Here's something kinda cool: I found out the other day that I coined a phrase.
For a writer or an editor, it's the equivalent to creating a hybrid fruit. Kinda like a durian.
For the horticulturally impaired, a durian is a weird looking, strong smelling fruit that grows in South-East Asia. It resembles a spiked American football, is brown (almost yellow when ripe), and its smell has been compared to a sewage tank. The fruit separates into five segments, after being split open. The meat of the fruit is a creamy substance surrounding the chestnut-like seeds. The edible part of the durian has been compared in taste to cheese cake, onion flavored custard, or chocolate mousse.
To me, coining a phrase is sort of like that; you take something that doesn't seem to go together and create something new and unexpected.
As odd as that sounds, I remember early in my writing career when I read a Dave Barry column about weird things people do and he invented the verb "hork" to describe the act of jamming a swizzle stick up your nostril. I've tried at various times to devise words that not only are descriptive but ones that will get by the tight-assed copy desk.
Looks like "dog whisperer" worked.
I'll keep you posted for when the word Houck becomes synonymous with "heroically wealthy literary titan."
It could happen.