There's something so very satisfying about finding just the right word. One that works on so many levels that it feels a little bit like writing poetry.
Take synonyms for "cut", for example.
"Carve" is rough and deep. It brings to mind jagged lines, repeated motions-- sawing into a pumpkin, taking apart a turkey, forcing stone into unnatural shape, whittling wood away a splinter at a time. There's also the long "ah" like a grunt of effort, the similar sound to "curve", the R like tearing paper.
And then there's "slice"-- quick, clean, sharp. With food it is efficient-- a pizza that can be eaten without so much as a plate, peaches and apples devoid of their core and the threat of juice spilling down the chin. The sound begins and ends with sibilance-- as if the word is an onomatopeia, the beginning and end of a blade being drawn in the space of a single syllable. The emphasis on that S sound-- like sword, like snake, like slide, like strike.
And the real beauty is that most of the time, you're not even thinking about any of that-- the word's connotations, the music of its sounds, the suggestion of words that are just similar enough-- often for the writer, as for the reader, all those things are subconscious, the connections made in the blink of an eye, felt even when they're invisible.
And you don't know why. All you know is that they feel right.
jacobvanloon
areudirty
baratheonpilled
