A Thousand Ways to Walk

One of the things I spend my time thinking about as a writer are synonyms. And not just synonyms, but powerful ones. Powerful, accurate, and descriptive are what I look for in both my writing and my daily life.

For example, people don't just say things. They can, but if they do it's in a normal tone of voice. If they yell things, that's a bit better--and definitely louder. They can also whisper or drone, which are a little bit better.

Take laughing for example. You can laugh, but you can also chuckle, titter, giggle, and bray. You can honk. Depending on the mood and the character, you can define someone's entire personality by the way they laugh.

One of my favorite things to do in the daytime while I am suffering from writing withdrawals is to describe my own walk, and the walk of people around me. There are so many different words for "walk", I probably can't even list them all. I might be tromping through the snow, meandering across the mall, hurrying to class, strolling through a park, or traipsing about in the wilderness. I can glide gracefully, skip merrily, and trudge unhappily to a test. People can stomp, stagger, stride and saunter. We can pace, hike, amble, and march. Toddlers can toddle, the elderly can shuffle, the wounded can limp, the young can spring. We can hobble, trundle, shamble, bounce, wander, and mosey. We can even merely run or jog.

Kind of makes you re-think the awe we hold for Eskimos. What's a hundred words for snow compared to a thousand ways to simply walk?

In my book, you never "simply" walk.