A well-turned phrase is like a well-tuned musical instrument. Like a painstakingly optimized piano, phrases carefully crafted stay with me indefinitely. Some are humorous, some are ominous, some are uplifting.
I find that falling into a phrase which resonates with myself and others is my favorite part of writing. I say “falling into” because sometimes it seems the idea I’m working to produce appears at my feet like a well broken-in pair of sneakers, comfortable and welcoming, ready to tread over new ground.
Let’s be honest with ourselves: we’ve read books, articles, blogs, all forms of the written word penned and gathered in the most stilted, awkward, off-putting phrases and sentences and paragraphs. I’m not even talking about “It was a dark and stormy night” level of hackery. While we’re at it, let’s remember that as far as imagery goes, that’s not approaching the least palatable.
When a writer pours time and effort and – come on, you know it’s true – love into their work, it engages the reader in ways that writing passionless copy never could.
Turning a phrase moves the story along as much as a MacGuffin because it can ping a part of the brain and releases that flow of participation that makes a reader an ACTIVE reader. And what slow-witted book troll prefers to wallow in sallow language, when there is an impetus derived from reading a piece that sends the enthusiast down the syntactical path to a rewarding conclusion?
Turning the phrase isn’t, by the way, about cleverness, although sagacity doesn’t hurt. At least in my view, the content of the work is tantamount to its linguistic frippery. Phrases which turn to move the machinery of the passage are the gears that drive it, and a little ingenuity never hurts to speed things along.
That’s enough of a reason for me to want to turn the page when I’m reading, and enough, I hope, to make my readers want to turn theirs, too.
Bingo Fitzpatrick 