"Welcome to Planet Cliché." My companion pointed to a girl floating overhead. "Twenty six times she used the phrase 'light as a feather', and that was in the first chapter alone."
A green man walked by.
"Let me guess," I said. "Green with envy?"
My companion nodded and started thumbing through my novel.
I gulped. Thankfully, I'd edited out every frightened to death, every gut wrenching pain.
However, as cats and dogs began to rain down, I wondered if there was any hope for a would-be writer surviving Planet Cliché. I'll keep my fingers crossed.
Oops! Shouldn't have said that.
