Today’s post is written by regular contributor Sarah Baughman.
I’ll give you twenty seconds to skim these paragraphs and tell me which one exhibits stronger, more engaging writing:
Paragraph A
The hottest month in Ayemenem would certainly have to be May. Each and every day is long and exceedingly humid. The river starts to dry up and black crows, which sit in trees that are a dusty-colored green, eat golden, sun-ripened mangoes. It is a time when red bananas as well as plump, yellow, odd-smelling jackfruits are starting to get significantly riper. Flies buzz around and around in the sweet-smelling air. Then, because they don’t understand what glass is, they fly right into the windows and are killed by the impact.
Paragraph B
May in Ayemenem is a hot, brooding month. The days are long and humid. The river shrinks and black crows gorge on bright mangoes in still, dustgreen trees. Red bananas ripen. Jackfruits burst. Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air. Then they stun themselves against clear windowpanes and die, fatly baffled in the sun.
Even though I wrote Paragraph A, I hope you hated it. It’s my decidedly unimpressive 91-word rewrite of Arundhati Roy’s arresting beginning to her novel The God of Small Things. Roy’s version, at 55 words, is undoubtedly cleaner, tighter, and more powerful.
A lower word count doesn’t always point to superiority, but wordiness is best avoided, and it’s the main culprit lurking behind my rewrite’s failure.
Are you wordy? Recognize the signs
Scan your writing for the following symptoms of wordiness:
- “Being” verbs. You’ll have to use them sometimes, of course, but they often slow the pace of a sentence. Compare “still, dustgreen trees” to “trees that are a dusty-colored green.” My paragraph contains seven “being verbs”; Roy’s just two. Highlight the “being” verbs on a page of your WIP and try to cut them in half.
- Passive constructions. Passive voice, which occurs when the subject of the sentence receives action rather than performing it, inevitably clogs sentences. Compare the flies that “are killed by the impact” versus the flies that simply “die.”
- Filler words. We writers love words…maybe a little too much. Are all of our words necessary? My rewrite quickly bogs itself down under the weight of ” would certainly have to be,” “each and every,” “around and around,” and “it is a time when”. Play a game with your WIP: take a few sentences and try to rewrite them to be half as long, a third as long, even just an eighth as long. Experiment with what words you can cut without losing meaning.
- Clichés. We’ve read these so many times that when they pop up, it’s easy to read right over them. Except for the unnecessary space they consume in our writing, it’s almost like they don’t exist for all the impact they have on readers. My rewrite’s description of “sun-ripened” mangoes and “sweet-smelling” air are not only longer, but lamer, than Roy’s.
- Unnecessary adjectives and adverbs. When it comes to description, sometimes less is more. My use of “exceedingly” and “significantly” doesn’t help readers visualize the gravity of the description, and the ” plump, yellow, odd-smelling” jackfruits might just have gone a bit overboard; Roy’s startlingly clear verb (“bursts”) packs more punch.
Stop wordiness before it starts
Editing out unnecessary words is great, but can we train ourselves not to include them at all? When meaning infuses each word, we’re less likely to use too many. Consider minimizing unnecessary words by regularly employing the following language devices:
- Fresh verbs. Roy’s river “shrinks”; her crows “gorge”; her jackfruits “burst”; her flies “stun themselves.” These verbs aren’t typical; they also require less elaboration than my ho-hum “starts to dry up,” “eat,” “starting to get significantly riper,” and “buzz around and around.” Yawn.
- Active voice. Roy’s repeated subject-verb sentence construction lends immediacy to her writing. Your sentence structure can vary from this, of course, but putting subjects in charge of their verbs trims the word count and reads smoothly.
- Stark contrast. Moving quickly from one opposite description to another or juxtaposing contrasting images economizes words and efficiently establishes action or setting. Roy’s days are “long,” but the river “shrinks.” Birds “gorge” in “still” trees. Those trees are “dustgreen” while the bananas are “red.” Her flies first “hum,” then “die.” All in 55 words.
- Varied sentence length. Achieve unique rhythm by alternating short and long sentences. We’re ready to digest Roy’s “Dissolute bluebottles hum vacuously in the fruity air” in part because we’ve just been slammed with the fast– and effective– “Jackfruits burst.” In my rewrite, the sentences are all about the same length; there’s no break.
- Unusual description. When was the last time you thought of those flies wriggling on their backs on your windowsill as “fatly baffled?” A summer month as “hotly brooding?” Descriptions that make readers pause, think, and wonder need not be long; their strangeness carries the writing.
How do you avoid wordiness in your writing? What strategies do you have in place for editing wordiness out of your work, or for writing efficiently in the first place?
Love this. I’m guilty of the “being” verbs and have to go on regular hunting expeditions to hack ’em.
I might send this to mom, from whom I just received an email where she “philosophizes” about her “dubious and timorous trepidation” of all things tech. 🙂
Carrie, your mom’s statement made me smile. 🙂 I hope it’s helpful for you both! Those “being” verbs are so pesky, aren’t they?
Great article. While my own problem is being too terse I do stumble into some of the problems you identify. I tend to cut all description and interaction until I end up with: the protag fought the antag until the good guy won. Sometimes the bad guy wins but I’m an optimist so those stories are rare for me. Maybe I shloud sub that story somewhere….
Hmmm, a bad guy winning…that would be an interesting twist! Try it out!
As for working backwards and adding more words to flesh out a terse piece, you could probably stick to many of the same rules of language, making sure that that what you add fits. I bet it’s hard to decide where to add, though. I’ll have to give that some thought.
Great article. While my own problem is being too terse I do stumble into some of the problems you identify. I tend to cut all description and interaction until I end up with: the protag fought the antag until the good guy won. Sometimes the bad guy wins but I’m an optimist so those stories are rare for me. Maybe I should sub that story somewhere….
Great post. I think I put in too many words in my writing. But I always go back and edit and tend to cut out the frills.
Thank goodness we’re able to go back, right? Sometimes I feel like the most important writing happens in the rewriting.
Ahem… I believe you’re talking to me. I could have written the first paragraph. Easily.
I’m working on it. 🙂
🙂 As am I, Patricia!
My creative writing teacher in high school taught us to ruthlessly slice all adverbs and all forms of “to be” from our manuscripts. I found that as I paid more attention to these words, I felt less inclined to use them. My best advice is to run a find and replace on “ly” and “was.” Removing all those (or even just seeing how many are in your MS) will help you determine how to address the problem.
I have to confess, Mercia, as a high school English teacher I did the same thing! I felt ruthless, but it seemed to really help people’s writing. I discovered the problem by accident, when I was trying to figure out why some students’ sentences sounded so clunky.
I like your advice on the “find and replace”– thanks.
I’ve just started the first draft of my WIP, so these tips come at a great time. Thanks for the post!
Sarah, Sarah, Sarah… (wait, was that too wordy, using your name three times like that?) you have hit on an important learning curve that I am negotiating in my writing journey. My writing has improved so much since I started blogging. Many times, we don’t realize we’re doing the things you pointed out, even though in our heart and mind, we know better.
I don’t always have time to properly do this, but it helps if I go back and preview my posts as though I am someone else reading it. Sometimes I will cut whole sentences or half a paragraph. I used to have a terrible problem with saying the same thing multiple times in different ways within a piece or even within the same paragraph. I’m learning to CUT – IT – OUT!
And wordy, girl, I can barely hold them all in! I have begun ruthlessly editing myself from starting every opening sentence with, “Okay, so today I went to” or “Well, today I went to…” Those words aren’t necessary. Command the sentence! “Today, I went to…” or “I went to ____ today” are much better alternatives. Short. To the point. I have to be careful not to bore my readers or they will be gone before the first paragraph. I’m ruthless when reading others’ blogs, so why wouldn’t they be the same with me?
Cindy, Cindy, Cindy…sometimes repetition is OK. 🙂 Cutting is SO hard though, isn’t it? Even when I cut stuff, I sometimes can’t bear to delete it totally. I keep hoping I’ll be able to use it elsewhere…but usually, it just lies dormant and forgotten.
I memorized the list of being verbs back in 8th grade. needless to say I’m well out of college now and I still remember that list. Who knew it might come in hand when revising my own work. I’m totally going to have to remeber to use it.
My current method for cutting wordiness is to first write and then finesse. Sadly I haven’t foun to many synonyms for laugh and sigh – two things my currant protagonist seems to do a lot. (She does not giggle, so that cut down my laugh options. *sigh*) *grin*
:} Cathryn
Cathryn, your protagonist sounds very likable! And I think we might have a few key actions in common. 🙂
I do think that “writing first,” then cutting, is the way to go. The process of writing, of getting it all out there, is key; perhaps only once you’ve said more can you see clearly enough to cut back.
I try to use active verbs (instead of -ing). I do like desciptors; there’s a reason for adjectives and adverbs… but, not too many. Is there another way to give the noun or verb some punch-up without always resorting to adjectives and adverbs.
My first draft I write; second draft I cut; third pass through I finesse and polish. Lots of work, so well worth it.
Deborah, I like your point about the -ing verbs; those are often the “slower” ones. And yes, writing completely without adjectives and adverbs would not work…we must only choose carefully.
I guess I am the “odd man out” on this subject. I like the first version better. I suits the attention span of today because even though it is wordier, it is easier to understand and to follow. The second paragraph “B” is short and to the point and requires more concentration and harder work for the brain. Every short sentence is a punch.
Don’t know how long someone would keep on reading before concentrating on something else. Maybe those are the books where someone reads no more than 3 pages and puts it away. To catch someone’s imagination and take them away from daily life an easy description is the best tool.
Chris, if I’m reading this correctly, I think you might object to Roy’s style as opposed to her word count. Her style is certainly quite different from, say, Hemingway’s, but what they both have in common is the way they carefully economize words. There are probably ways to “de-poeticize” Roy’s writing without adding the many superfluous words I used in Paragraph A.
Roy’s writing really captivates me and I flew through the book, but that’s a matter of personal choice. There are other books people have recommended to me quite enthusiastically that I just can’t pull myself through.
So, the second paragraph is better? Really?
I hate it. I mean I hate, hate HATE it.
Yes, Roy’s choices of verbs are bright, and yeah they burst, and of course they shrink the word count. But do they pull me in? Does the sentence structure make me feel the humidity? Can I smell the ripening fruit? Can I see those mangoes in the dustgreen trees?
No. Emphatically NO.
The writing is flat and pushes me, the reader, away. It is, however, the latest and greatest trend making the learn-how-to-write circuits.
I shall begin my dissection with word choice.
Dustgreen. Dustgreen trees in a humid climate where the days are long and brooding? Hmm. Nope. Doesn’t work; doesn’t fit. Dust accumulates on dry trees in arid climates. As a reader, I don’t believe the description is humid. Might there be another compound descriptor that invokes a humid color of green? Sure. But if Roy is in love with dustgreen then she should make it work. Tell me, the reader, that the once dustgreen trees are now something like a slick, wet green after a month long monsoon. Then she’ll make me a believer.
So, why do I take such offense to a color description? Roy sacrificed sensory perception for chic trend. Her writing seems desperate to wax poetic. Which, in essence is putting a mask on a cliché. Dustgreen is the tragic mistake of a beginning writer to jar, to be different – at the reader’s expense.
Now for varied sentence length. The short choppy sentences – also the rage – make me feel like I’m riding one of those Push-Me-Pull-Yous from Dr. Doolittle. They’re awful. They’re lifeless. Those red ripening bananas and the jackfruits that bursts are nothing but paint splattered on a wall. This is bad, bad poetry masquerading as prose.
Oh, and my least favorite – I’m-really-a-poet – sentence is the last where the common bluebottle flies stun themselves against clear windows and die flatly baffled. Ok, I’ll give Roy bluebottles instead of the common word fly; it’s good to make readers stretch now and then. I won’t give her clear windows in a humid climate, or flat bluebottles. If the setting is modern day in a humid climate, windowpanes are covered with condensation – on the outside of the building. And if it’s modern day in a poor country without air-conditioning, then those are sweaty, filthy-dirty windowpanes.
Ah, but back to those dissolute bluebottles. While almost Shakespeare worthy, I fear do not go flatly into that cruel, hot sun. The only time a fly goes flat is on the windshield of my convertible when my foot is to the floor. Though I do like baffled and stunned bluebottles. I think those descriptors work.
So why does Roy’s paragraph emphatically perturb me? Aside from trying so hard to not use common descriptors, and not invoke clichés, I don’t feel a thing. The other trend to invoke visuals that are oh-so-opposite, leave me bereft of context.
I don’t feel the non-ending humidity. I don’t hear those bursting jackfruit. I don’t believe those flat bluebottles. And I don’t think I would like riding a Push-Me-Pull-You. I used to ride horses and the choppy trot was the worst gait for enjoying the ride.
How would I change Roy’s paragraph?
What if that sentence about the brooding month of May was long and hung on the page? What if the humidity made the river shrink into the thick air while black crows drown in the shade of a still laden mango trees? Throw in yellow if you want. Now, there’s an example of using descriptive opposites to jar, wake your reader up, AND at the same time invoke insufferable humidity.
When I read I want to imagine and I want feel the setting of the story. If the month is long; show me. I want those sentences to be long, languid and lazy. Which is just how I feel when I’m stuck in humidity without hope of escape. Those pesky flies on windowpanes are everywhere, and while they may be bluebottles, I think they could be put to much better use.
Red bananas ripen and can turn into a swamp of viscous syrup that those dissolute bluebottles can hum around and get sucked into a baffled death. Again, here, I’m visualizing and feeling the oppressiveness the way humidity makes me feel.
As for those jackfruits, they are the largest tree fruit on the face of the Earth. Ripened, some weigh over eighty pounds. Instead of telling me that they go pop, show me the tree bough’s bending under their pendulous weight. Then have the jackfruit droppings be immense, thick smears on the ground that I have to wade through.
Ah, but is the first paragraph any better? Well, it needs help. Although what it does achieve that Roy’s paragraph doesn’t is mood. In this first paragraph my mind is visualizing the setting while I wade through those common descriptors, extra adverbs and adjectives.
I believe writers should use every tool in their toolbox to make a setting come alive. If the place is humid, make that reader feel like they’re smothering while on dry ground. Never fear to make an insufferable, long, serpentine sentence when your reader needs to visualize AND feel. Decreased word count does not make all writing better. It just doesn’t.
Please forgive me Sarah, while I not-so-humbly disagree with your example of fresher writing. I do not feel fresh after reading Roy’s paragraph, and I certainly do not feel or believe it is a description of a humid setting. What I do believe these two paragraphs illustrate beautifully is VOICE and PACE.
Writing is complex, and must be taken in context. Go ahead and make long, languid, sentences when you are building mood and setting. And don’t be afraid to pace your reader and make them feel like their stuck in sticky places.
OK, the trot is also my least favorite gait. But what about alternating between a trot and a canter? That’s not so bad. 🙂
Thanks for taking the time to present this thorough critique. You certainly don’t have to like Roy’s writing. I do, but I still find your point about making sure there’s purpose in each choice of word and sentence length compelling. Absolutely, core meaning should take precedence over “trendiness.”
I’m not sure that a humid setting has to be entirely slow and sticky, though. The dissonance between languor and sudden movement (echoed in sentence length) nicely fuels Roy’s plot later.
Higher word counts don’t necessarily point to wordiness, either; it’s not really so much about how many words we use as what kinds of words we use. I don’t think the words I added in Paragraph A were particularly rich and meaningful, and I’m not sure that as a reader you should have to “wade through those common descriptors, extra adverbs and adjectives.” In other words, if I wanted to write longer sentences, I could do so without being as banal as I was in Paragraph A.
Thanks for a thought-provoking read!
Sarah, thank you for answering every critique. A good writer involves ALL the senses, as we were taught and one cannot really do this with short sentences.
I find this discussion so valuable and it seems to show that there is definitely a difference in the attention span of people. Patience is not a virtue any more – it is a nuisance 🙂 You underestimate the power in paragraph A, many readers lack the imagination to see a scene in their head, and to describe a scene the way the author sees it requires rich an meaningful text. You example really teaches a lesson.
Thanks for some great tips Sarah. I think I’m guilty of using ‘to be’ verbs more often than not, because metaphors can sound awkward to me. But that’s no excuse, if they still convey the same image, with less words. This would be my #1 tip – look through your sentences and ask yourself if you’ve used as few words as possible to still convey the meeting.
Using as few words as possible to convey meaning…that’s it exactly! And I think you just did a much better job than I did of stating my message succinctly. 🙂
I don’t think you need to force metaphor; it’s not a necessary component for everyone’s writing. But you’re right, it can help convey an image briefly and with multi-layered meaning.
Great piece!
Makes clear in a tight, understandable way the sort of traps we can all fall into.
Thanks for posting. 🙂
helpful post, I always end up being too wordy, I’ll keep these in mind when I am editing my WIP
I’m glad it was helpful, Ileandra!
This totally inspired a post about my own editing process. Cheers for the idea, and yes I like paragraph B better for sure. It is all about precision and word choice, I think so at least.
Definitely, Susan. Precision is key for me. Does every word NEED to be there? If not, time to start slicing!
Yes, I love this! And I love that you use Roy as an example. One of my favorite openings of all time.
I love Roy too. She seems to invoke really strong feelings either way, but I admire her ability to balance poignancy, wry humor, and devastation. Those lush descriptions don’t hurt either.
excellent post. copy, paste, print, tack to board.
merci
My pleasure– I’m so glad this post will help!
I love your tips! I agree, wordiness bores readers. Nice post!
You’re right; It’s easy to get so tangled up in superfluous words that we just lose interest. Glad you liked the tips!
Hi, really enjoyed this post. It conveys the qualities of good writing very succinctly and convincingly. My novel, however, is narrated in the voice of someone whose native tongue isn’t English. To convey this, I deliberately give her being verbs and passive constructions. Writing badly can be such fun! It’s all a matter of voice.
This sounds really interesting, Claudia! I think you’ve hit upon a terrific reason NOT to always follow these rules. Establishing characters’ unique voices takes precedence.