Cliché? Touché.
Thursday’s Children is a weekly blog hop,
founded by Rhiann Wynn-Nolet & Kristen Perez,
where writers share their inspirations.
Inspired by ~ Idioms.
In the movie War Games, the hacker David Lightman (Matthew Broderick) is in the hot seat after an autonomous supercomputer misinterprets his request to play an online game–and begins a real global thermonuclear war. The viewer is on pins and needles until Lightman levels the playing field, so our gooses aren’t cooked on a grand scale.
David’s backside isn’t really on fire. Sharp objects poke no one, no hoeing is involved, and we aren’t planning a poultry dinner.
But you still understand what I’m talking about, because idioms are as old as dirt, and as common as houseflies–there are over 25K of them in the English language. Those catchy, little phrases pop out of our mouths with surprising ease, ringing in our ears like our mother’s voices from decades gone by.
Idiom . . . a combination of words that has a figurative meaning, due to common usage. An idiom’s figurative meaning is separate from the literal meaning or definition of the words of which it is made. (Wikipedia)
These snippets are so well-ingrained in our brains that they often find their way into our work. But they aren’t original vehicles. Why bump along in a Little Tykes Cozy Coupe when you can customize your own sleek ride?
(cracks knuckles) Let’s do better.
The Proposal: Pick an idiom, any idiom, (flourishes a handful of choices, here and here ). I challenge you to rephrase any idiom in your own words, or make up an entirely new one–and put it in the comments. If you’re reading the comments, reply with what you think the original might have been. If your guess is already there, let ‘er ride.
Can you figure out which idiom I rewrote for the following excerpt from my WIP, Lumen?
Celeste huffed into her hands, and surveyed the horizon through the rising clouds of her breath. To the left, the manmade glow of the imperial nation, Edo, pushed back against the onset of twilight. To the right, the WilderForest blurred into an amber maze of branches and shadow. She chewed her lip and eyed the crowd of trees, seeking the ancient oak. At this moment, finding it had all the pitfalls of sorting a diamond from a pile of broken glass.
“Where are you?” she cried.
The only answer was the low moan of tree limbs, and the whoosh of a restless breeze.
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