Syllables Are My Kryptonite

Every writer has a weakness.  For fiction writers, it could be lackluster dialogue or flat character descriptions.  For memoirists, it could be fuzzy chronology.  My poetic weakness is syllables.

Ever since I was a speck of a child, words entranced me.  I loved the sounds, the meaning, the look of certain words.  My mom says I never just said ONE word, I had to say two… minimum.  Some chalk it up to being a female (which is a stereotype), but it’s just because I love language.

I can’t count a word’s different parts. Maybe it’s my innate dislike for mathematics, but syllables trip me up unless it’s the easiest word in creation (and even then, don’t bet on it).  I add more syllables than there should be to almost all of them.

Take the word “dropped”.  One syllable.  My brain sees it as two:  Dropp-ed.  I tend to stay away from sonnets and other forms of poetry that require syllable-counts because this strange linguistic addition always leads me to the wrong amount needed for correct compositions.  It’s frustrating.

I tend to use syllable-calculators (yes, they exist) when I feel the need to create something with metered lines.  It makes me feel like a bit of a fraud, to be honest.  I’m mostly compelled to write free-verse poems, so it isn’t that much of an issue.  Over the years, I have made a type of uneasy peace with my incompetence.  (Just as a side note:  I have tried every device out there taught in elementary schools, it doesn’t help.  I will add extra claps regardless, by Gods!)

What is your writing weakness?  How do you compensate?