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How Not To Use Imagery


Nanaea

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Got fwd this from a friend who also writes fanfic:

How Not to Use Imagery

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that has had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.

She caught his eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre.

Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a play.

The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long that it had rusted shut.

The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of Family Fortunes.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter".

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no-one had ever seen before.

The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP.

The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.

The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.

It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with their power tools.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.

The dandelion swayed in the breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was room temperature British beef.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to a wall.

Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

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Guest Melody Fate
McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag filled with vegetable soup.

I actually like this. It's a nasty little visual. And, having seen someone jump off a building, it works. It grabs you and smacks you around a bit.

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Guest Evil_Labs

Reminds me of I think an old Dragon Magazine, talking about stupid deaths of characters. Among one character killed by an enraged party with a wand of ressurection 7 times, and a party killed by the treasure after the adventure was over, the best one was a full plater armor halfling warrior.

This halfling insisted on shouting insults at a hill giant bathing in a waterfall. The party did not consider this a good idea, and cleared out. When the halfling asked if he could be raised afterwards by a priest, the response was that his character basically looked like a squashed can of tomato soup.

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I actually like this. It's a nasty little visual. And, having seen someone jump off a building, it works. It grabs you and smacks you around a bit.

Yeah, I actually thought that one was good as well, a little gross, but good.

I like this one too: Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long that it had rusted shut.

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Guest lightgoddess
It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to a wall.

I actually like the imagery of this one... and the implied stupidity. blink.giflaugh.gif

The vegetable soup one was also excellent, I though. But, I like graphic descriptions. ph34r.gif

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The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of Family Fortunes.

Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

laugh.gif Most of those were abysmal, but I'm rather fond of these two. When I read them, they read as extremely dry humour. Especially the second. I swear I've heard something like that watching Monty Python.

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Guest Jackie_Boi

Reading these at 6:30 in the morning and trying not to laugh was definitely hard to do. I cover my mouth as best as I could, but, a couple snorts escaped, but none loud enough to wake the house, thank god.

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