I am a confessed analogy freak. I love reading them, but I really love making up my own. I used to be the queen of clichés, but my agent hollered at me so much, I switched to analogies. Now she just shakes her head when she reads my stuff. She tried her damndest, but she couldn't tame me. In my defense, my editor likes most of the ones I use and even comments with LOL in the bubbles on track changes.
I have to admit I go out of my way to avoid clichés because let's face it, it's one day at a time for me as I mentioned. But seriously, I just don't understand what all the fuss is about. If I said I was three sheets to the wind, you'd know I was a tad tipsy. Slept like a log, lying like a rug, drop-dead gorgeous, sweating like a pig, ants in his pants, ace in a hole, barking up the wrong tree – – oy vey – – you get the point, but honestly, I couldn't have painted you a more vivid picture. In each of those cases, you know exactly what I'm talking about.
So I decided to go back over my own manuscript to show you a few of the analogies that tickled my agent/editor/or just me.
He was dark and brooding, as if he'd just been told his pony finished fourth.
Her stomach growled like a mother bear protecting her cubs.
She whirled around, expecting her little bubble of excitement to burst like a piñata at a birthday party with eight-year-old boys on a sugar high.
He would've gone down faster than the Titanic if the younger man had suddenly gone Rambo on her.
When the man turned to face her and flashed his pearly whites, Jordan's heart began to beat like a drummer on speed.
That's not gonna happen my dear. I've seen you drive. You’re like Jeff Gordon on a Red Bull high.
You have to admit analogies give you a pretty good picture without using an adverb. I Googled bad analogies and found the list that supposedly came from high school kids who were asked to write an analogy. Here are my picks for the funniest.
Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster.
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
Her date was pleasant enough, but she knew that if her life was a movie this guy would be buried in the credits as something like “Second Tall Man.”
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
When she spoke he thought he heard bells, as if she were garbage truck backing up.
They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
And my favorite: Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
So that's what I did all day yesterday—read analogies on the Internet and cracked up. I'd really love to hear some of your analogies from your own work. I'll ask my blog mates to pick a winner from one lucky commenter who will win a free download of MORTAL DECEPTION if I ever get it on Amazon. (It’s coming. I promise.)