So...its been a while. Enjoy the latest chapter. As always, I will accept any and all criticism.


Hope fidgeted as he sat in his chair at the beginning of class. Mr. Greenshaw's Writing and Grammar was the last class of the day, and he was itching to leave. Just forty-five minutes left until sweet, sweet freedom.

Mr. Greenshaw, resplendent in his grey suit and red tie, rapped his pointer on the board. It read:

Lavender Unicorn Syndrome

But it was otherwise blank.

"So," Mr. Greenshaw began. "Lavender. Unicorn. Syndrome." He spat the words out like they tasted foul.

"Miss Caroline," he ordered, "please remind the class of one of the fundamentals of writing we discussed at the start of the semester. The second one."

Sally Caroline, a short young lady with bright red hair, nervously stated, "Er, avoid repetition?"

Mr. Greenshaw twitched. "Was that an answer or a question, young lady?"

"An...answer?" she replied hesitantly.

"Kids these days," he muttered under his breath. "Yes, very good," he said at a normal volume. "Repetition makes your writing stale and uninteresting! No one likes to read the same descriptions and names again and again. Mr. Estheim!"

Hope gave a brief shudder before responding. "Yes, sir?"

"When I read the utter travesty that you passed off as a literary narrative, one of the few points it earned was the lack of repetition. Is this correct?"

The pale-haired student flushed. "Yes," he squeaked.

The easily-angered teacher took out a folder from his desk, and from that pulled out a familiar paper. The aspiring writer-student cringed and sank lower into his seat.

"This foul crime," bellowed the man in the grey suit. "This blasphemy against all that is good in the world, is a classic example of Lavender Unicorn Syndrome!"

No one in the class dared laugh at the indignity of a fifty-or-so man screaming unicorn.

"Just because you seek to avoid word repetition," yelled the shouting teacher, "does not mean you must substitute each mention of their name with an irrelevant descriptive phrase! Am I clear?"

The class collectively muttered their assent.

He continued, "This can be disorienting and more than a little annoying. This creates a distance between the reader and the character—while this may be a short leap, it is enough to distract from any character interaction taking place, especially in the midst of heavy dialogue. If a character has a name, call them by it as much as possible."

Mr. Greenshaw swiped his pointed across the classroom's digital screen, and it changed. Now it read:


Walking along the road one day, Eve came across her friend Sarah. The bookish woman smiled and complimented Cocoon's premiere socialite on the success of her most recent party.

"Thanks, Eve!" said the pinked-haired lady. "I'm just glad everyone enjoyed themselves!"

"We sure did!" exclaimed Professor Janice's personal protégé.


"Obnoxious prose," said Mr. Greenshaw. "Unnecessary words that are almost painful to read. This is a classic example of how not to write properly. Who can tell me what was wrong with this passage?"

Hope raised his hand. "Irrelevance."

Mr. Greenshaw nodded. "Yes. We do not need to know who is teaching Eve in that passage, nor the state of Sarah's hair."

He swiped the board again. Now it read:


Walking along the road one day, Eve came across her friend Sarah. Eve smiled and complimented her on the success of her most recent party.

"Thanks, Eve!" said Sarah. "I'm just glad everyone enjoyed themselves!"

"We sure did!" exclaimed Eve.


"No descriptive phrases," said Mr. Greenshaw. "No unnecessary words. Clear, and much less annoying." He swiped the board again.


Sarah walked down the street on her carefree way. The people of the Third District smiled and waved at Sarah, and Sarah smiled back at them.

"Hello, Sarah!" said Eve.

"Hi, Eve!" Sarah replied. "Isn't it a beautiful morning?"

"Well, it's certainly…um…sunny, Sarah," Eve replied.


Hope was confused. Repetition was bad. This Syndrome was bad. What was he to do?

Mr. Greenshaw said, "Names are mostly invisible in prose, but you can still overuse them. If you find yourself repeating too many names, the answer is not to succumb to LUS. Instead, try to replace as many names as possible with pronouns."

He began to tap on various names on the board. Each time he did so, the name was replaced by an appropriate pronoun. Now the board read:


Sarah walked down the street on her carefree way. The people of the Third District smiled and waved at her, and she smiled back at them.

"Hello, Sarah!" said Eve.

"Hi, Eve!" Sarah replied. "Isn't it a beautiful morning?"

"Well, it's certainly…um…sunny, Sarah," the diligent student replied.


Mr. Greenshaw smirked. "Annoying, isn't it? This kind of whiplash can seriously damage the tension in, say, an action sequence or some tense exchange."

He tapped "the dilligent student," and it changed into "Eve."

"As you can see," announced Mr. Greenshaw, "sometimes, the problem can persist. You can often finish off the beast by removing obvious speaker attributions and addresses."

He tapped the board one more time.


Sarah walked down the street on her carefree way. The people of the Third District smiled and waved at her, and she smiled back at them.

"Hello, Sarah!" said Eve.

"Hi, Eve!" Sarah replied. "Isn't it a beautiful morning?"

"Well, it's certainly…um…sunny, Sarah."


"A lot of times," said Mr. Greenshaw, "What appears to be name overuse is actually repetitive sentence structure. Descriptive phrases will only address a symptom of the disease, akin to cleaning your room by tossing your junk under the bed."

A student raised his hand. "But, Mr. Greenshaw, aren't there some times where it's okay to use descriptions instead of a name or pronoun?"

"Very good, Mr. Wallcroft. Not every word or phrase that isn't a name or a pronoun is an example of LUS – it's all about context."

He glared into a seemingly random direction, looking at an invisible audience. "For example, if I was in a work of some sort, and I was a teacher, it would be alright to refer to me as 'the teacher,' but again, context. If the fact that I was a teacher was unrelated the rest of the passage, it becomes flowery and distracting."

He paused to drink from a bottle of water. "I stated before that descriptions can distance the reader from the characters. Sometimes, this is what you want to do. A short description can remove the reader from their intimate engagement with the story, and have them look at the big picture for a moment. He tapped the board.


"Almost...there..." Daniel grunted as he struggled to pull himself the few remaining feet of the mountain, and with much effort, he lifted himself onto its summit. He collapsed into a panting heap.

After recovering his breath, he looked up. "Woah..."

The little boy gazed in wonder at the vast expanse of land that spread out before and below him. He gazed in wonder at valleys, forests, streams and lakes, at farms, towns and cities, and at the snowcapped peaks of other mountains that lay along the horizon.


With another tap of his pointer, the board turned off, and the class could sense the incoming ring of the bell.

"A final note," said Mr. Greenshaw. "Obviously, unnamed characters must be named by descriptions. Just don't forget that named characters should be referred to by their names."

Hope glanced at the clock. There were only a few minutes remaining.

Mr. Greenshaw silently walked back to his desk, and reclined in his seat. "You've all seemed to understand the lesson, and it is a beautiful day..." The teacher sighed. "Class dismissed. No homework. Enjoy your early release."

As the class gaped, the bell rang.


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