Go Ahead, Make my Cliche

As someone with the blood of a mongrel coursing through her veins, part Scottish, Ceylonese and Belgian, I'm very sensitive to one of the cruelest criticisms against a writer, if not a human being - and that is, that one has sunk to the level of a cliche.

Cliches of course, breed like rabbits. One minute you're wandering around cool as a cucumber, thinking you're just the ant's pants because you stand out from the crowd, the next it seems that whatever you think or say is basically yesterday's news.

Now if you're poorly read, you probably don't have a prayer of spotting a cliche. Because it is only to the avid reader that a cliche will stick out like dog's balls.

Let me give you an example as to the utility of reading. Years ago, in 1982 to be specific, I was doing a creative writing subject at university. I wrote one of those bizarre stories that I still write today, bizarre, unusual, and worthy of my Scottish/Belgian/Ceylonese roots when I was mortified to have one of my painstakingly constructed metaphors circled in red pen and the word 'CLICHE' written next to it by my lecturer (incidentally, a well-known Brisbane poet).

My metaphor was this: "His hands fluttered as nervous doves."

Well, imagine my disgust when later in 1985, I was reading Peter Carey's award winning 'Illywhacker' only to find the exact same metaphor except in this instant, the fellow's hands weren't doves but birds.

PETER CAREY's editor did not pick up his cliche which had clearly been ripped off an 18-year-old's term assignment!

Indeed, the comparison of hands, with their capacity for infinite movements and the natural formation of wings by fingers is no great stretch for a writer.

I forgave Carey his calumny but my point is that it if it was difficult for the editor of a major work to identify a cliche then, how difficult must it be now?

Cliches are everywhere these days, packaged as 'archetypes', 'stereotypes' and 'formulae.' Regardless of how hard you push the envelope, in advertising, cinema and most creative forms, there's a sense of having seen it all before. Of having been there and done that.

That's why cliche spotting can be both a sport and a satisfying past time, whether you're a writer or not, and you should jump at the chance to find and exterminate these annoying critters, no holds barred.

Alternatively, if you're really hot to trot on that piece of imagery, with some sleight of hand that old cliche could have a new lease on life.

For example let's look at: "His hands fluttered as nervous doves."

The metaphor may metamorphosise with some tweaking into a host of alternatives.

His digits, fat as beaks, flicked here and there like toucans with tourettes. Perhaps. Or his fingers groomed imaginary wings. Maybe. Or his hands imagined shadow eagles. Hmm, it has potential. Or his fingers ruffled angry feathers. Better.

Culling the loathesome cliche is part of the hard work of writing. If it means you've got to get back to the drawing board, then such is life. After all, nothing worthwhile was ever easy.