Ann Kroeker, Writing Coach

When I was a child just beginning to speak, my parents drove late into the evening to the rural property they bought. As they drove up the gravel driveway, the sky spread out above us with stars glittering like a million diamonds spread out on a jeweler’s vast black velvet display. Across the fields, a million lightning bugs hovered in the tall grass, their gleaming bodies flickering on and off. I pointed at the sky. “’Tars!” Then I pointed at the field. “Baby ’tars!” Perhaps I was destined to become a poet from early on, but my confidence in landing on that perfect metaphor virtually disappeared over the years. As a young adult, when I was writing books and blog posts, I rarely integrated metaphors into my writing, and it showed. My work was straightforward. Plainspoken.  While there’s nothing wrong with clear writing—in fact, that’s the foundation of nonfiction according to Ayn Rand (clarity first, then jazziness, she says1)—it lacked punch and pizzazz. My writing didn’t lift off the page