We all talk the way we talk. (Truisms are free here.) It's easy to write the way we talk, too. The problem is that the way we talk is filled with old idioms, worn-out figures of speech, trite metaphors, and predictable interjections. It's a useful shorthand for communicating quickly and clearly with those who share our own culture. But it's horrible for good literature.
This fight is one of my hardest—the effort to keep cliche out of my writing. It takes real thought to turn a phrase in a new and interesting way, to avoid having one's prose devolve into a series of uninteresting expressions and comparisons.
Sometimes, I do pull great prose out of the hat (or from other orifices, as the case may be). There are even times when I read back over a scene and actually pump a fist in the air, secure in the knowledge that I 've nailed it. And once in awhile, those scenes just spring forth fully formed from the consciousness; they seem to leap onto the page and the words have a life of their own, and these are the times when writing is a transcendent experience.
Most of the time, though, not being trite is a chore. I often don't want to use my first phrasing, or even my second, but my third or fourth way of expressing an idea. This process is very anti-NaNoWriMo, where rapid output is most highly praised. It's one of the main reasons I'm about 1,000 words behind quota right now.
I know, I know, December is for rewrites. And I'll do a lot of that. Just please excuse the cliches, December editor self. They seemed like the way to go at the time. And at least they were forward progress.