Writers, do you keep a pretty-word file?
Sometimes a description hits the spot exactly. When that happens in a novel I’m reading, I often go back, re-read, and savor the pretty words.
I play word games by myself all day long. If I see/hear/smell/taste/touch something, I often try to come up with the best words to describe whatever it was I heard/smelled/tasted/touched. (Truly, there is silly, crazy, word-loving madness in my brain.)
Here are some tidbits that may find their way into my fiction:
It's so windy in Denver today. Grit is flying through the air, and tumbleweeds are bouncing across the street like giant, soiled cotton balls.
Pondering one of life's mysteries—like why we meticulously iron anything made of linen.
The world is turning a soft shade of gold here in Colorado. Today as I drove down my street, burnished leaves floated around my car and danced across the road.
Windy, windy, windy! Pounding the house and whistling down the chimney. Feels like an uninvited guest just showed up.
Just peeked outside to see winter's cold glare glancing my way. It looks like snow's about to fall.
I love the way the autumn light slips through the leaves of my maple tree and dances across my wall.
The garbage man just went down our street tossing trashcans on their sides here and there like a grumpy toddler pitching a tantrum.
A delicate dusting of snow lay on what appeared to be a Victorian city. The sparkling white powder looked like confectioner's sugar passed through a sieve and sprinkled over the world.
I keep a file of pretty words and occasionally look through them and select one for a scene. Right now I'm thinking how my character will be ironing one day and wonder why she's so meticulous about ironing linen . . .