This is the water treading exercise I went through during the development of a story from my upcoming "Testosterone Chronicles - Love Wars" collection.
My sweet wife, also known as "Yes Dear" has the unfortunate job of reading my stories in draft form. It works like this.
Yes Dear picks up the pages of a story draft and I watch her face as she reads. I count the number of smiles and the number of frowns to get a real-time readout on how she is reacting to the story. I try to ignore the scowls, sneers, gagging sounds and the occasional pounding-of-head-on-the-desktop thing she does and basically go with the smile/frown ratio.
She knows that I ascribe to the belief, one shared by men the world over, that if a little of something is good, then way to much of it is "better." Such is true of my life-long love of the metaphor.
"Death by metaphor," she said, laying down the final page. "You have taken the one literary instrument that sings its soft musical accompaniment to the silent cold black prose of life and made it a front row seat at a Def Leopard concert. You have taken this delicate tool, one use with restraint and subtlety by the legends of verse to enhance western literature, and swung it like a pole-ax to-the-forehead of your reader/victims. You have taken the one figure of speech that brings life and passion to the great love sonnets and used it like a Salem Witches dunking seat to drown your audience.
"So you liked it?" I interrupted her.
"Hey, I was on a roll there", Yes Dear protested as she came down off her high horse. "I could see that. That's why I interrupted you. What's the bottom line?" I asked
"I'll have to think about it," she said with uncharacteristic evasion.
"I know what's bugging you about the story," I said, suddenly seeing the light. "It's got those parts in it about my love life before I met you and that's why you are torqued."
Batting her big blue eyes at me she replied, "Sweetie, I already know the story of your love life before you met me. It was a short poem. One that begins with "There once was a girl from Nantucket..."