More common than air…. Damaging like a giant tornado hitting a chainsaw factory…. Similes are sweeping the nation as fast as a cheetah on a motorcycle.
For the grammatically disinclined (you know who you are, or rather, you SHOULD know who you are), a simile is a comparison between two or more things, often using the words “like,” “than” or the ever popular “as [blank] as a [blank].”
Now, as with any other writing device, similes can be done well. Some writers use them to tremendous effect, some wonderful writers even use them often, and I would not take their similes away from them. This doesn’t apply to everyone.
But as Johns Hopkins MFA grad and author May Vanderbilt told me this weekend as we were discussing writing over drinks at the San Francisco Writer’s Conference after our panel with editor Christine Pride (yes, this is what agents and writers do at writer’s conferences), she was once told in writing school that you get one or two similes a book. No more.
No doubt this is hyperbolic advice and not meant to be taken literally. You don’t got ONLY two similes. But unless your gift for similes is as grand as a Steinway piano (get it??), this is something to keep in mind. Similes are like jalapeno peppers. They can add some spice, but too many of them and your reader will spit out your novel and run away.
AmyB says
I’m surprised to hear this advice. There’s a writer in my critique group who’s gifted with physical description and the use of similes and metaphors. He uses them freely, sometimes 3 or more on a page. His writing gets raves from almost everyone who reads it, and I’ll be very surprised if he’s not published someday.
Anonymous says
Everyone knows everything already, Nathan. Their minds are closed…ya know, like a book.
Anonymous says
I don’t know why some people have to argue certain points. Nathan is the expert, he is the seasoned agent and the man who goes to all the important conferences where all the important people in publishing are.
I’m sure Nathan didn’t get to be where he is without knowing a great deal about good writing and bad writing. After all, he is one of the most popular blogging agents on the web today. And that says something.
TransformingPeople says
It doesn’t pay to take any advice too literally because if something works then it works.
That being said, the problem with any literary device – whether it be simile or metaphor or alliteration or assonance or any of them is that used too often, or in the hands of the unskilled practioner, they strip the music from the prose and just leave it sounding pretentious and ‘try hard’.
IMO adverbs are great in a first draft when the focus is on story and not the writing but should be discarded like the rubbish they are (not use of simile!) in second and third drafts where its all about the writing ….
Southern Writer says
Interesting advice. I’ve always been SO bad at following rules. My entry in Nathan’s First 500 contest contained several:
White sheets hung from nails at the windows, drooping in the center like an old man’s middle.
Feeling as smothered as I imagined the lilacs did, their fragrance pressed upon by the fog and mist like petals between the pages of a book, I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what, but I needed more.
I felt like Snow White, and wanted my own cottage.
In the center of it sat an old aluminum pizza pan, black with age and use, heaped with marijuana, chunks of ochre-colored hash, orange Zig-Zags, one hitters, and a blue bong filled with water that smelled as if it had been drawn from a pond.
And that was in just the first 500 words! True, Nathan didn’t choose it, but Holly gave it an honorable mention. I wouldn’t mind hearing from her about whether she was distracted by them. In the meantime, I have to think that like everything else in writing, it’s subjective.
A year or two ago, I disagreed with an editor who said we should never (such a definitive word, never) use the word was. Or that. Technically, I think the use of could sounds passive. I could hear him snoring from the next room. vs. I heard him snoring from the next room. Yet, I see it all the time.
Sometimes rules work, and sometimes they don’t.
Anonymous says
Thank you so much for this advice. I have also noticed the trend of way too many similes in novels (at least in my observation). Thus, I was coming to the conclusion that a writer needs a slew in her writing. Now I don’t have to stress about inserting a ton in my work:-)
(I guess one simile is okay in a short story?)
Anonymous says
I think this must be an issue, like so many related to writing, that doesn’t have a simple answer.
Yes, I can easily see how similes and metaphors could be misused. I think I remember reading an interview with Anne Tyler where she said that she didn’t want to be visible behind the writing. If you overuse descriptive language of any kind, it could be distracting for the reader and just call attention to you back there as the puppet master (oops, there’s one right there).
On the other hand, there’s that old adage of “show, don’t tell” that we’ve all heard from countless writing teachers. Similes and metaphors evoke an emotional response (when done well). They can make things come alive, especially for those of us who actually tend to see things in terms of how they are like other things.
I’m sure Nathan knows what publishers want, though.
Southern Writer, I love your simile about the sheet.
Dr. Dume says
Rules are like beers. One or two, fine, too many and your head spins like a fast-spinny-thing.
My father, Ignatius Dume, was a big fan of similes. ‘He’s as much use as an ashtray on a motorcycle/a handbrake on a canoe/a mortgage consultant’.
I avoid them like the plague.
austexgrl says
Honey, down here in Austin, Texas…where Barack and Hillary are today…we have a LOT of jalapeno peppers in our food.not just one or two, but a lot.and a lot of tequila in our margaritas, and a lot of similies in our stories..Nathan, it depends on where one lives, sweetheart! It’s regional……
Anonymous says
said avoidance being lifted, dr. dume, when comparing rules to beers. a noteworthy exception.
Melanie Avila says
Nathan, your advice is like a live writing manual. Always fresh and changing with the trends, with enough bite to discourage the all but the hardiest writers. Muchas gracias. 😉
superwench83 says
So do I sense a simile contest coming on? 😉
Anonymous says
My two favorite similes:
“A day without sunshine is like… night.” — Steve Martin
“The ships hung in the sky in much the same way that bricks don’t.” — Douglas Adams
Whirlochre says
Similies are like a werewolf paratroop squadron pumped up on courage-enhancing hormones: great if you’ve splashed out good money to gasp at their death-defying aerobatic trickery – but not so good when they crash without warning through your living room ceiling while you laze in front of the TV.
Anonymous says
Ooops. I spent 10 minutes reading the first 10-15 comments before I realised everyone was talking about ‘SIMILES’ – I thought they were talking about ‘SMILES’..as in show your teeth and grin.
Hehehe. What a muppet!
millhousethecat says
As a 5th grade teacher, I am required to do a “unit” on figurative language. While I watch my kiddos struggle writing metaphors, laugh out loud at their alliterations, and puzzle over words to use in place of the retired “said,” I cringe. It goes against all of my writerly (Hey look! A made up adverb!) sensibilities.
But, I do understand the purpose.
Kids who are just learning to write need to be cajoled into finding new words and alternate ways of expressing themselves. They’ll be awful at it initially, but they get better.
And then, when they are adults who want to continue writing, they will learn and understand the “rules” for writing.
Yanno, like sands through the hourglass, those are the ways of our lives.
Bernita says
Nathan, please.
The comparison must be between two otherwise unlike things – that essential fact is often left out of the definition and so I’ve seen claims that “John is like his brother” is a simile.
As for two per book, that’s bullshit.
Am glad you expressed caveats.
I like a good simile.
Anonymous says
“And you don’t have to take my word for it — May went to a writing school taught by Alice McDermott and Stephen Dixon, and that’s where I heard this advice.”
And a double snap right back at ya, m’man. But seriously, dear young Nathan, haven’t you ever heard the old saying, “writing school has ruined more good writers that booze.”
But, I really do agree with the post, and I do know what you’re trying to say; I even have a masters in CW. You didn’t execute it very well, and that’s important with a post like this so new writers will “get” the point.
Anonymous says
I like this blog and get a lot of useful information out of it. Kudos to Nathan for being blunt and giving us a dose of what is “required” by the industry. Any bit helps.
But, with all these rules about what a writer can’t do out there, I’m beginning to wonder what a writer is allowed to do. Maybe no metaphors next? Maybe no foreshadowing? Is minimalism really the key to good storytelling? Yes, you never want to overdo something, but one or two similes per book? Ridiculous.
How the hell are we supposed to find our voices — that voice we’re always told to develop, because it’ll attract an agent — when we’re not given any tools to do so?
I use similes and metaphors, a lot. But they’re loaded, emotionally charged. Not just for that phrase, but how they fit with narrative style. How they fit into the tone of the book and the themes in it. It’s about crafting the story as a whole, phrase by phrase. When they’re used properly by a writer, they should just fade into the background and the reader won’t even notice that they’re reading one.
Summed up: the book is only as good as the tools that a writer has access to. Apparently, using tools can’t sell books anymore.
Nona says
How the hell are we supposed to find our voices — that voice we’re always told to develop, because it’ll attract an agent — when we’re not given any tools to do so?
Anonymous:
I believe that when it comes to creative endeavors, it’s better to lock oneself in a closet to work than listen to “advice” about anything.
When I write, I basically take dictation from my subconscious. While I’m typing it I think, “What is this? Have you gone completely insane?” and when I reread it later with a clear head I say, “Oh my God, this is brilliant. Who wrote this?”
Anonymous says
Good Lord, what a tempest in a teapot. There are no hard and fast rules. Use whatever you want. Five similes a page? Go for it. Similies within metaphors? Knock yourself out.
If it’s done well, it works.
If it’s clumsy and doesn’t work, well, perhaps complaining that Nathan’s advice is constraining your isn’t the best place to start.
When it comes to the elements of the story, language tools like the use of simile are way down the list of priorities. If the plot’s dull, the dialogue’s stilted, then the cleverest similies in the world won’t save you. If everything else comes together, skillful use of tools like simile make a good story better.
I seem to hear some “but MY style is this way and these rules squash my creativity.” Nathan’s making suggestions, not passing down edicts.
Nathan Bransford says
Wow, I can’t believe people are getting angry over similes. What’s next, a war over dangling modifiers?
If this post made you angry, you might think about why it made you angry. I feel like if you read this post and were confident in your simile mastery you would have seen my obvious and numerous caveats and it would have slid right off of you. You know… like a duck’s back.
If, however, it struck an discordant note, I’d think about whether you’re mad at me or mad at the fact that it struck a little close to home and you need to reexamine your novel.
Anonymous says
Sorry. I’m just cranky because I’ve been marking exams and pounding my head on my desk with every question that they screw up.
Maybe it’s also because there’s one more thing on the list of things we’re not allowed to do. A knee-jerk reaction on my part.
Get it? I’m acting like a jerk?
Whatever. Your comment certainly doesn’t hit home because of the similes I use.
Yeah, back to those exams…
Other Lisa says
Nathan, maybe the problem is that you should have compared similes to habaneros instead of jalapenos.
Other Lisa says
Okay, that was a lame attempt at humor on my part and a good example of why I don’t use many similes…
Larry Harkrider says
Speaking on behalf of all clenched tooth fairies, I would just like to say that we like our similes like we like our cigarettes — in PACKS.
No, seriously, I LOVE similes, and they love me, and no 1st grade arithmetic will ever disrupt our union.
But, let’s face it, similes ARE an easy target. If your manuscript fails to inspire, then the critic will reach for the nearest cliche:
This story sucks. First of all, you used too many (insert random literary device), and you forgot to SHOW, not TELL, and…
Anonymous says
Wow, such a lively group!
I always thought art should come from that wild crazy badlands of an idea, and then you should go into town, squint at some nuts and bolts and find out how to build it,
sort of like the creative process of the architect, Gaudi.
Other people think you should learn all about the rules of things and then invent from the rules.
But some of the best stuff comes from both schools and meets somewhere in the middle.
Anonymous says
“If, however, it struck an discordant note, I’d think about whether you’re mad at me or mad at the fact that it struck a little close to home and you need to reexamine your novel.”
I don’t use similies or adverbs, and I’m well published. I just don’t think you got your point across very well, is all. And that’s why there’s such a minor uproar, even with some of the published writers who come here.
The thing that frustates me is that you’re right, and some people aren’t getting it because of the way you executed the point, and that’s a shame because this is so basic, and it could help so many people.
Ulysses says
I think of similies the same way I do adjectives and adverbs. I avoid them whenever I can find a noun or a verb that expresses what I mean in an effective fashion. However, English doesn’t have enough nouns and verbs to convey all the shades of meaning associated with human experience so sometimes you’ve got to bring in “the help.”
I can tell you that a character smelled bad, but “He smelled like he’d bathed in rotten eggs and towelled off with an old sock,” really brings it home. On the other hand, I suppose I could tell you nothing and just show you by having other characters holding hands over their noses, coughing, wiping at streaming eyes and running away from him. . .
I also find similes useful to ground an unusual experience in something familiar. No one has ever heard the sound of a hand-held railgun firing, but if I say it fired “with a hum like a plucked E string,” then the vague and imaginary becomes a little more grounded.
Of course, if you bring in similes alot, they’ll bury your work like a dumptruck full of used diapers, like a gravedigger on speed, like a paranoid doberman with the neighborhood’s best bone. . . like something that buries something else very effectively.
Too much of anything sucks.
Nathan Bransford says
anon-
I will be sure and increase my quota of clarifications and caveats to double digits next time.
Nathan Bransford says
And why are you posting anonymously anyway?
Anonymous says
Because I probably couldn’t have explained it any better 🙂
Grace says
One of the finalists in the First Page contest (Still Life With Flowers)had no fewer than three similes into her opening paragraph. I noticed, because at the time I was going through my MS and removing as many similes as I could. I momentarily questioned my decision to continue cutting them, but did so. Ultimately, I removed about two-thirds of them and I know my book is stronger for it.
My criteria for letting a simile stay was that it had to add something that couldn’t be conveyed well some other way, or add humor, or be a vital part of characterization in dialog. I cut some rather good ones that were too nearby other good ones. Nowhere in my MS do three appear in one paragraph.
Most things simply are what they are, and don’t require similes to be understood. For example, we can imagine wads of tissue tumbling out of a purse without being told that they tumbled out “like lost sheep.”
That said, I think that using only one or two similes (or one or two adverbs, for that matter) in an entire book is a bit of an extreme approach. Don’t let the rules hamstring you, because as one of the First Page finalists proved, the rules aren’t all that rigid.
Larry Harkrider says
I think it’s generally beneficial to impose constraints on prose style. The absence of a particular literary device is, after all, a significant component of the style itself. Constraints force you to think as a writer, instead of doing something easy.
Which brings up another point. I get the feeling that this anti-simile-sentiment derives from the “show don’t tell” philosophy, where the writer is expected to emulate cinema, and provide a textual account of sensory data to the reader, as opposed to using labels to convey entire ideas. It’s not a bad way to write, and I tend to agree with the SDT camp, but not always, and often point to dialogue as the exception.
Question. This anti-simile-sentiment, does it apply to dialogue? Seems like it can’t, given the diversity of human expression, from lofty to to low.
And what about narrative voice? Why should narrative voice obey different rules than dialogue? What happens when your character thinks in simile terms? You might say, “yes, but if it’s CLEARLY the thought of a character, then it’s NOT narrative voice.”
Which would lead to a discussion of POV, and whether or not it deserves more attention than, say, the number of similes used in its conveyance.
Displaced says
Clearly the a trend is for writers to abuse the use of similes in their writing. Its obvious from your point of view that many agents are probably sick of reading too many of them! While reading some popular periodicals today I noticed a ton of similes and adverbs. Likewise, while pursuing many current best seller novels on my desk, I noticed the abundance of similes (and adverbs). Anyhow, your concern is well taken and will definitely make me reconsider using similes more sparingly (oops, sorry for the adverb).
sylvia says
Oh my! Nathan told me I shouldn’t write the way I write! How dare he! Clearly my novel (like a long breath, held deeply) can’t possibly come to fruition. Damn you Nathan, damn you damn you damn you!
*deep breath* Y’all are aware you can write what you like, right? Nathan isn’t the only agent out there and he’s not, actually, in charge of what you do.
I laughed at this post, because I’d JUST decided that I really wasn’t using similes and metaphors and should make a greater attempt to include them in my work … just to hear that they were over-used.
The fact is, my favourite authors use them so skillfully that I despair of ever getting close. I won’t stop using them (MY choice, Nathan can’t make me) but the reminder that I might not wish to splatter them all over the page was quite timely.
Nathan Bransford says
Ok everyone, I’m declaring this thread a no-free-speech zone. Negativity and hostility? Will be deleted henceforth.
I’m all for polite and respectful disagreement. The advice proffered yesterday was (I thought) obviously hyperbolic and meant to be entertaining.
I would respectfully submit that some people might be better served channeling their hostility into something a little more important than some advice about an element of writing on a random blog.
Anonymous says
Shhhh…don’t tell Dennis LeHane. He may never write again, and he’d be sorely, horribly missed.
Anonymous says
I live in Europe and I’ve never heard of Alice McDermott and Stephen Dixon.
Anonymous says
Like a blind man signing off on a list of rules he can’t read, the old writer slogged on, unsteeped in any kind of true craft, but purer of vision nonetheless.
Twill says
Tell it to Toni Morrison. (Tar Baby)
The fog is like maiden aunt’s hair. Then the maiden aunts are whispering around the eaves.
The guy has a savannah for a face. emotions blow like winds across the savannah of his face. etc.
I don’t know if this counts as 2 metaphors or 200, the way she does it, but it sells books.
benwah says
“…my novel (like a breath, held deeply)” THAT’s a gem.
I orginally came to the blog for the advice. Now it’s grown into a source of entertainment: are people really ready to come to blows over simile use? And how is it that Nathan dispenses his opinions to me through the computer screen, yet apparently for others he’s standing over their keyboards, ready to deliver knuckle raps with a ruler should they include one-too-many similes?
Andrew says
I live in Europe and I’ve never heard of Alice McDermott and Stephen Dixon.
I live in the US and never heard of them. But the point isn’t whether they are famous, it’s whether, assuming they are authorities, something one of them once said to his/her student/class was meant for that student/class or for every writer. If the students in Alice M’s class use too many adjectives and she tells them two per book, would she give the same advice to someone who uses no adjectives? What she said to one person/class may well be the polar opposite of what she said to another, and shouldn’t be presented as gospel.
Nathan Bransford says
If you haven’t heard of Alice McDermott…. well, let’s just say your problems are much worse than a possible misuse of similes.
I’ll give you a hint: you might want to google for “winners of the national book award.” Or “three-time nominees for Pulitzer Prize in fiction.”
Now, Ms. McDermott probably uses plenty of similes in her wonderful books, I haven’t gone and counted. And I’m sure, whichever teacher said this to May (she herself, to my knowledge, doesn’t remember exactly who it is), they didn’t mean it literally. But I’d also imagine they wouldn’t probably encourage people to get really mad.
Larry Harkrider says
“Wouldn’t encourage people to get mad.”
Where’s the fun in that? Controversy makes for good conversation. Unfortunately, the blog format doesn’t foster discussion, being little more than a digital graffiti wall.
The delightful news is that I got linked to this topic from a literary forum where the fate of the simile, semicolon, and kenning (among other things) dangles by the slenderest of em dashes.
Just so it's 100 says
I hate similes myself, but then, I suck at writing them. My similes are like…
See?
pete peterson says
I thought this was a humorous post as I read it after just having finished Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. Not only is it amazing but it is full of page long strings of similes that are nothing short of mind blowing. A feat that certainly ought not to be tried by just anyone.
Beth says
A good simile is a shortcut. In a few words, a simple comparison, a thing is defined with far more clarity, vividness, sophistication, or subtlety than could possibly achieved with a more straightforward description.
A bad simile is tired, cliched, or boring, and does nothing more than add words to the page.
A novel can be enriched by the former, but dragged down by the latter.
Nathan Bransford says
Well said, Beth.
mkcbunny says
I had to come back to this post after a couple of days spent editing my novel. I know that I am a simile user, so of course, now I’m reviewing each one to determine whether it’s, to use beth’s terms, a good shortcut or a tired cliche. Thanks for the post. Very helpful, if terrifying.