Ain’t No Dance Floor Wide Enough

My thesaurus is pushing 30. Looks it too. Even before I became a Serious Writer™, I loved words.

 
Goofy words, elegant words, swear words, unusual words, ordinary words, just about any word except the Gen X boogey-word “moist”. And “palpable” because that’s moist and also throbbing. And “turgid” because gross.

 
Verbs are my favorite. Shuck, shimmy and suckerpunch. Nouns got next. Snake charmer, the Shire, sassafras. I like adjectives and adverbs more than I supposed to. Rules of writing be damned. Interjections, Yes! And my white trash upbringing bequeathed a love of prepositional pile-ups. “Go on up into the kitchen and pour yourself some lemonade.”

 
But lately, I haven’t been spending much time with my common law thesaurus even though now that NaNo’s done and won, I’m back on my bullshit regarding “finding the perfect word. “ I’ve been playing around with the idea that usually I am not looking for another word, but a more specific word. So, it not a matter of subbing digit for finger (ugh, don’t). But, for me, going +1 on the idea. Forefinger, pinky, middle finger, ring finger, pointer, thumb, index, and so on.

 
And because I don’t settle for a +1 when I can go +56, I’m also playing around with matching word choice to scene. If a finger appears in a scene involving a domestic dispute, should it be the ring finger? Should my know-it-all use his pointer? Brill or overkill? Don’t know yet, but it will be fun to find the line.

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