In Defence of Cliches
By Jo Eberhardt | June 4, 2016 |
Photo by Flickr user Tom Newby
Fifteen minutes of perusing the worldwide internet will give you a melting pot of advice about clichés, all of which boils down to one simple statement: Clichés are bad.
Nothing ruins good writing like clichés.
It’s been said so many times, it’s almost a cliché. But…. Is it always true?
When Clichés Attack
Now, before you come out swinging, just hold your horses. You don’t want to jump to conclusions or go into this half-cocked. A stitch in time saves nine, as they say, and you should always look before you leap. Bear with me for two shakes of a lamb’s tail, and when all is said and done, we’ll see how the cookie crumbles in the light of day.
See that? That nauseating paragraph above? That’s a prime example of exactly why clichés have such a bad rap. Reading it is an exercise in masochism. (Although, I have to admit, the opportunity to write and publish a paragraph of nothing-but-clichés was more than a little amusing.)
If your prose is packed full of clichés, please ignore everything I’m about to say. But for those of us who have spent years weeding our work of accidental clichés, maybe it’s time to consider whether it’s possible that we’re doing ourselves a disservice.
A Time and a Place
Imagine, if you will, that you’re going on a date. You’re all dressed up and you’re out to make a good impression. Every aspect of the night has been planned to perfection. You pick up your date, deliver the right compliments, and make just the right type of small talk. And then you spring your sinner surprise: you detour through the McDonald’s drive-thru and ask if your date would prefer a Quarter Pounder or a Big Mac. (Spoiler: The date doesn’t end well.)
Imagine, the second: It’s three o’clock in the morning. You’re drunk. You can feel tomorrow’s hangover stalking you, and the alcohol has worn off just enough that you’re painfully aware that you have to get up in three hours to get ready for work. And up ahead, glowing like a beacon of salvation, is the most glorious sight you’ve ever seen: the Golden Arches.
Look, here’s the thing. We all know that McDonald’s isn’t healthy. It barely qualifies as food. There are zillions of reasons not to eat it. And yet there’s something about that combination of predictability, efficiency, and transmogrified sugar and fat that acts as a siren song in some circumstances. You wouldn’t want to live solely on McDonald’s (and, if you tried, you wouldn’t live long), but does that mean we can never eat it?
Clichés are the McDonald’s of language. As long as you’re not trying to force your readers to subsist solely on the tempting aroma of overused, hackneyed language, it’s okay to throw in a pre-loved phrase every now and then. Clichés are short-hand for a whole language experience that ties into history, culture, and previously read stories. When I tell you that the grass is always greener, you don’t have to ponder what I mean – nor do I have to spend three pages or perfect prose explaining Little Johny’s motivations. Just like a McDonald’s burger, it’s efficient and predictable — and not at all nutritious.
(Note: I hear on the grapevine that McDonald’s may not be the fast food of choice for inebriated non-Australians. In our defence, we don’t have Taco Bell. If McDonald’s doesn’t float your boat, replace with your fast food franchise of choice.)
As I Was Saying…
The one area of your writing that experts tell us clichés are allowable is within dialogue. Writing authentic dialogue means capturing the way people really speak (minus the ums, ahs, pointless repetitions, and all that jazz), and we do like to speak in clichés.
But beyond authenticity, there’s another reason clichés can be useful in dialogue. A character’s choice of cliché says an awful lot about her. While many of our most common clichés are endemic throughout the English-speaking world (thanks, Shakespeare!), there are whole swathes of region-specific clichés.
Consider the character who says: “He’s happy as a dead pig in the sunshine, but you be like the old lady who fell out of the wagon, you hear?”*
Or the one who says: “The old digger may have a few ‘roos loose in the top paddock, but you stop stirring the pot, and she’ll be right.”
Both of those lines of dialogue are full of cringeworthy clichéd slang. And yet, the use of those clichés is efficient short-hand to introduce readers to the nationality, background, and general personality of secondary characters.
Oh, that’s an important point. A protagonist who speaks solely in clichés is about as endearing as that date who took you to the McDonald’s drive-thru in the above example. Stick to letting secondary and walk-on characters immerse themselves in empty calories.
The Anti-Cliché
Wouldn’t it be great if we could get all the efficiency and recognition of a cliché without actually using a cliché? Of course we do. But if wishes were horses, beggars would dine.
Which brings me, of course, to anti-clichés. An anti-cliché is one wherein you set up the stage to deliver a cliché, and then subvert your reader’s expectations. It’s the old bait-and-switch. Or, as sometimes happens, the old bait-and-miss. For example:
- A bird in the hand is rarely practical.
- All work and no play gives Jack an impressive 401(k).
- Build a man a fire, and he’ll be warm for a day. Set a man on fire, and he’ll be warm for the rest of his life. (c/- Sir Terry Pratchett)
Now, some of these anti-clichés have been used so often, they’ve evolved into clichés in their own right (If you don’t believe me, try saying the phrase “build a man a fire” to any Pratchett face.), so use them wisely.
Cliché vs. Trope
But, hang on. When people say that they’re worried their story is clichéd, those aren’t the clichés they’re looking for. What they’re really worried about is that their characters are clichés, or their plot is clichéd, or maybe that scene where the villain ties the hero to a Rube Goldberg death machine and reveals his motivations and plans is clichéd. (Spoiler: It is.) So, let’s talk about character and story clichés.
They work exactly the same way as in-text clichés.
Clear as mud? Okay, let’s unpack this a little. But, first, let me break down the difference between a Trope and a Cliché, when it comes to your story.
Trope: Any aspect of your story (plot, character, scene, pattern, device, etc) that we recognise as such. Tropes are not bad. Nor are they good. They’re just story elements that exist.
Cliché: Any trope that has been used in the same way so many times that it is now predictably boring.
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away, an orphan boy was the Chosen One who saved the galaxy, and it was hella exciting. But that trope has been played so many times now, that the moment we meet an orphan boy at the start of a movie, we roll our eyes and start playing Candy Crush on our phones.
So, what does that mean for you?
- Clichéd characters and stories are generally considered to be bad. This is largely because if you overuse them, you risk your readers dying from malnutrition.
- The occasional use of a clichéd minor character or plot device is not going to destroy your story, and can actually be more efficient than a long-winded explanation of something or someone that’s not integral to your story.
- Do not make your protagonist or main storyline a cliché. It won’t end well.
- Use anti-clichés to subvert readers’ expectations — and don’t be afraid to be self-aware about it.
At the end of the day, there are no new stories. There are no new tropes. All tropes will become clichés. But, one day, all that was old will be new again. So write the story that you want to write. Make your writing as awesome as you can make it — whether that be with or without the occasional cliché nipping at your heels.
What do you think of clichés? Are they the bees knees or just another stop on the highway to Hell?
[coffee]
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
Thank you for the interesting post, Jo.
I’ve also heard the advice that cliches are okay as long as they’re used in dialogue. I would imagine that their usefulness outside dialogue would depend on the story’s narrative voice. Is the narrative first person, or is there an omniscient narrator that steps into different characters’ perspectives? Either way, cliches may fit characters’ ways of thinking as well as speaking. Or the narrative voice itself may be a “character” of a sort, with a distinctive way of speaking about things that may include cliches–used intentionally for effect, and not just as a lazy writing habit.
Laziness is also a problem with plot/character cliches. The example you gave–villain is about to kill hero and reveals all his plans–is such a great example of what’s wrong with cliches because it is lazy plotting. The author wants the hero to learn all the villain’s plans and this is an easy (and melodramatic!) way to make that happen.
A badly-used trope annoys the reader with what is predictable or cheesy. A well-used trope links the story to a long tradition of other stories with similar plot or character archetypes, the similarity adding richness for the reader rather than diminishing it.
If only there was a simple formula for knowing when I was doing the latter, not the former!
Oh, yes, wouldn’t it be great if there were that easy formula! I suppose that’s why we depend on beta readers for honest feedback, as well as our own gut instincts.
I agree that cliches in the narrative are a much harder “sell”, but I think you’re right when you say the real key is mindfulness. A cliche used for effect is always going to be more welcome than a stream of unintentional cliches.
Love this post, Jo. I sometimes don’t mind a cliche now and then as it can be charming if used in the right context, or subcontext. Your post brings to mind Dicken’s “Old Marley was as dead as a doornail.” On Downton Abbey, the butler Carson says it when referring to the dead Mr. Pamook. Carson said it in such a deadpan way, I had to laugh.
Ah, yes. I’m a big fan of the cliche used as an intentional pop culture reference. It’s completely natural for the character, and yet hilarious for the viewer/reader.
Jo-
You’ve opened a big topic.
(Keep it short, Don.) Clichés in prose tend to clunk. Clichés in dialogue can be overdone too. Story tropes have lower impact than story surprises.
Where the familiar is helpful, I find, is in the simple story patterns that underlie ambitious novels. Like Water For Elephants is essentially a romance. So is Outlander. Snow Falling on Cedars is built around a murder mystery *and* a romance.
Durable story patterns are durable because they satisfy deep needs in us: the needs for justice, love, adventure, healing, and so on.
Stories can also instruct, challenge, moralize, open our eyes and make us think and see anew. Often, though, what we are discovering is a durable truth, just in a new setting.
So, yes, ask me cliché has its place, even if a different term might serve us better.
Thanks for the comment, Don. Yes, it’s a bg topic — and somewhat hard to cover in a short post.
I agree with what you’re saying. I suppose I just take exception to the “all cliches are bad” advice, the same way I do with Steven King’s oft-repeated “all adverbs are bad” perspective. Anything can be bad if done to an extreme, but that doesn’t mean they don’t serve their purpose.
I also wonder whether some of the best story surprises in modern fiction aren’t actually cliched story tropes turned upside down to subvert the reader’s expectations, while a familiar and durable trope plays itself out in a new way. Stories all build on each other, and it’s when you ignore that as a writer that you find yourself unknowingly walking on cliched ground.
No matter how much we may hate it, every vampire novel for the last ten years has been standing on the shoulders of Twilight, and we ignore that at our peril.
Fun and useful post, Jo! You’ve reminded me of something I enjoy in my dialogue. Since I’m writing in a historical world (aproximately 1500 years ago), I often find myself grappling for a familiar expression an idiom my characters can use, but the context of the existing (cliché) expression is too modern. I have fun tailoring something similar to fit the circumstance. An example that springs to mind: two warrior characters are discussing how their goals, though distinct, may have some overlap. Rather than having one say, “Let’s lay our cards on the table,” I have her say, “Let’s lay out our kits and count our arrows, shall we?”
Of course, as with anything, even these altered versions can be overdone and wear out their welcome. Everything in moderation, right? *Raises his cup in salute (it’s 10 a.m., so coffee this time)* Cheers, Jo!
“Colder than a witch’s teat” might still apply for the period, Vaughn. ;)
One of my absolute favourite expressions (as created by a friend in an RPG) is: “By the fire queen’s hairy tits!”
Evocative in all the wrong ways.
Oh, that sounds like so much fun, V. I’m a big fan of creating my own idioms for my characters, and I love the idea of taking a modern expression and converting it to something more appropriate for the setting.
Cheers to you, too! (It’s morning here now, so I am also drinking coffee as I write this.)
That Pratchett quote was more fun than a barrel of buckshot.
Loved this, Jo. Yeah, we’ve been told so oft not to use clichés, we forget their benefits. But it’s for good reason: first, we must learn the rules, then we can bend or even break them — just like in the Matrix. We don’t want to face an Agent unless we can dodge bullets, do we?
What am I saying? Dodge bullets? No…let me rephrase that. What I’m saying is that when we’re ready, we won’t have to. ;)
Thanks for your wisdom.
Thanks for your comment, Morpheus. I’ll take the red pill, thanks, and follow that white rabbit all the way down the rabbit hole.
Learn the rules, break the rules. Pretty sure Picasso had something to say along those lines.
Of all the ‘rules’ of writing that are tossed around, this is probably the one I pay the least attention to. Do I want paragraphs like that opening sample? Of course not. But the idea that any writer poo-poos cliches is fraudulent.
As you’ve noted, there are no new stories. Realistically, the most gigantic cliche in all of fiction is the story concept “Will Jack and Jill get together?” yet that story concept continues to sell more than anything else and probably always will.
It boils down to what I took away as the point you are making–use common sense and don’t bludgeon people with them, any more than we would with any other technique in our writing.
Absolutely, BK. Bludgeoning people rarely makes you friends.
Will Jack and Jill get together? It’s a story as old as time: Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy kills girl, girl turns into zombie, zombie eats boy’s face off. Together forever.
Yes, of course I throw in clichés in dialogue when it fits the character’s voice.
However
Often when writing narrative I’m aware of working too hard to avoid a cliché. It would fit the sentence admirably, it would not be too obvious, but it’s a CLICHÉ! And so I stop writing fluidly and start searching for a succinct way to express the same thing; and when I’ve got the d***d sentence written I may be left with a cumbersome moment. So I mark it and leave it for editing later, and write on. Later when editing I sometimes revert to the original cliché, because that is the best way to say it. If it slides in comfortably and lets the sentence flow, if it does not hit you in the eye, I think it has a trusted place.
English is so ‘rich’ with clichés, it’s hard to avoid them. I firmly believe many clichés are useful and natural. I don’t have a list of them – each must be evaluated as it arises. To avoid a cliché just because it IS a cliché can often lead to unnecessarily laboured style.
Oh, I absolutely agree, Lyn. I think mindfulness is important — you have to know what you’re using is a cliche. But sometimes it really is the simplest and most appropriate way to say something.
I mean, really, who wants to read that kind of laboured and cumbersome writing, when a simple phrase could move the story so much more effectively and efficiently.
I think Elmore Leonard had it a bit tooooo stringent with his absolute rules. There are no rules for fiction – just guidelines. (I’m sure his tongue was firmly in his cheek when he first wrote his list.) Oops. Delete ‘tooooo’. Delete ‘firmly’. Delete ‘first’.
I mean, what would we do without adverbs? I use adverbs all the time, not to add to or intensity a verb, but to shift its meaning slightly. (oops)
He ran home.
But what if I want to show that he was reluctant to get there, and walking would make him late.
He jogged? He loped?
No.
He ran home reluctantly. He ran home slowly.
In fact, once we know the ‘rules’, we’d better be prepared to break them. IMHO
Ah, cliches. Can’t live with ’em, can’t live without using them part of the time.
The difference is using them by choice.
In the real world, cliches pop to mind and then to tongue because we need a reaction, fast.
In writing, though, we have all the time we need to take what popped out and ask if it’s the best solution to the problem at hand, whether that problem is characterization, plot, theme…
So let the cliches out when you write, but note what you’ve done, and in the rewriting, ask yourself if that’s the way you really want to solve your problem – and whether it couldn’t be tweaked to be much better by an application of judicious afterthought, the kind we don’t get a chance to use in real life.
Just because you’ve written it, doesn’t make it so.
Great comment, Alicia. If there’s one thing I always say, it’s that the great thing about writing is that it’s not brain surgery: if you don’t get it right the first time, nobody dies.
Cliches can be very useful in a first draft. Just use them as shorthand for what you mean as you power through the first round and then in the rewrite go back and freshen them, find new ways to express what the old did so well.
Great article Jo! And Ray, that’s exactly how I use clichés — as a shortcut in the first draft.
Thanks, Vijaya.
That’s a great point, Ray. Thanks!
Lovely and thoughtful post, Jo — which I will now proceed to degrade with a contribution of my own:
NOT JUST ANOTHER PRETTY PHRASE
Grandfather grew up in one of those quaint European countries that don’t exactly exist anymore, and while he never quite mastered the English language, he was always an ardent fan.
Or, as he put it, an eager beagle.
In Grandfather’s world, if you got in trouble you were up a creek without a puddle. If you admired someone, you’d want to follow suit in their footsteps. If you were odd, you stuck out like a sore throat. When you wanted to examine something closely, you’d go over it with a fine toothbrush. If you had hidden value, you were a diamond in the rut, and if you achieved something, that was a feather in your nest.
Of all his grandchildren I’m sure I was his favorite. He used to call me a chip off the old shoulder. We were close, he’d say, like two peas in a pot, through fast and famine, come hell or hot water. Still, he took pains to warn me not to get too big for my bridges. “One stop at a time,” he said. “Slow and stately wins the race.”
Recalling his youth (his shallot days), he would often speak fondly of President John F. Kennedy, whom he described as “head and shoulders above water,” and “not just a flash in the can.” He was proud to say that he supported the man long before everyone else jumped on the bandstand.
Grandpa was a real culture mulcher. He loved movies that kept him on the edge of his teeth, but hated ones that fell apart at the scenes. And when he loved a song, he loved it all: hook, line and singer.
He had a knack, that man. He could kill two birds with one bush, make a mountain out of a manhole, vanish into thin ice, whip up a tempest in a teabag, and pull the wood over your eyes. He’s the only person I ever knew who could have his cake and take it, too. He kept his ear to the grindstone, his eye to the ground and his nose on the ball.
He was a hard-working man who never rode the gravy boat, but always pulled his own leg. Beggars, he asserted, can’t be cheaters; they shouldn’t act so high and dry. Just the same, he was always ready to roll out the magic carpet for company because anything that’s worth doing is worth overdoing and, anyway, a fool and his money are soon parties.
When he met his wife (“the ol’ ball ‘n’ socket”) it was love at first base. Later, though, she would eat him out of house and garden and become a milestone around his neck. He said she left a lot to be despised.
As he grew older, and the years took their toil, he freely admitted that he was no springing chicken and furthermore not longing for this world. He wasn’t trying to make a slick purse out of a sow’s ear or glide the lily; he could just reap the writing on the wall, that’s all.
And now he’s passed on. Having kissed the bucket and bidden the dust, he’s pulling up daisies at last.
Things are quiet now that he’s gone, so quiet you can hear a pin cushion. When I find myself missing him most, I remind myself that there’s no use crying over skim milk, or, for that matter, beating a deaf horse. It’s just the dark before the storm. Rome wasn’t burned in a day. I tell myself these things and I start to feel better. Guess I’m just a chip off the old shoulder after all.
#BananaPantsCrazy. -jv
Hahahaha. Thanks, JV. I have to say, that particular piece was my absolute favourite in Banana Pants Crazy.
I love me some clichés and anti-clichés. Great article!
Thanks, Gretch. Glad you enjoyed it.
Life without Taco Bell? Nope, couldn’t do it. Great article!
Hahahahahaha. I was hoping someone would comment on Australia’s lack of Taco Bell. I’m so glad you did. :) One of my life’s ambitions is to try Taco Bell, just so I know what I’m missing.
(Any UnCon attendees who want to help me make that dream a reality will earn my eternal gratitude.)
Thank you, thank you, and thank you for this Jo! I seriously JUST posted cliche angst on WU a few days ago, and this truly helped. I struggle much in the same way Lyn Alexander described above, and it’s slowing me down to a turtle pace. Well, that’s one of my excuses anyway. In any case…very much appreciated.
I’m so glad you read this, Ellen, and found it useful! I’ve been playing with writing about cliches as a topic for the last few months, but it was actually your post on WU that prompted me to bite the bullet (ha!) and write it for this month.
Good luck, and may the cliches be with you.
Enjoyed this post, Jo! I breath a sigh of relief (ouch, a cliche) that I can use them some of the time. Just an eensey weensey bit.
Glad you enjoyed it, Carol!
Great article. I think just being conscious of cliché use is a start. Too often we use them without even realising because they’re so commonplace. Sometimes they serve a purpose…oops there’s one 😊
Great points! “Clichés are the McDonald’s of language” pretty well nails it for me. As with all writing advice, “avoid cliches” is only sometimes/mostly true. :)
Thanks for the great post, Jo. I try hard not to employ cliches other than in dialogue. In life, people use cliches all the time, and many times those groaners can provide insight into a character. At least, that’s what I’ve found. I love the idea of anti-cliches, BTW!