Here are some more things you need to stop writing, saying, even thinking. Don’t ever think of these words again.

Craning a Neck: As in “The man craned his neck to get a better view of the crack of his plumber’s tender bottom.” Is a crane the only animal you can think of for this metaphor? Is the crane the only animal we can ever use? Can a plumber have a tender bottom?

Using “Super” as an adverb: I don’t care that you were “super-excited” to hear about the new gym opening up in town, and I don’t want to hear how “super-sorry” you are that I didn’t get the job. Using super as an adverb makes you sound super-stupid. Just use ‘fucking.’ It sounds more American.

Using the word “Uber”: See above.

That Being Said: This one’s a gem. “I’m not going to give your proposal my endorsement; that being said, I’m still willing to listen to your ideas in the future.” Can’t you just say “however” or “nevertheless” or something else besides “that being said”? If you’re using this in your fiction, you’re going to force future linguists to label us “dumbasses.” If you must use it, try “You’re an idiot; that being said, I just called you an idiot.”

Voracious Readers: The only kind of habitual reader, apparently, is a voracious one. When you use “voracious,” I think you are lazy and that your brain is asleep. Instead say: I tried my best to get along with him, but he’s a voracious asshole. Stop typecasting voracious.

Naming Your Child Liam: My cousin named her beautiful son Liam; my neighbors around the corner, the only ones my wife and I feel truly comfortable around, have a little boy named Liam. That’s it. No more. Don’t pick Jack, David, or Ben either.

Being At Work on Your First Novel: As in “Susan Morgan Frederickson-Smith writes and sips jasmine tea in her studio on the southern coast of Maine. She’s at work on her first novel…” Yeah, yeah, yeah. Honey, we’re all at work on our first novel.