Day 114 – Cliches

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Beyond the Cliché: How to Refresh Your Writing and Ditch the Tired Tropes

We’ve all been there. You’re deep into a draft, the ideas are flowing, and suddenly, you hit a wall. You need a phrase to describe a messy situation, a strong promise, or an aggressive reaction. Your brain reaches into its mental filing cabinet and pulls out the usual suspects: “can of worms,” “mark my words,” and “feeding frenzy.”

They’re comfortable. They’re recognisable. But are they good writing?

Cliches aren’t inherently evil; they are shorthand. They exist because they were originally clever, punchy, and effective. The problem is that they’ve been used so often that they’ve lost their impact. They are the “white noise” of the literary world. When a reader sees a cliché, their brain glosses over it because they’ve already encountered it a thousand times.

If you want your writing to stand out, you have to be willing to do the extra work of finding a fresher way to say what you mean. Let’s break down three common cliches and look at how to replace them with something that actually bites.

1. The “Can of Worms”

The cliche: “Opening this investigation will just open a whole can of worms.” The problem: It’s become so cartoonish that it evokes a literal fishing trip rather than a complex bureaucratic nightmare.

The Strategy: Focus on the consequence of the action. What kind of trouble are we talking about?

• Try these instead:
  • “Opening this investigation will trigger a cascade of unforeseen fallout.”
  • “This will unearth a hornet’s nest of complications.”
  • “If we pull this thread, the entire tapestry of our agreement starts to unravel.”
  • “This is a Pandora’s box we aren’t prepared to manage.”

2. “Mark My Words”

The cliche: “Mark my words, this company will be bankrupt within a year.” The problem: It sounds like the dialogue from a mid-century detective movie. It carries a sense of performative drama that often rings hollow.

The Strategy: Don’t demand that the reader “mark” your words—simply state your conviction with enough strength that they have no choice but to believe you.

• Try these instead:
  • “I’d bet my reputation that this company will be bankrupt within a year.”
  • “History suggests that this company is headed for bankruptcy.”
  • “Write it down: this company is on a collision course with bankruptcy.”
  • “Make no mistake: this company is folding.”

3. “Feeding Frenzy”

The cliche: “The press went into a feeding frenzy over the scandal.” The problem: It dehumanises the subjects and relies on a biological metaphor that has been used until it’s transparent.

The Strategy: Describe the action of the group. Are they frantic? Are they ruthless? Are they opportunistic?

• Try these instead:
  • “The press swarmed the scandal with predatory zeal.”
  • “The scandal triggered a vicious, rapid-fire cycle of speculation.”
  • “Once the news broke, the media circled like vultures.”
  • “The scandal sparked a competitive scramble for every shred of information.”

How to Stamp Out Cliches in Your Own Work

You don’t have to get rid of every single cliché on your first draft. That’s what editing is for. Here is a simple workflow to sharpen your prose:

1. Read Aloud: When you read your draft, cliches stand out like sore thumbs. Your tongue will stumble or your brain will feel a “ping” of familiarity.
2. Ask “What do I actually mean?”: If you want to say something is a “can of worms,” ask yourself: What is the specific danger? Is it chaos? Is it legal liability? Is it a mountain of paperwork? Be specific.
3. Use the Thesaurus as a Guide, Not a Crutch: Look up the core words of your cliché, but don’t just pick a synonym. Use the thesaurus to trigger a new way of visualising the concept.
4. Embrace the “Plain Language” Rule: Sometimes, the best alternative to a cliche is simply stating the truth plainly. Instead of “a feeding frenzy,” just say “relentless media scrutiny.” Plain, direct language is often more powerful than any metaphor.

The Bottom Line: Great writing isn’t about using the biggest words or the most complex metaphors; it’s about choosing language that feels earned. By ditching the tired tropes, you show your readers that you value their time—and that you have an original voice worth listening to.

Day 114 – Cliches

…

Beyond the Cliché: How to Refresh Your Writing and Ditch the Tired Tropes

We’ve all been there. You’re deep into a draft, the ideas are flowing, and suddenly, you hit a wall. You need a phrase to describe a messy situation, a strong promise, or an aggressive reaction. Your brain reaches into its mental filing cabinet and pulls out the usual suspects: “can of worms,” “mark my words,” and “feeding frenzy.”

They’re comfortable. They’re recognisable. But are they good writing?

Cliches aren’t inherently evil; they are shorthand. They exist because they were originally clever, punchy, and effective. The problem is that they’ve been used so often that they’ve lost their impact. They are the “white noise” of the literary world. When a reader sees a cliché, their brain glosses over it because they’ve already encountered it a thousand times.

If you want your writing to stand out, you have to be willing to do the extra work of finding a fresher way to say what you mean. Let’s break down three common cliches and look at how to replace them with something that actually bites.

1. The “Can of Worms”

The cliche: “Opening this investigation will just open a whole can of worms.” The problem: It’s become so cartoonish that it evokes a literal fishing trip rather than a complex bureaucratic nightmare.

The Strategy: Focus on the consequence of the action. What kind of trouble are we talking about?

• Try these instead:
  • “Opening this investigation will trigger a cascade of unforeseen fallout.”
  • “This will unearth a hornet’s nest of complications.”
  • “If we pull this thread, the entire tapestry of our agreement starts to unravel.”
  • “This is a Pandora’s box we aren’t prepared to manage.”

2. “Mark My Words”

The cliche: “Mark my words, this company will be bankrupt within a year.” The problem: It sounds like the dialogue from a mid-century detective movie. It carries a sense of performative drama that often rings hollow.

The Strategy: Don’t demand that the reader “mark” your words—simply state your conviction with enough strength that they have no choice but to believe you.

• Try these instead:
  • “I’d bet my reputation that this company will be bankrupt within a year.”
  • “History suggests that this company is headed for bankruptcy.”
  • “Write it down: this company is on a collision course with bankruptcy.”
  • “Make no mistake: this company is folding.”

3. “Feeding Frenzy”

The cliche: “The press went into a feeding frenzy over the scandal.” The problem: It dehumanises the subjects and relies on a biological metaphor that has been used until it’s transparent.

The Strategy: Describe the action of the group. Are they frantic? Are they ruthless? Are they opportunistic?

• Try these instead:
  • “The press swarmed the scandal with predatory zeal.”
  • “The scandal triggered a vicious, rapid-fire cycle of speculation.”
  • “Once the news broke, the media circled like vultures.”
  • “The scandal sparked a competitive scramble for every shred of information.”

How to Stamp Out Cliches in Your Own Work

You don’t have to get rid of every single cliché on your first draft. That’s what editing is for. Here is a simple workflow to sharpen your prose:

1. Read Aloud: When you read your draft, cliches stand out like sore thumbs. Your tongue will stumble or your brain will feel a “ping” of familiarity.
2. Ask “What do I actually mean?”: If you want to say something is a “can of worms,” ask yourself: What is the specific danger? Is it chaos? Is it legal liability? Is it a mountain of paperwork? Be specific.
3. Use the Thesaurus as a Guide, Not a Crutch: Look up the core words of your cliché, but don’t just pick a synonym. Use the thesaurus to trigger a new way of visualising the concept.
4. Embrace the “Plain Language” Rule: Sometimes, the best alternative to a cliche is simply stating the truth plainly. Instead of “a feeding frenzy,” just say “relentless media scrutiny.” Plain, direct language is often more powerful than any metaphor.

The Bottom Line: Great writing isn’t about using the biggest words or the most complex metaphors; it’s about choosing language that feels earned. By ditching the tired tropes, you show your readers that you value their time—and that you have an original voice worth listening to.

Day 113 – Writing behind closed doors – alone

…

The Solitary Craft: The Pros and Cons of Writing Behind a Closed Door

Every writer has their own ritual. Some prefer the hum of a bustling coffee shop, while others find their flow in the company of a critique group. But for many, the “true” work happens in the sanctuary of isolation—behind a closed door, away from the noise, the glare of the world, and the distractions of daily life.

Writing in isolation is a double-edged sword. It is both a monastic devotion and a potential trap. If you’ve ever wondered whether you should be retreating to your home office for days on end, here’s a look at the trade-offs of the solitary craft.

The Pros: The Sanctity of the Flow State

For many authors, isolation isn’t just a preference; it’s a necessity for deep work. When you shut the door, you are creating a workspace where you are the sole arbiter of your world-building.

1. Uninterrupted Deep Work (The “Flow”) It takes approximately 20 minutes to re-enter a deep state of concentration after an interruption. By closing your door, you minimise the “ping” of notifications and the “hey, do you have a second?” that kill momentum. Isolation allows you to sink into the flow state where time disappears, and the prose begins to sing.

2. Psychological Safety Writing often requires vulnerability. When you are alone, you don’t face the subconscious filter of “what will people think?” You are free to write the messy, embarrassing, or radical first draft without an audience. This isolation acts as an incubator for risk-taking and authentic expression.

3. Total Control Over Environment: Your workspace is your cockpit. You control the lighting, the silence (or the specific playlist), and the temperature. This sensory control helps signal to your brain that it is time to work, turning your “closed door” into a psychological trigger for productivity.

The Cons: The Perils of the Echo Chamber

While the hermit life can produce great work, it also comes with significant risks. Writing in a vacuum can lead to stagnation, both in your craft and your mental well-being.

1. The “Echo Chamber” Effect When you write in total isolation, you lose the invaluable feedback loop. You may unknowingly fall into repetitive tropes, develop plot holes that you are too close to see, or misuse language in ways that are obvious to an outsider but invisible to you. Without the “fresh eyes” of a peer or editor, you run the risk of becoming your own worst champion—or your own worst critic.

2. The Erosion of Perspective: Writers are observers of humanity. To write realistic characters, you need to hear how people speak, observe their body language, and understand the tensions of social dynamics. If you spend too much time behind a closed door, your world may start to feel “airless.” Your dialogue can become wooden, and your understanding of cultural shifts may lag.

3. The Psychological Toll Writing is a lonely profession by default. By choosing to physically isolate yourself for long stretches, you risk burnout and the “writer’s blues.” Without the grounding influence of the outside world, the internal struggles of the writing process—self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and creative blocks—can become mountainous and overwhelming.

Finding the Balance: The “Hybrid” Approach

The goal isn’t to choose between total isolation and total social immersion. The most successful writers often use a hybrid model:

• The Sprint: Use the closed door for the “heavy lifting”—the drafting phase, where you need pure, uninterrupted focus.
• The Inhale: Once the draft is down, open the door. Seek out writers’ groups, beta readers, or even just a busy cafe to recalibrate your senses.
• The Observation: Use your time outside the room to “fill the well.” Listen to conversations in line at the grocery store, read books by different authors, and engage with the world so you have something to write about when you return to your desk.

The Verdict

Writing behind a closed door is a powerful tool, but it is a tool meant to be used in cycles. Use your isolation to create, but remember to occasionally unlock the door. Your best work often happens at the intersection of deep, focused thought and the messy, human world you are writing for.

How do you handle your writing environment? Do you crave the isolation, or do you find you need the buzz of the world to keep your words fresh? Let me know in the comments.

Day 113 – Writing behind closed doors – alone

…

The Solitary Craft: The Pros and Cons of Writing Behind a Closed Door

Every writer has their own ritual. Some prefer the hum of a bustling coffee shop, while others find their flow in the company of a critique group. But for many, the “true” work happens in the sanctuary of isolation—behind a closed door, away from the noise, the glare of the world, and the distractions of daily life.

Writing in isolation is a double-edged sword. It is both a monastic devotion and a potential trap. If you’ve ever wondered whether you should be retreating to your home office for days on end, here’s a look at the trade-offs of the solitary craft.

The Pros: The Sanctity of the Flow State

For many authors, isolation isn’t just a preference; it’s a necessity for deep work. When you shut the door, you are creating a workspace where you are the sole arbiter of your world-building.

1. Uninterrupted Deep Work (The “Flow”) It takes approximately 20 minutes to re-enter a deep state of concentration after an interruption. By closing your door, you minimise the “ping” of notifications and the “hey, do you have a second?” that kill momentum. Isolation allows you to sink into the flow state where time disappears, and the prose begins to sing.

2. Psychological Safety Writing often requires vulnerability. When you are alone, you don’t face the subconscious filter of “what will people think?” You are free to write the messy, embarrassing, or radical first draft without an audience. This isolation acts as an incubator for risk-taking and authentic expression.

3. Total Control Over Environment: Your workspace is your cockpit. You control the lighting, the silence (or the specific playlist), and the temperature. This sensory control helps signal to your brain that it is time to work, turning your “closed door” into a psychological trigger for productivity.

The Cons: The Perils of the Echo Chamber

While the hermit life can produce great work, it also comes with significant risks. Writing in a vacuum can lead to stagnation, both in your craft and your mental well-being.

1. The “Echo Chamber” Effect When you write in total isolation, you lose the invaluable feedback loop. You may unknowingly fall into repetitive tropes, develop plot holes that you are too close to see, or misuse language in ways that are obvious to an outsider but invisible to you. Without the “fresh eyes” of a peer or editor, you run the risk of becoming your own worst champion—or your own worst critic.

2. The Erosion of Perspective: Writers are observers of humanity. To write realistic characters, you need to hear how people speak, observe their body language, and understand the tensions of social dynamics. If you spend too much time behind a closed door, your world may start to feel “airless.” Your dialogue can become wooden, and your understanding of cultural shifts may lag.

3. The Psychological Toll Writing is a lonely profession by default. By choosing to physically isolate yourself for long stretches, you risk burnout and the “writer’s blues.” Without the grounding influence of the outside world, the internal struggles of the writing process—self-doubt, imposter syndrome, and creative blocks—can become mountainous and overwhelming.

Finding the Balance: The “Hybrid” Approach

The goal isn’t to choose between total isolation and total social immersion. The most successful writers often use a hybrid model:

• The Sprint: Use the closed door for the “heavy lifting”—the drafting phase, where you need pure, uninterrupted focus.
• The Inhale: Once the draft is down, open the door. Seek out writers’ groups, beta readers, or even just a busy cafe to recalibrate your senses.
• The Observation: Use your time outside the room to “fill the well.” Listen to conversations in line at the grocery store, read books by different authors, and engage with the world so you have something to write about when you return to your desk.

The Verdict

Writing behind a closed door is a powerful tool, but it is a tool meant to be used in cycles. Use your isolation to create, but remember to occasionally unlock the door. Your best work often happens at the intersection of deep, focused thought and the messy, human world you are writing for.

How do you handle your writing environment? Do you crave the isolation, or do you find you need the buzz of the world to keep your words fresh? Let me know in the comments.