How many cliches can you pack into one essay?<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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In the best of all possible worlds, writers should avoid clich\u00e9s like the plague. But beggars can\u2019t be choosers.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

With all due respect, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Between you and me and the gatepost, a writer had better be safe than sorry. Our actions speak louder than words.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

On the other hand, it goes without saying that, for better or worse, sometimes we can\u2019t see the forest for the trees, and the left hand doesn\u2019t know what the right hand is doing. Then we have to let the chips fall where they may since we can\u2019t have our cake and eat it, too.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In other words, we have to fish or cut bait. One has to have both feet firmly planted on the ground to see the handwriting on the wall and proclaim, \u201cDo as I say, not as I do.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That\u2019s the way the cookie crumbles, I suppose. We have to take the bitter with the sweet and overcome a lot of adversity. It\u2019s an uphill battle because the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Not to beat a dead horse, but sometimes we bite off more than we can chew. We find that we can\u2019t be all things to all people, and we have to go back to the drawing board and try to make heads or tails out of it.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

If worse comes to worst, we can always take it like a man and hope we come up smelling like a rose.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But that\u2019s putting the cart before the horse. In the long run, if we burn the candle at both ends, seize the bull by the horns, call a spade a spade, and dot the i\u2019s and cross the t\u2019s, there is not a ghost of a chance that our stories will be as dull as dishwater.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Remember, the early bird catches the worm.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

However, if we get up on the wrong side of the bed and become satisfied that half a loaf is better than none, we are in danger of jumping out of the frying pan into the fire and turning out copy that isn\u2019t worth a hill of beans.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Instead, we need to go whole hog and fall head over heels in love with the Mother Tongue. My English teacher would turn over in her grave, if she had bitten the dust, at the way good writing is dead as a doornail these days.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s enough to drive a teacher up the wall. It certainly isn\u2019t a case of the blind leading the blind. They sweat blood, but when all is said and done, you can lead a horse to water, but you can\u2019t make him drink. You can\u2019t make a silk purse out of a sow\u2019s ear, and you can\u2019t judge a book by its cover.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

By the same token, you can\u2019t teach an old dog new tricks, and that comes straight from the horse\u2019s mouth. It\u2019s six of one, half-dozen of another.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

What really rubs me the wrong way\u2014and let\u2019s not beat around the bush about it\u2014is the way some writers become too big for their britches and add insult to injury at the drop of a hat by an easy-come, easy-go attitude.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Well, I wasn\u2019t born yesterday. The bigger they come, the harder they fall. That\u2019s the way the ball bounces.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

How do you like them apples?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

There\u2019s an unwritten rule for most writers that it\u2019s either feast or famine. We\u2019re all in the same boat. Either an article is an albatross around the neck, or we can write until the cows come home. Sometimes we can\u2019t squeeze blood from a turnip, and other times when it rains, it pours.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

At times like that we don\u2019t look a gift horse in the mouth or cut off our nose to spite our face because some day we know the chickens will come home to roost and we\u2019ll be barking up the wrong tree.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We\u2019ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it, if we don\u2019t burn our bridges behind us.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

That\u2019s a horse of a different color, and I wouldn\u2019t touch it with a ten-foot pole. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

The bottom line in writing is, don\u2019t count your chickens before they\u2019re hatched. It\u2019s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and we have to turn over a new leaf and play our cards right if we expect to hit the nail on the head through thick and thin.         <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s a whole new ball game these days, and we need a shot in the arm if we expect to come full circle and pull ourselves up by our bootstraps between the devil and the deep blue sea.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Speaking of the devil, you took the words right out of my mouth. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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