I am happy to report that Immune System remained in compliance with the administration long enough for me to hook up with my old buddies back home. Just don’t ask about Immune System’s horribly rebellious attitude since the meet-up.
*cough, cough*
I thought it would be a good idea to take a few minutes away from dying (what? being sick turns me into a drama queen–deal with it) to blog about something I have been thinking about a lot lately: hammers.
And screwdrivers (the tool, people–I don’t drink). And wrenches. And saws. And really any other tool under the sun. All the tools I have listed so far are great tools for a construction worker or a DIYer. Not so much for me, unless I am looking for tools that could possibly send me to the hospital. I let Bubba deal with things that have to potential of helping me hurt myself.
My tools are different than those of a construction worker. The mighty tools I wield are words.
As writers, we need to be conscious of word choice, and how poor word choice can completely change the meaning of what we are saying. Words are all we have to tell our stories, show our meanings, paint our pictures. Each and every word used is important. Each and every word should be chosen with great care.
Think before you write. Choose your words carefully.
I will now resume the dying.
*cough, cough*
One Comment
Well said, my moribund friend. Or should I say well written? Word choice is confusing.