Witch title brigs us to a discusion (sic) of tgpfgrapal errors (sic), otherwise known as the writer’s inability to spell authorial brain farts—or finger farts because the brain is imagining a story that is travelling by neural impulse down the writer’s neck and down the writer’s arms and into the writer’s fingers and coming out the pads of the writer’s fingers onto a keyboard (sick). Oh, my God—The Humanity!
On a purely personal note, I write to avoid clichés like the plague, clichés in language and clichés of thought that rain down like cats and dogs. I write to avoid allegory that brings a tempest in a tea pot or sentimentality as American as apple pie. However, there is always some sentimentality that will wiggle in on pretty puppy paws and wag its tail until I give it a bed in my manuscript, and there is always the lurking cliché, the cliché that is so cliché and so lurking that it hits the nail on the head so well I don’t even recognize it as a cliché, because it creeps in lurkingly (on little puppy paws) and toes the line.
Then too, and by too I mean also and added on, there is repetition, which repeats repetitively until it repeats itself beyond all previous repetitions. I can’t say enough about this problem.
As one of my college professors warned his befuddled student (me) so long ago, the writer must suppress his or her sesquipedalian tendencies and eschew obfuscation. So we pick the perfect word, but it turns out not to be so perfect because the readers think it means something the writer never intended.
Take my novel, The Raptures of Time (yes, please take it, and by take I mean buy the damned book because it needs to sell ten million copies because it’s brilliant and meaningful and thrilling and it will give you a hard on—even if you are a female).
When I fished about for a title for The Raptures of Time, and as Thoreau wrote, time was a stream that I went a fishing in, I spent a hell of a lot of time seeking a word that would convey the idea of being carried away through time and another dimension while also being carried away by extreme sexual ecstasy. Certainly the primary meaning of rapture is being lifted up, even out of oneself, by gusty emotions or sexual transport. The first known use of the word rapture occurred in 1594, a while before John Nelson Darby came along and applied the term to Christian eschatology and created the “rapture” of dispensationalism.
Could I have ever considered that my title might lead readers to assume falsely that my gay erotic novel might connect up with the so-called Left Behind series?
So take note, fellow authors, beware, for you too may be rabidly incoherent and end up mentally masturbating metaphorically instead of writing something meaningful and profound like these meaningful and profound words of expert advice.