It’s easy to write “coded” phrases – things that may mean something to you, and just you. While this may be fun for you to read back to yourself, your reader will likely scratch her head in puzzlement and toss the book down before reading your next piece. The line between metaphor and coded phrases is a sharper one than you think. Many readers will “get” a good metaphor, and only one will get a coded phrase – you. All right, maybe one or two others whom you told ahead of time. A good example might be Emily Dickinson’s last four lines from “If I Shouldn’t Be Alive”:

If I shouldn’t thank you
Being fast asleep
You will know I’m trying
With my granite lip!

It is easy to “get” that her “granite lip” is her headstone. If it had read instead (it did not, thank goodness),

If I shouldn’t thank you
Being fast asleep
I shall be nudging
That gray stone from the leap!

How would we know that she had an uncle who had wanted to leap over a cliff onto a rocky shore after his mate died (she almost certainly did not)? How would we know that she wanted to move one of those rocks over to make room for herself? And what would all that mean, anyway! “Direct is good.” At least direct talk is readable.

I picked up this excellent paragraph from writer Stephen Dobyns (Velocities) in a foreword to another poetry book:

“…Hiding in the dreary background is some would-be poet saying, “Language doesn’t really communicate. Authorial intention is a myth of the past. Communication is passé. Accessibility in poetry means failure. Meaning and non-meaning are equal….”

Wow! Amen!

Further along, Mr. Dobyns’ smacks the major point of these style tips right on the head, and is the end to which all writers should aspire:

“….A poet may be many things, but her or she must also be an entertainer.”

Good heavens, yes, unless total book sales are expected to equal two. That second book will be bought by the writer’s mother, but that’s quite all right.

Choosing the precise word is your main concern, be it fiction, nonfiction, or poetry. As an author, you get paid for your choice of words that express exactly what you have in mind. This also means excluding words which denote or connote something else. Work at being precise harder than anything else you do, once you select your subject and theme. Most times this means your final work will be shortened.
This is why writing is called “work.”

Anglo-Saxon speech is Germanic-Teutonic at its core. Latin got added later in bulk by way of William of Normandy after 1066 C.E., but the German roots stayed rooted. Half of English is still Germanic. Likely William did not care much for Angle-Land after he got it, and cared less for the sturdy folk living there. Live and let live. Anglo-Saxon speech hits hard and straight, as those words used day to day by “real men and women.” Meanings are blunt, words sing and shout, and can be quite colorful. If you want to speak clearly and loudly when you write, think Anglo-Saxon -- such as these last 96 words (except “Anglo-Saxon,” “German,” “stay” and “Latin”! I think). Also, note that the man’s name was William of Normandy, not Guillaume of Normandy.

Look at these famous lines, and the Germanic-type words used:

“Listen my children and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere…”

“We have nothing to fear, but fear itself…”

“Ask not what your country can do for you…”

“I still have a dream..."

“I smoked, but did not inhale…” [all right, give him a break – “inhale” is Caesar’s language]