From Joel Stickleys blog at writebadlywell.blogspot.com:
Always use a Thesaurus
She manipulated the garment in a cogitative mode.
‘Hmm,’ she vocalised. ‘This attire is verifiably marvellous. What is it constituted from?’
‘From the most meritorious velveteen,’ defined her interlocutor, simpering coincidentally.
‘Is it?’ iterated the party of the first part. ‘That’s felicitous.’
‘Additionally, this specified object has the property of being subdivided in terms of its defining mercantile characteristic, and can be taken possession of for the diminutive quantity of merely a half-dozen currency units,’ the retail employee informed.
‘Exoneration?’ supplicated the protagonist appropriately. The commercial tertiary sector worker eyeballed her perspicaciously.
‘I said it’s five ninety-nine. Do you want it or not?
Write thinly-veiled self-aggrandising autobiographical fiction
Joe Stockley paced the floor of his office and cursed under his breath. Dammit, he thought, why am I such a brilliant writer that no-one ever understands the depth and complexity of my work? It’s almost as if I’m the only real person in the world and all the other people are just automatons! No, that can’t be (he thought). Can it...?
Just then, he was interrupted by the ringing of his top of the range iPhone 3GS (32GB).
‘Hello?’ he said, his voice booming with a timbre which was capable of simultaneously charming his many admirers and intimidating any who dared oppose him.
‘Hello Joe,’ a mellifluous voice came floating back. ‘It’s your loving wife here.’
‘Hello, my beautiful-beyond-compare, talented and intelligent wife,’ said Joe, his laughter reverberating around the expensive fixtures and fittings of his luxurious house.
Use as many adjectives as you can
He slowly walked the slow, winding path towards the crooked, run-down old house. With one slow, hesitant hand he bravely, resolutely knocked on the dusty, pock-marked, ancient and frightening door. Slowly, it opened slowly. He slowly poked his brave head through the narrow, foreboding gap.
‘Hello?’ he slowly said, bravely.
Just then, suddenly (yet strangely slowly), a terrifying, scary, bone-chilling, face-tingling, stupefyingly mortifying and stultifying, yet oddly inconsequential and subtly fragrant, big, massive, enormous multi-hued, monochrome monstrosity of epic, legendary, massive, indescribable proportions burst thunderingly from the shadowy, ill-defined, hazy, portentous, generically appropriate yet obviously underdeveloped and self-evidently over-described dark, dark darkness.
‘RAAAAAAH!’ it said.
Describing every character in minute detail, mixing tenses, changing sentence structure to fit your rhyme scheme, starting your novel with your main character getting out of bed in the morning and creating sub plots that bear no relation to the main one.
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