Wendigisms

I’ve decided to keep track of my new favorite author’s metaphors/similes. The man is Chuck Wendig and I’m going to call these Wendigisms. The man is a prodigy when it comes to metaphor and creative use of the English language, the Maestro of Metaphor. I’ll be mining his metaphorical gold nuggets and keeping a list of my favorites. I’ll be mainlining those gold veins like a heroin junkie. That’s right, I’m addicted. I’m sure Chuck, er, the Maestro, could have created a better metaphor there; I am merely the keeper of the archive. He is a writer of many forms, and he pontificates over at Terribleminds. What … are you still here? I’ll wait…

This is by no means a complete list, in fact it barely scratches the mildewed linoleum surface, but I intend to keep adding more. These are posted here with his permission. I welcome your suggestions.

Here they are in no particular order:

• Built like a sagging brick wall, head like a melting lump of Play-Dough 
• art-o-leptic fits of imagination 
• squeeze out word-babies 
• shoved deep into their colonic grotto* 
• slower than a legless caterpillar rolling up a rocky knoll 
• A gift basket of hookers 
• wriggling free from a uterus made from fractal swirls 
• count each pube on your story’s scrotum 
• Spit ‘em out like broken teeth 
• feel like he’s wearing a tuxedo made of bumblebees 
• A hot fresh bucket of words 
• we will now refer to lava as “earthjaculate” 
• kicked in the junk drawer 
• superheroically buoyant 
• epic diaper-breach 
• fleshy 3-D meatbags 
• A burning nugget of possibility tumbling out of the bleak black nowhere 
• high on your own stink, huffing your word-fumes 
• a swirling hate vortex living in the space between your heart and your gut 
• Fatigue nibbles at your marrow like an army of tiny chipmunks 
• ejaculate your DNA into every cell of that story 
• suicide shoes 
• sky the color of a bruised cheek 
• pinnacle of paroxysmic pleasure 
• You need to master Manuscript Lovemaking 7 
• Progress tastes like bacon 
• Embrace the rewrite. From behind. 
• It’s time to blast my six-shooters at the words and make those pesky f***ers dance 
• You pull a mental hammy and s**t your brain-diapers 
• work that was as pleasant as a dildo violation 
• As if writing is a job on par with “unicorn tamer” 
• Other days it feels like you're birthing a lawn chair from your hindquarters 
• create quantum entanglement between your butt and your chair so that you write 
• right in the catcher's mitt known as your "crotch." 
• a thimble full of mouse turds 
• align their chakras and birth their story on a beam of light 
• bleeding imagination juice on the page
• *poop noise*