"He arranged his dignity around him with a few carefully placed licks." (a cat)
"His face was grooved like a winter road."
"He tipped his chin up and smiled at one and all, chattering like a baby bird - but he listened like an empty well."
"He moved like a jumping jack that was strung too loosely, so that he seemed about to turn a flip or clatter into a pile of bones and string."
"The white coat bleached him further, made him look like a painting that had half washed away."
I am reading Plain Kate by Erin Bow, and enjoying her turns of phrase as much as the story itself. Her words conjure up very clear images, and the book reads like you're listening to an old storyteller.
And in the little bit of writing time I've had today, I've worked out some story and gotten words on the page, but there is no music to them. Sometimes music and story come together. Sometimes... I'm thankful for revision. :)
Stop thinking and start doing
12 hours ago