Lovely Gleaming Bit 'O Magic

The more I write, the more I realize how very narrow and well-trod are the paths through my brain.

Last year, I heard a sixth-grader give a report on writing; one of the steps to good writing, he said, was to make a list of your "go-to" words and forbid yourself from using them. There are words that I use as often as I wear my ratty, long, balled sweater in the house; there are images I turn to easily, as I'd turn to one of my children. . .yeah, yeah, there's always the bird, feathers bright against snow/feather bright as blood/etc. image. The gleam of wood/hair/etc. under lamplight. "Gleam" is a favorite word for me these days. It tastes good on my tongue and makes me warm, too, like tea. . .maybe it's a winter word.

Then there are the words I use about a thousand times a day in correspondence and conversation. Lovely is at the top of my list. Fabulous, wonderful. "Brilliant," not quite so bad. A "Jolly" once and a while.

It's absolutely (oh, I use that a lot, too, absolutely, absolutely I do) painful to listen to the recordings of my interviews for the paper, because I have to listen to my own grating voice saying, "That's great," and "Oh, that's so nice," about twenty times every few minutes. I sound like a bumbling idiot, usually because I'm trying to jot down notes as the subject is speaking. Still, it's a terribly (oh, that one too) humbling experience.

Are signature/overused words okay, do you think, in common speech and repartee? Are they like comfortable clothes, after all, or a familiar scent, or do they just stink after a while, like a mouse in your pocket?

Just got good news: one of my poems, Geometry, was nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and will appear along with two other poems in the upcoming issue of Lamplighter Review. Special thanks to my fabulous in-house editor, Martin B. Cockroft the Magnificent, who pushes me to spare language, simplicity, and good form.