your writing, boost your SEO engagement by reducing bounce rates (readers stick around longer for original prose!), and captivate your audience, it’s time to banish these three overused similes.

Let’s break down why they fail, and explore fresh, vibrant alternatives that will make your writing pop.

Cliche #1: “Smart as a Whip”

Why It Fails

Where did this even come from? A leather strap attached to a handle doesn’t exactly scream “cognitive genius.” While etymologists debate its origins—some point to the snap of a whip representing quickness, others to a “smart” (stinging) lash—the phrase has been beaten to death. It’s a vague umbrella term that tells your reader someone is intelligent without showing how that intelligence manifests.

Fresh Alternatives

Intelligence isn’t a monolith. A person can be mathematically gifted, socially brilliant, or quick on their feet. Show your reader the flavor of their smarts:

  • For quick-wittedness: Sharp as a tack, quick-silver, nimble-minded, brilliantly agile.
  • For deep intellect: Encyclopedic, sagacious, razor-sharp, intellectually voracious.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “She was smart as a whip during the negotiation,” try:“She sliced through the corporate jargon with surgical precision, anticipating counter-arguments before they even left the room.”

Cliché #2: “Light as a Feather”

Why It Fails

Unless you are literally writing a scientific paper about avian plumage, “light as a feather” is completely devoid of sensory detail. It’s a ghost of a description. It doesn’t help the reader feel the weightlessness; it just tells them the math of the mass.

Fresh Alternatives

Weightlessness can be terrifying, graceful, or magical. Tap into the physical sensations of air, movement, and suspension to bring your descriptions to life:

  • For physical objects: Buoyant, ethereal, gossamer, weightless, vaporous, floating on a breeze.
  • For people or movements: Effortless, floating, unanchored, graceful as a drifted leaf.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “The vintage silk dress was light as a feather,” try:“The vintage silk cascaded over her skin like a second atmosphere, practically floating on the ambient air.”

Cliché #3: “Dumb as a Rock”

Why It Fails

Aside from being unoriginal, calling someone (or something) “dumb as a rock” is a blunt-force instrument. It lacks nuance, and frankly, rocks have a lot of geological history going for them—they are much more interesting than this insult implies. Relying on this phrase misses an opportunity to inject humor, vivid imagery, or specific critique into your writing.

Fresh Alternatives

If you need to describe a lack of common sense, ignorance, or a thoroughly unwise decision, you have a wealth of colorful alternatives at your disposal:

  • For foolishness: Clueless, vacant, dense as lead, hopelessly out-to-lunch, playing checkers in a chess grandmaster tournament.
  • For bad ideas: Ill-conceived, half-baked, structurally unsound, a house of cards.
  • In a sentence: Instead of “That business strategy is dumb as a rock,” try:“That business strategy was about as seaworthy as a screen-door canoe.”

How to Spot Clichés in Your Own Writing

Writing without clichés isn’t about never using a common phrase again; it’s about developing an editor’s eye for autopilot writing. The next time you edit your work, run this quick mental check:

  1. The “First Thought” Test: If a phrase or comparison pops into your head immediately, it probably popped into a million other writers’ heads, too. Pause, delete it, and force yourself to brainstorm three alternative descriptions.
  2. Appeal to the Senses: Clichés are abstract. Real writing is sensory. Does your description sound, smell, look, feel, or taste like something specific?
  3. Show, Don’t Tell: Instead of telling us someone is “smart as a whip” or a concept is “dumb as a rock,” show us the action, the consequence, or the environment that proves it.

Upgrade Your Vocabulary Today

Language is a living, breathing toolkit. When we rely on clichés like smart as a whip, light as a feather, and dumb as a rock, we dull our tools. Swap them out for specific, evocative, and surprising alternatives, and watch your writing instantly transform from generic to unforgettable.

What’s your least favorite cliché? Drop it in the comments below along with your favorite alternative!

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365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 225

Day 225 –  The fear you feel when you write

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The Fear You Feel When You Write, It’s Normal: Embracing the Wisdom of Marguerite Duras

Every writer knows the moment.

The cursor blinks relentlessly on a blank, stark-white screen. The room is quiet, perhaps too quiet. Your chest tightens, a familiar knot twists in your stomach, and a voice whispers: This is terrible. Who do you think you are? You have nothing to say.

If you have ever felt this paralysing wave of anxiety before putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), take a deep breath. You are not failing as a writer; you are simply doing the work.

As the legendary French novelist and filmmaker Marguerite Duras famously observed, the fear you feel when you write is not a sign to stop. It is normal.

Let’s unpack this profound truth and explore why fear is actually the secret companion of every great writer.

Who Was Marguerite Duras and Why Did She Understand Writing’s Terror?

Marguerite Duras was a literary force of nature. Best known for her autobiographical novel The Lover (which won the prestigious Prix Goncourt), Duras wrote with a raw, uncompromising intensity that cut straight to the human soul. She didn’t write polite stories; she wrote about obsession, desire, memory, and the dark corners of the human psyche.

Because she mined such deep, vulnerable territory, Duras understood the cost of creation. She knew that to write authentically, one must court vulnerability. And vulnerability is terrifying.

Duras famously spoke about the solitude and the terror of the writing life. She suggested that writing is not a gentle hobby or a neat profession; it is an expedition into the unknown. When you sit down to write, you are venturing into a territory that does not yet exist, dragging ideas out of the ether and forcing them into reality. Of course it’s scary.

Why Does Writing Actually Scare Us?

If we want to overcome writing anxiety, we first have to understand its roots. Why does a harmless activity like arranging words on a page trigger a fight-or-flight response?

1. The Gap Between Taste and Talent

As Ira Glass famously noted, beginners (and even seasoned pros) suffer from a cruel paradox: our taste is refined enough to know when something isn’t working, but our execution often falls short of our vision. That gap—between the masterpiece in your head and the messy draft on your screen—is where fear lives.

2. The Fear of Exposure

Writing is an act of self-revelation. Even in fiction or copywriting, your worldview, your obsessions, and your fears bleed onto the page. To share your writing with the world is to stand naked in public. What if they judge you? What if they misunderstand you? What if they simply don’t care?

3. Confronting the Unknown

Unlike math or accounting, writing doesn’t have a definitive formula. When you start a piece, you rarely know exactly where it will end. You are stepping into a fog, trusting that the path will appear as you walk it. The human brain hates uncertainty, and it interprets that blank page as a survival threat.

How to Make Friends with Your Writing Fear

If fear is a normal, permanent resident of the writer’s house, how do we coexist with it? How do we write through the terror instead of running away from it?

1. Stop Waiting to Feel Confident

Many aspiring writers make the fatal mistake of waiting for the fear to go away before they start writing. They wait for inspiration, for the “right mood,” or for unshakeable confidence.

It never comes.

Professional writers don’t feel less fear than amateurs; they simply’ve learned to act in spite of it. As Duras understood, the fear is part of the process. Expect it. Greet it when you sit down at your desk: Ah, hello anxiety, I see you’re here. Let’s write anyway.

2. Lower the Stakes (Lower the Bar)

Perfectionism is fear in a fancy tuxedo. We get terrified because we put immense pressure on every single sentence to be brilliant.

Give yourself permission to write badly. As legendary humorist James Thurber put it: “Don’t get it right, get it written.” Your first draft is merely you telling the story to yourself. No one else has to see the mess.

3. Lean Into the Discomfort

If you feel a little sick to your stomach or nervous about a passage you are writing, pay attention. That discomfort is often a compass pointing directly toward truth. If a sentence makes you squirm, it usually means you’re touching on something real, raw, and powerful. Lean into it.

The Ultimate Takeaway

Writing is an act of courage. Every time you face the blank page and refuse to look away, you are engaging in a brave act of creation.

The next time that familiar knot forms in your stomach, remember the words and the spirit of Marguerite Duras. Remind yourself that the fear doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong; it means you’re doing it right. It means you care. It means you are treading on sacred, uncharted ground.

So, feel the fear. Acknowledge it. And then, open your document and type that first sentence anyway.

Are you struggling with writer’s block or creative fear? How do you push past the blank page anxiety? Let’s discuss in the comments below!

…

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 225

Day 225 –  The fear you feel when you write

…

The Fear You Feel When You Write, It’s Normal: Embracing the Wisdom of Marguerite Duras

Every writer knows the moment.

The cursor blinks relentlessly on a blank, stark-white screen. The room is quiet, perhaps too quiet. Your chest tightens, a familiar knot twists in your stomach, and a voice whispers: This is terrible. Who do you think you are? You have nothing to say.

If you have ever felt this paralysing wave of anxiety before putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), take a deep breath. You are not failing as a writer; you are simply doing the work.

As the legendary French novelist and filmmaker Marguerite Duras famously observed, the fear you feel when you write is not a sign to stop. It is normal.

Let’s unpack this profound truth and explore why fear is actually the secret companion of every great writer.

Who Was Marguerite Duras and Why Did She Understand Writing’s Terror?

Marguerite Duras was a literary force of nature. Best known for her autobiographical novel The Lover (which won the prestigious Prix Goncourt), Duras wrote with a raw, uncompromising intensity that cut straight to the human soul. She didn’t write polite stories; she wrote about obsession, desire, memory, and the dark corners of the human psyche.

Because she mined such deep, vulnerable territory, Duras understood the cost of creation. She knew that to write authentically, one must court vulnerability. And vulnerability is terrifying.

Duras famously spoke about the solitude and the terror of the writing life. She suggested that writing is not a gentle hobby or a neat profession; it is an expedition into the unknown. When you sit down to write, you are venturing into a territory that does not yet exist, dragging ideas out of the ether and forcing them into reality. Of course it’s scary.

Why Does Writing Actually Scare Us?

If we want to overcome writing anxiety, we first have to understand its roots. Why does a harmless activity like arranging words on a page trigger a fight-or-flight response?

1. The Gap Between Taste and Talent

As Ira Glass famously noted, beginners (and even seasoned pros) suffer from a cruel paradox: our taste is refined enough to know when something isn’t working, but our execution often falls short of our vision. That gap—between the masterpiece in your head and the messy draft on your screen—is where fear lives.

2. The Fear of Exposure

Writing is an act of self-revelation. Even in fiction or copywriting, your worldview, your obsessions, and your fears bleed onto the page. To share your writing with the world is to stand naked in public. What if they judge you? What if they misunderstand you? What if they simply don’t care?

3. Confronting the Unknown

Unlike math or accounting, writing doesn’t have a definitive formula. When you start a piece, you rarely know exactly where it will end. You are stepping into a fog, trusting that the path will appear as you walk it. The human brain hates uncertainty, and it interprets that blank page as a survival threat.

How to Make Friends with Your Writing Fear

If fear is a normal, permanent resident of the writer’s house, how do we coexist with it? How do we write through the terror instead of running away from it?

1. Stop Waiting to Feel Confident

Many aspiring writers make the fatal mistake of waiting for the fear to go away before they start writing. They wait for inspiration, for the “right mood,” or for unshakeable confidence.

It never comes.

Professional writers don’t feel less fear than amateurs; they simply’ve learned to act in spite of it. As Duras understood, the fear is part of the process. Expect it. Greet it when you sit down at your desk: Ah, hello anxiety, I see you’re here. Let’s write anyway.

2. Lower the Stakes (Lower the Bar)

Perfectionism is fear in a fancy tuxedo. We get terrified because we put immense pressure on every single sentence to be brilliant.

Give yourself permission to write badly. As legendary humorist James Thurber put it: “Don’t get it right, get it written.” Your first draft is merely you telling the story to yourself. No one else has to see the mess.

3. Lean Into the Discomfort

If you feel a little sick to your stomach or nervous about a passage you are writing, pay attention. That discomfort is often a compass pointing directly toward truth. If a sentence makes you squirm, it usually means you’re touching on something real, raw, and powerful. Lean into it.

The Ultimate Takeaway

Writing is an act of courage. Every time you face the blank page and refuse to look away, you are engaging in a brave act of creation.

The next time that familiar knot forms in your stomach, remember the words and the spirit of Marguerite Duras. Remind yourself that the fear doesn’t mean you’re doing it wrong; it means you’re doing it right. It means you care. It means you are treading on sacred, uncharted ground.

So, feel the fear. Acknowledge it. And then, open your document and type that first sentence anyway.

Are you struggling with writer’s block or creative fear? How do you push past the blank page anxiety? Let’s discuss in the comments below!

…