Category: Editor’s Desk (Page 5 of 6)

This article continues two earlier posts: Wordiness Is Not a Style – Part 1, and Wordiness Is Not a Style – Part 2.  If you haven’t yet read those preliminary articles, please do so before continuing here.

Okay, so here’s the part a few people have been anxiously awaiting: practical examples.

Triggers: Specific Phrases that Often Lead to Wordiness

These seven items are some of the most common Wordiness Triggers I see when I edit.

1. There were / There was
1. Bad: There were stars shining….
2. Good: Stars shined….
2. Gave a/an
1. Bad: John gave a short laugh….
2. Good: John laughed….
3. It was [blank] that
1. Bad: It was the dog that ate it….
2. Good: The dog ate it….
4. There was a [blank] that
1. Bad: There was a cat that scratched….
2. Good: A cat scratched….
5. Found himself / To find himself / Found that
1. Bad: He found himself lying in a ditch….
2. Good: He lay in a ditch….
3. Bad: He awoke to find himself soaked in sweat….
4. Good: He awoke soaked in sweat….
5. Bad: He found that he’d been sleeping….
6. Good: He’d been sleeping….
6. In what they were / Of what they were
1. Bad: The humor in what they were singing was….
2. Good: The humor of their song was….
7. I’ve got / He’s got / They’ve got / Etc
1. Bad: I’ve got a terrible headache….
2. Good: I have a terrible headache….

EXAMPLES:

Now, let’s review a series of specific examples from pieces I’ve edited or reviewed.  As always, I shall keep confidential the authors’ names and story titles to protect the not-so-innocent.  

BAD: There was screaming, and it pierced my ears like needles of ice.  NOTE: “There was” is one of our classic triggers.  GOOD (Simple): Screams pierced my ears like needles of ice.

BAD: There were men attacking the village, and through their actions of burning cottages, the forest itself began to flame.  NOTE: First, “There were” is one of our classic triggers.  Second, a phrase such as “through their actions of” is a major red flag.  Third, why say “the forest itself” when a simple “the forest” will suffice?  Fourth, don’t provide an action that only “began to” do anything, unless you intend to interrupt that action before it’s complete.  GOOD (Simple): Men attacked the village and burned cottages, and the surrounding forest soon flamed.  GOOD (Detailed): Men attacked the village and burned cottages, and the flames leapt from cottage to stable, from stable to field, from field to trees, until they cast the surrounding forest ablaze.

BAD: I’m hopeful that I’ll find something.  NOTE: The red flag here is “hopeful that.”  GOOD (Simple): I hope I’ll find something.

BAD: The few remaining cars are nothing more than burned out shells sitting on bare steel rims where tires once were.  NOTE: First, the phrase “are nothing more than” raises a red flag.  Second, the final four words are utterly redundant.  After all, everyone knows what purpose the steel rims serve.  This is no less intrusive and insulting than telling a reader “water is wet.”  GOOD (Simple): The few remaining cars, mere burned-out shells, sat on bare steel rims.

BAD: As in all wars, each nation involved believes that the fight will bring improvement in some way; each combatant seeks to gain something, or at least keep all or some of what it already has.  NOTE: The first nine words drag out the start of that sentence.  Second, I’m always suspicious of phrases like “in some way.”  Third, consider the phrase “all or some of.”  Yikes!  Why even mention it?  After all, what else is there?  GOOD (Simple): All nations involved in war believe the fight will bring some improvement; each combatant seeks to gain something, or at least to keep what is already theirs.  GOOD (Detailed): All nations involved in war believe the fight will bring some improvement; each combatant seeks to gain something, or at least to preserve their treasure, their families, their way of life.

BAD: His tone became less harsh as he spoke to the child.  NOTE: Beware of anyone that “becomes” anything.  Slap the writer’s wrench around that thing and tighten it up.  GOOD (Simple): His tone softened as he spoke to the child.  GOOD (Simple): He spoke to the child in soft tones.

BAD: With an open hand, he pushed Steve backward toward the sunlit stream from which the people of Centerville obtained their water.  Steve found himself setting among the summer brambles that grew there.  NOTE: Hmmm… is “with an open hand” truly necessary?  Does it add anything?  What of the word “sunlit” in this case—how is it germane to the fact they get their water from that stream?  Details are great, provided they’re also relevant.  If this detail supplements others, then fine; if not, kill it.  As for the second sentence, beware characters who “find themselves” doing anything.  The Nike marketing folks had it right.  “Just do it!”  They didn’t say, “Just find yourself doing it!”  Finally, if the summer brambles didn’t grow there, how would they have gotten there?  Please don’t state the ridiculously obvious.  GOOD (Simple): He pushed Steve backward toward the stream from which the people of Centerville obtained their water.  Steve fell into a patch of summer brambles.

BAD: Their eyes and minds work furiously as they attempt to discern her purpose.  NOTE: Why else would they “work furiously,” except to “attempt” to do something?  GOOD (Simple): Their eyes and minds work furiously to discern her purpose.

BAD: From where he stood, he saw her fog-colored hair that moved with the breeze.  NOTE: All right, now those first four words are just silly.  Would that be as opposed to some sort of out of body experience—from where he didn’t stand?  Also, “that moved” is too much here.  NOT SO GOOD (Simple): He saw her fog-colored hair move with the breeze.  GOOD (Show; Don’t Tell.): Her fog-colored hair bounced with the breeze and assaulted her head in a gray swarm.

BAD: He should have a place to rest through eternity where she might visit him often while she lived, and she would bring flowers.  NOTE: We’re getting silly again.  First, would that be as opposed to having NO PLACE to rest, WHERE she might VISIT him often?  Second, would that be as opposed to her visiting him while she’s dead?  GOOD (Simple): He should rest through eternity where she might visit him often, and she would bring flowers.

BAD: A blanket of mist clung to the ground as Mary and John found their way.  They threaded the rows of graves.  NOTE: First, “found their way” raises a red flag.  Second, the two short sentences provide a choppy feel.  GOOD (Simple): A blanket of mist clung to the ground as Mary and John threaded the rows of graves.

BAD: When his controlling progressed to violence, and he started hitting her, she hid it from everyone.  NOTE: To first say, “his controlling progressed to violence,” and then to say, “and he started hitting her,” is to say the same thing twice, in two different ways.  GOOD (Simple): When his controlling progressed to violence, she hid it from everyone.  GOOD (Detailed): When he moved beyond simple controlling and started pushing her, slapping her, punching her, she hid it from everyone.

Well, that should be enough for now—plenty to think about as you don the self-editing cap and return to your manuscript.  Remember: Pith is not your enemy; it is your friend.  Pith will not preclude you from writing high prose; indeed, it will aid you in that endeavor.

Always adhere to this High Commandment of professional writing: Make Every Word Count.

‘Til next time, and as always, remember: To write well, you must work hard.  To succeed in this tough gig, you mustn’t be lazy (or discouraged).

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This article continues an earlier post entitled, Wordiness Is Not a Style – Part 1.  If you haven’t yet read the first article, please do so before continuing here.

I focus this post on one of the High Commandments of writing: Make Every Word Count.  If you’ve been studying this craft, through creative writing courses or any of the hundreds of books on writing, you’ve already seen this admonition many times.  Indeed, ghosts of Writing Instructors Past probably sound the drumbeat in your subconscious every night whilst you dream of cannibals stalking you through the jungle.

Yet for most writers, wordiness remains an anchor on the ship of prose.

Why is “Make Every Word Count” such a critical commandment?  It’s simple: words are money.  For print publishers, a higher word count equals more printing.  For electronic publishers, a higher word count means more server space and/or bandwidth.  For readers, a higher word count means more of their precious time is required to complete the piece.  Please, Dear Writer, show a little respect for those who support your business.

On top of everything else, wordiness is just plain bad, lazy, dull writing.  It typically revolves around what I call “The 3 R’s of Wordiness.”

Redundancy: Not only is this boring and unnecessary, it’s rather insulting.  When you tell a reader the exact same thing in two or three different ways, she may respond by saying, “Geez, what is it with this author?  Does he think I’m an idiot?  I get it, already.”

Repetition: This signals the reader that you’re running out of things to say, so you just say the same thing over and over.  Gee whiz, that makes for an exciting read.

Rambling: When you run on and on and on, the reader knows that you’re lazy, at best, disrespectful of her time and energy, or that, at worst… well, that you shouldn’t quit your day job.

We writers often fail to recognize wordiness when we see it.  We so focus on this sentence, this word, that we’ve already forgotten the last sentence.  Is it any wonder, then, that we fall victim to The 3 R’s?  Additionally, our writing tracks with our speech mannerisms.  Yikes!  When’s the last time you heard someone utter a gem such as this: “Like, have you guys like seen that like totally amazing movie about like androids and robots and stuff?  It’s like, you know, so totally awesome that like, whatever, it’s just cool and like totally awesome.”

Okay, so maybe you’re not that bad.  The point is that our speech leans heavily toward the lazy, improper, garbled, repetitive and disjointed.  Your writing must not.  Even if you speak as though you stayed awake in high school English, and you have an IQ over 73, you still allow nagging “errors” to creep into your speech.  We all do.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the default voice with which you write is the one with which you speak.  To break those chains, you must self-edit at the deepest possible level—every sentence, every word.  More than that, you must turn off that natural conversational voice in your head.  A funny thing will happen as your writing tightens-up and improves: so will your speech.  You will find that happy, comfortable medium.  It just takes time.

Finally, you must rely on your editor to bring objectivity and a fresh perspective, to catch what your subconscious mind allows to slip past your blinded self.

HIGH PRAISE for HIGH PROSE

Our quest for this often leads us down the path of wordiness.  Writers often seek to elevate their prose, to foment literary bliss, and I applaud the inclination; however, too many confuse quantity for quality.  Elevated prose consists not of more words, but of better words better formed.  The pithiest way of saying something may well be the most elegant, whereas the complex bag of wind can be absolute torture.

I offer this example from a piece I edited long ago.  I shall change the character names and keep confidential the author and title.  —  The inner glow of warmth and compassion Fred initially believed to live behind Barney’s gray eyes, blazed fiercely with an entirely different meaning for Betty, or so it seemed to Fred, and in Betty’s attachment to Barney, she lost the capability to manifest emotion toward anyone else.  —  Oh brother!  That bogged me down several times, but I found the final segment the most amusing—and by amusing, of course, I mean terrible.  That one 47-word sentence should be two sentences totaling 25-30 words.  I offer no alternatives because—Good grief!—the writer just needs to go back to the drawing board.  “…the capability to manifest emotion toward….”  Seriously?

Dear Writer, pith is not your enemy.  Pith is your friend.  It will not preclude you from writing high prose; indeed, it will aid you in that endeavor.  Do not confuse “pith” with “simple.”  Use moving, compelling, evocative words and phrases, of course.  But get to the point!

I believe examples offer the best method for learning to recognize and destroy wordiness—simple, repetitive exercises.  Therefore, I shall focus an upcoming article on actual examples and their preferred alternatives, providing a series of “before” (read “bad”) and “after” (read “better”).  It won’t be long—a couple of days, a week at most—so tune in again soon.

‘Til next time, and as always, remember: To write well, you must work hard.  To succeed in this tough gig, you mustn’t be lazy (or discouraged).

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