Welcome to Adjective Abusers Anonymous

Hi.  I’m Kim.

Huh.  Maybe this isn’t as anonymous as I was led to believe?

Anyway, I’m an adjective abuser.  Hell, I’m a wife-beater-wearing, descriptive word over-user.  I can be a downright, hit-you-in-the-face-with-a-frying pan, shove it down your throat ’til you gag, just goes on and on so you wish I would die of old age already, sort of adjective rapist.

If wordiness were illegal, I’d probably be in a freezing cold, piss-smelling, rat-infested, black-hole of a jail cell right this minute.

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

Damn it, I have a big, fat, hairy problem.

These are my bunnies.  No one can steal them!

I have a big, fat, hairy problem and, no, it isn’t hipster zombie bunnies.

So, what is the second step?

I’m going to build a pyre in my backyard and burn index cards full of corpulent adjectives in effigy.  I’ll watch the ash rise and float down like blackened butterfly wings and I’ll dance naked with my new freedom from padded prose.

Third step:  Do a better job self-editing, dumbass.

Fourth step:  I’m not sure.  Maybe stop hanging out at bars Thesaurus.com?

Fifth step: How many damn steps are in this program, anyway?  I’m cured already!  I feel ready to leap off a proverbial writing cliff and dive into the pool of conciciosity!

Sixth step:  Look up conciciosity at Dictionary.com.  DO NOT click over to Thesaurus.com

Seventh step:  Write the words “One Phenomenal Word is Better than Five Mediocre Words,” on a sticky note and plaster it to your writing desk right next to the note that says “Library & Laundry.”

Eighth Step:  Go put the laundry in the dryer using as few words as possible.  One good expletive is worth five shitty ones.

Ninth Step: Come on with the steps already!  This doesn’t seem to be working at all.

Tenth Step: Go to a kids’ online study site and practice basic English skills from the seventh grade level.  Do Mad Libs to re-familiarize yourself with the parts of a sentence.  Preposition?  What the hell is a preposition?

Eleventh Step:  Give up.  You suck.  Go roast marshmallows on the evanescent, crimson embers of your adjective crematorium.  Yum.  Eating your words never tasted so good.

“Your opening shows great promise, and yet flashy
purple patches; as when describing
a sacred grove, or the altar of Diana,
or a stream meandering through fields,
or the river Rhine, or a rainbow;
but this was not the place for them. If you can realistically render
a cypress tree, would you include one when commissioned to paint
a sailor in the midst of a shipwreck?”

-Quintus Horatius Flaccus

Twelfth step: I might paint a cypress tree, Horace.  I just might.


Procrastination: Writing Excuses 101

1. My dog ate my computer.

Oh, wait.  I don’t have a dog.  But if I did, I’d want this one.  At least he’d only eat my maple bacon and cat treats.

2. I just need to jump on Facebook/Twitter and/or check my email (for the next 2 hours).

3. I’m not sure what to do with this scene/I’m waiting for the characters to tell me what happens next/I’m waiting for an epiphany in the form of a blow to the head or a lightning strike.  How about a kick in the ass?

4. I need to wash my hair.

5. I need to wash the dishes (I know I’m grasping at straws when I use this one).

6. I’m just not in the zombie/cannibal/demon/vampire/insert anything writing mood.  Maybe I will be tomorrow.  Actually, if I sit down and start, I’ll get in the writing mood.  That’s how it works, and I know this.

7. I just need to watch a few videos on You Tube to get inspired first (six hours later…).

8. Another project takes precedence (and so I work on neither one).

9. I have to write a blog today.  Therefore, I can’t work on my current project.  Add any of the aforementioned excuses to this one to find out why the blog doesn’t get written either.

10. I’m exhausted from being the Games Master at Bible camp all week. And, no, they aren’t Hunger Games.

11.  I find it impossible to concentrate with 3 kids running around and asking for snacks/toys/or, as is the case right this second “Mom, where are my arms?” because they are pulled into the small kid’s sleeves.  These interruptions occur approximately five billion times a day during summer break.  I need a break from summer break.

12.  This nervous twitch in my eyelid whenever I stare at the computer for any length of time is stopping me from writing.  I mean really, what the heck?  It’s been like five days!  Maybe I should write a short about a killer nervous twitch.

And now for a quick pep talk to inspire me to get some writing done tonight…

Come on, you lazy puke–you’re not tired!  Eye twitches are kinda fun anyway!  You hate dishes, and besides the dishwasher is running right now.

Put those kids to bed and write, damn it!

Or maybe fall asleep on the couch watching a chick flick…It might generate some great ideas…