Two cutting
references in two weeks. Hmmmm...
Bonus
points and a vocabulary star if any of you actually know what that title phrase
refers to. No, don’t cheat and look it
up. Be honest about what you know and
what you don’t.
So, since I
was away editing for a bit I though this would be a good time to toss up some thoughts
on editing. I’ve been doing this
professionally for almost a decade now--full time for close to six years--and I
still need to do lots of editing. It’s
just one of those unavoidable truths--99.9999% of us don’t write usable first drafts.
For the
record, that .0001% is Paul Haggis, so don’t think you’re the
exception. He is. And it took him thirty years to become the
exception.
Cutting is
painful, though, because it means losing lots of stuff. I poured my heart into the first draft of 14,
but in the end I still needed to cut over 20,000 words from it. That’s a hundred pages, gone. And it’s a leaner, tighter, stronger book
because of it.
Well, because
of most of it.
Knowing
that my writing needs work is a strength.
It’s not admitting failure. It’s
admitting I can improve, and if someone can’t admit that they’re never going to
improve.
The thing
is, so many folks think making cuts means lopping off entire subplots or
removing well-developed characters or cutting out that three page monologue from a random guy on the street explaining how tax cuts for the rich are
really good for the middle class.
Editing doesn’t mean cutting all that (although you probably could lose that
monologue and not a lot of folks will complain). It can mean just a general tightening and
trimming of all the little things.
Think of
those Olympic swimmers, runners, and bicyclists. They know that shaving their exposed hair and
wearing tight clothes reduces drag. Not
by much, but the little things pile up and can make the difference between a
gold medal and a silver one.
So here’s a
couple very easy, straightforward ways you can make cuts and maybe trim a few thousand
words from your writing...
That—
Whenever I start editing, I always start with a “that” pass. It’s a word we all drop into our writing in
an attempt to be grammatically perfect, but four out of five times the writing
would be just as clear (and more concise) without it.
--------------------------------------
Phoebe
thought that Wakko would love her new dress.
He chose
the same weapon that his predecessor had used.
vs
Phoebe
thought Wakko would love her new dress.
He chose
the same weapon his predecessor had used.
--------------------------------------
On my first
pass through 14 I removed over 600 uses of that. That’s over two pages. In Ex-Communication, I cut over
200 of them. Use the Find feature in
Word (it’s up there under Edit) and search for it in your writing. See how often it shows up. Check how many of them are necessary. Odds are you’ll find at least half of them
aren’t.
Adverbs-- This is usually my second pass through the
editing draft. This time I use Find to
locate all the places “ly” shows up. I
can admit it—as I get caught up in the flow of words a lot of adverbs sneak
into my writing. And they’re pretty
useless...
--------------------------------------
They all screamed loudly at the approaching psychopath.
“Shut your damn mouth, bitch,” snapped Phoebe angrily.
“Shut your damn mouth, bitch,” snapped Phoebe angrily.
He eagerly grabbed the statue he'd spent weeks searching for.
-------------------------------------
Do those
adverbs add anything to their sentences? Would a reader figure out that Phoebe was
angry, or that the scream was loud? I’d
guess three out of five times I find an adverb in my writing I don’t need
it. The fourth time I’ve chosen the
wrong verb, and once I’ve got the right one... well, I don’t need the adverb. If I’m using my vocabulary well, there aren’t
many times I’ll need one. I cut over 500
adverbs and adverbial phrases out of 14 and 330 out of
Ex-Communication.
I heard a
great rule of thumb from writer/ editor Pat LaBrutto that I've mentioned a few
times. One adverb per page, four adjectives per page. It’s just a guideline, granted, but if you’re
averaging six or seven adverbs per paragraph maybe you should give them all a
second look. And then a third look.
Useless
Modifiers -- I've also called this Somewhat Syndrome a few times.
This is one I struggle with a lot, but I’m getting much more aware of it. It's when I pepper my sentences with somewhat, almost, a bit, slightly,
and other such modifiers. They show up in
dialogue a lot, and sometimes in prose when I’m trying not to sound awkward
with a bunch of specifics.
Nine times
out of ten they're not doing anything, though, except adding to my word count
and slowing my story down. Use the Find
feature again, see how many of them are doing
anything, and look how much tighter and stronger your writing is without them. I cut almost 450 of these out of 14
and over 200 from Ex-Communication.
...Of...
--The word of can be a flag that something could be cut. A fair amount of the time, of is being
used to tack on an extra bit of description.
More often than not that description’s unnecessary and something the
reader already knows. Which means it’s
dragging my prose down and slowing the pace.
There’s a reason we all tend to say United States far more often than
United States of America.
Check out
these examples...
--------------------------------------
Captain Lancaster of the Defiant is here to see you, sir.
The razor-sharp edge of the sword flew through the beast’s
neck without hesitation.
vs.
Captain Lancaster is here to see you, sir.
The razor sharp edge flew through the beast’s neck without
hesitation.
--------------------------------------
It’s not a
sure-fire thing, but once I went looking I found three or four of these in Ex-Communication
that could go away.
Appeared
to be... --This is one of those phrases some people
latch onto and use all the time. It
slips into my writing, too. It tends to
be used as an introduction of sorts, leading the reader into some purple-prose description. This phrase sometimes
disguises itself as looked like or seemed to be or some variation thereof.
The thing
is, though, appeared to be doesn’t
get used alone. It’s part of a literary
construction where the second half of that structure is either an implied or
actual contradiction to the appearance.
So when you’re saying...
--Phoebe
appeared to stand six feet tall.
...what
you’re really saying is...
--Phoebe
appeared to stand six feet tall, but she was
actually closer to five foot five without her stiletto heels.
And what
you meant to be saying all along was
just...
--Phoebe
stood six feet tall.
If you
aren't trying to establish a contradiction, using appeared to be and its bastard stepchildren isn't just wasted
words-- it's wrong. I cut thirteen of
these that had slipped into Ex-Communication at one point or
another.
"As
you know..." –I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you take nothing else from this little
rant, take this one lesson.
“As you
know...” is probably the clumsiest form of exposition there
is. Really. Think about it. Just by saying "as you know," I'm
stating that you--the person I'm speaking to--already know the facts I'm about
to share. As a writer, why would I have
two characters engage in such a useless bit of dialogue?
When a
writer uses "as you know" or one of its half-breed cousins (“you may
recall” or “if you remember” or many others), it's a weak attempt to put out
some exposition through dialogue. My
lovely lady pointed out that a lot of these sentences tend to start with
“Look...”. If I’m using any of them,
almost across the board there's either (A) a better way to get the information
to the reader or (B) no need for this information because it ‘s already covered
somewhere else.
If I've got
a really solid manuscript--I mean rock-solid-- I might be able to get away with
doing this once. Just once. As long as I don't do it your first ten
pages.
In Ex-Heroes
it’s on page 98.
Anyway,
there's half a dozen quick, easy, and relatively painless cuts. Try them out and see if you can drop a
thousand words or more.
Next time,
I think we’re long overdue for a talk about spelling. And I’ve got a great list for you this time.
Until then,
go write.
This is really good advice. I have just tried it on my own work an it amazing how much I was able to cut.
ReplyDeleteFantastic advice, simple, yet effective. I started going through my own manuscript...Argh!! "That" is bloody everywhere!
ReplyDeleteBack to work for me!
Thanks Peter!
BTW. do you have time to read my manuscript? (Kidding)