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Back in September, I published Emotional Beats: How to Easily Convert your Writing into Palpable Feelings. As promised, I will be posting the book on my blog. So, here is the next installment, starting Part 3 of the book: Other Beats. As this is a rather long section, I’ve broken it into two posts.

Analogies, Metaphors, and Similes (Part 2)

Emotional Beats | From the blog of Nicholas C. Rossis, author of science fiction, the Pearseus epic fantasy series and children's books

Read for free with KU

A good analogy is harder to find than… erm… well, it’s pretty hard. Unless you have these to help:

  • Ideas bounced inside his head like tiny rubber balls.
  • He chewed on some idea or other, gnawing away as if they there were seeds or pulp.
  • He hemmed and hawed, shuffled his feet like a petulant schoolboy who doesn’t want to confess a wrong deed.
  • He sifted words like sand, trying to lessen a blow he never meant to administer.
  • She could see the string dangling from his thoughts like a kite caught in a tree.
  • Her nose went all wrinkled as if she had caught whiff of a raccoon long dead.
  • His words hummed inside her head like a nest of angry hornets some fool poked with a stick.
  • She swallowed courage by the glassful, letting the words slip through her lips.
  • Her voice rang like a pealing church bell announcing the second coming.
  • His eyes went wide and bright, as if in competition with the low-hanging moon.
  • She didn’t know if she’d call fear, that sharp taste at the back of her throat, but his words swooped down on her like angry swallows coveting a barn.
  • He dropped to the ground like a lead mannequin.
  • Her hands were as cold as a hot-water bag in the morning.
  • The stone was as cold as the drifting snow.
  • Her belly was as cold as if she had swallowed snowballs.
  • Her lips were as cold as the night winds.
  • She floated onto the street like a ballerina on her big debut.
  • He waved off her words like they were mosquitoes.
  • Her gaze hit the floor like a dropped quarter.
  • A rip along the bottom of her bag called to mind some battlefield casualty, like a veteran’s scar.
  • He grinned like that ancient serpent, tricking foolish Eve all over again.
  • He crept across the threshold like a mangy old mutt scrounging for the crumbs of yesterday’s supper.
  • Liking her came as easy as sipping iced tea on a lazy August afternoon.
  • Denials leaped from my tongue like watermelon seeds bent on winning a distance contest. But the words bumped one into another, falling into a pile at my feet.
  • His cheeks pinked up real nice, like a schoolgirl’s.
  • Smoke swirled up like a charmed snake from his pipe.
  • Angry words buzzed through the room like hornets threatening with their barbed stingers those evicting them from their nest.
  • She stood bare before him, a new Eve; a female Cain.
  • She spun hard on me like a top that’s lost its center.
  • His greed came awful heavy, like a wet wool blanket suffocating, snuffing out the light.
  • My words fell dead and brittle like oak leaves in fall.
  • His gaze took hold of her, searched her body up and down like she’d only just now appeared from the ether; a dream or a specter looking for something solid to rest upon.
  • Secrets swirled around us like spirits of the dead looking in on sins of the living.
  • Second thoughts poked and jabbed at him like a sharp stick.
  • Long shadows like dirty fingers reached out from between darkened houses forever empty.
  • Fear swallowed whole the curiosity I’d foolishly dared sport with.
  • A familiar recollection filled the void in my head, spinning memories of…
  • His voice came as soft as his brown-eyed gaze.
  • He spewed demands as thick as black smoke.
  • The little house sported airs of a petulant child demanding a treat despite its naughty doings.
  • She rose like a hornet got her on the backside.
  • A grin curled around her full lips like a lazy cat settling in a puddle of midday sunshine.
  • They drifted inside the house like flotsam wandering away from the actual wreck.
  • Nobody could snatch that smile from her lips.
  • The darkening sky rumbled like an empty stomach.
  • Her gaze sifted him like a handful of loose pebbles.
  • He knitted wisdom to logic and strung a fine bunch of words together; lines carrying enough sway to spring a condemned soul from a death owed.
  • A bead of sweat like a lover’s fingertip traced her spine beneath her blouse.
  • Like a benevolent specter from the netherworld, he eased back into the inky black.
  • Like a perfect ballerina, she pulled lazy pirouettes behind the true bones of his discontent.
  • She drifted toward him like smoke.
  • Footsteps in the stairs outside yanked her from the dirty little smudge of her naughty daydream.
  • Her dress graced the floor with a pale blue splash like fallen sky. Discarded underpants conjured visions of puffy white clouds.
  • He grinned at her like the devil grinned at Eve.
  • His grin washed away like chalk drawings in a spring rain.
  • Like quiet smoke, her body settled into the narrow scrap of space of the bathtub.
  • A jumble of protests meant to plead his innocence came loose from my lips and fell to the floor, scattering into nothing worthwhile.
  • Her silence pricked the sticky air and made it bleed.
  • Silence sprinkled the room with its ancient dust.
  • Silence, heavy as baled cotton, fell in around them, blotting out the happenings on the street.
  • Her tongue went dry as toast; her tone cracked against the quiet air.
  • He was as nosy as a heated tomcat.
  • Suspicion turned the sticky air fearful.
  • Lines of smoke swirled from his nostrils like dizzy snakes.
  • Smoke, like twin phantom snakes, curled lazily from his nose. Demons they were, peeking through for a curious gawk at what lay ahead of her.
  • Inky black butterflies gathered along the edges of her sight, whispering threats of putting out what little light remained.
  • His words came out delicate, an easy saying wrapped in a whisper.
  • Her words fell out a frantic mess, like frenzied bees shook loose of their hive.
  • Her eyelids gave a flutter like brand new butterfly wings hoping for flight. She fixed on him through a lazy squint.
  • His brow furrowed as if ideas bumped headlong into his mind.
  • The words lingered in the space between them like the stench of something gone rancid in the heat.
  • The name came sour against her tongue, sharp and jagged. She spoke it aloud and cringed at the taste.
  • Hushed voices conspired like conniving schoolboys behind the thin door.
  • His point jabbed me like the sharp end of a stick.
  • The building was designed with a sort of enclosing roof, a Noah’s Ark on stilts, offering the added advantage it would forever be beyond the reach of floods.

Next week: Chairs, windows, and furniture. View all posts on the subject, or buy the book on Amazon – free on KU!

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