Spider web…of doom!
I like to conclude spoken sentences with the words “of doom!” Sometimes this practice makes sense, like with the statement: “That standing water is going to create a mosquito cloud…of doom!” Other times, it makes less sense (i.e., “I need to go feed my friend’s cat…um, of doom.”).
Seaweed of doom
My nephew recently asked what doom means, since his Auntie Kelly says it so often. My definition featured a menagerie of sound effects and wild gesticulations, which I didn’t think was an issue until I saw the reenactment he provided for my sister. “Hey, Mommy, do you want to know what doom is? It’s when things are all FWOOSH! KABLAM!” While he continued his demonstration with a cacophony of dramatic noises and dance of flailing limbs, my sister looked at me as if to say, Please refrain from defining any additional words for my son.
Fly trap of doom
But if it weren’t for sound effects and spastic gestures, my ability to define words would decrease by about 75%. For a writer, I imagine that’s a bad thing, but I don’t care. Sound effects and gestures are fun, and words are a pain in my ass. When I try to find them, they elude me. Even a word as simple as “excitement” will fly right out of my head if I search for it, but I can always assume a wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression, add some exuberant jazz hands, and squeal, “Eeee!” to express the same damn thing.
Tunnel of doom
If I could use this same method to write novels, the process would be far easier. I could’ve created the story of Aret in a week instead of 3+ years. Now that I think about it, it might be a good idea to roll out the third book of Aret (since book two is already more than halfway done, using that cumbersome, word-based method) as a performance art piece. I imagine myself leaping across a stage exclaiming, “And then the dragons go FWOOSH! RAWR! BAZAAM!” until my epic trilogy soars at last to its amazing conclusion…
Hmm. I really think this could work.