Humor

How to Take Your Creative Writing to the Lowest Standard Ever

I cling to cliches when words fail me

I used to be a shrinking violet; now I’m a basket case in a bed of rambling roses.

Writer’s block is comparable to being up the creek without a paddle.

Clutching at straws when you’ve got no oars is a fate worse than death.

Like a fish out of water, a frog in my throat, I flounder and croak; try to catch my breath.

My thesaurus speeds past — a shot across the bows; a sight for sore eyes as I cry and wail. This is beyond the pale.

Only a stone’s throw away but with short arms and no paddle it’s a slam dunk I’ll never retrieve it.

The current’s too strong — I can’t swim upstream.

I pray it’ll be caught between a rock and a hard place — a chance to recover it later.

Back on dry land, I remind myself I’m in it for the long haul.

No use bawling over spilled milk.

(Assonance won’t work if I’m crying over the damn milk. I know it’s a long shot, but at least I’m trying. Very.)

Want me to make a long story short?

Bags all packed and ready to go?

Well, I’ll string you along and finish when I’m good and ready. You can bank on it.

I’m feeling bloody-minded, stuck for ideas.

Remembering that an idle mind is the devil’s playground, I’d better not run out of steam.

When I missed the boat, I didn’t exactly hit the ground running.

This may be the land of milk and honey but I won’t mind my own beeswax nor wait until the cows come home.

I need Promethean sustenance. Food for thought.

I can’t even eat my words nor get a word in edge-wise — I’m running on empty.

Drained, depleted, exhausted, spent, sapped, weary, knackered.

“A mind is a terrible thing to waste.” — Infamous Cliches

Well, I’m wasted.

Thrilling to be famous for fifteen minutes but I’d be happy as a lark if you just give me three.

Please don’t hang me out to dry — I’m only metaphorically wet.

A damp squibbler.

Thanks for the inspiration from Marilyn Flower:

And the extra booster from Marla Bishop: