The use of literary devices has been as ubiquitous to communication and society as language, itself. Unlike dynamic speech, however, writing affords us the luxury of premeditation. Words become tools – each with its own, precise purpose, but many possessing the ability to suffice for a multitude of uses. This new perspective provides the stage upon which our words take up the roles of politicians debating for their own selection as the perfect word for the job.

Just as politicians might bend truths and spin stories in order to put their best foot forward, a word’s own meanings begin to shimmer to and fro, attempting to settle cleanly upon a definition either so harmonic so as to be the obvious best choice, or so cleverly worded so as to shine brightly with so much double entendre that it becomes a metaphor in its own right.

This dynamic dance, like a well-orchestrated knife fight between rival gang members of a 1950s musical, has a way of stoking emotion and helping to spice-up an otherwise dryly-worded piece. It’s during this phase of writing that the words almost take on a life of their own, each vying desperately against the other to be chosen. It is this phase that acts as heroine, flowing sluggishly through the writer’s veins, whose absence continues to pull the author back for just one more fix.