It slices! It dices! It makes julienne fries! Plus, just add salt, pop the tray into the oven, and look—perfect hash browns, a great addition to any
breakfast!
Okay, I may
have watched too many infomercials lately.
There’s been a channel issue with the television. Don’t judge me.
Over the
past few months I’ve talked with a few folks about editing. They’re almost always interesting
conversations, but I noticed a while back they tend to skew in random directions.
Well, not really random. The questions
cover a large range.
One thing
that catches some folks off guard is that there are different kinds of
editing. They think of it as a general term, but it’s more of an umbrella that
covers a lot of things. Like how an oil
change, brake work, and a car wash can all fall under “basic maintenance,” even
though I’d probably have different people do them—and may even do some of them
myself.
For example, I have a regular
editor I work with, Julian, and he helps me edit my story. We dig through and find weak motivations,
unclear dialogue, and the thing that doesn’t really match, tone-wise,for one reason or another. His edits help improve the story. When someone panics about “an editor making them change their story,” this is usually what they’re talking about.
For the
record, in almost ten years of doing this writing thing, and personally knowing
close to a hundred professional writers with careers spanning most of that
time, I’ve only ever heard of this happening once. One time where the editor insisted on
a major change that the author disagreed with. And, no, it didn’t involve me or my editor.
I also work
with a copyeditor. This is the person
who finds spelling and grammar mistakes, inconsistencies that have slipped past
everyone, and in some cases even a bit of fact-checking. The copyeditor help me
improve the manuscript.
And of
course, neither of these are like the edits that I do myself before the manuscript
goes to my editor. Or even my beta
readers. That’s when I’m trimming words, tightening the story, and trying to
smooth out rough spots.
Today I
wanted to babble on (probably too much) about those easy edits.
The type of stuff that we all let slip though while we’re writing (and
the experienced folks know to then get rid of in their first round of revisions). I’ve mentioned some of them before in a broad
strokes sort of way, but it struck me that maybe I could even boil this down
further.
So here are
some words and phrases I can cut from my manuscript. Not all the time, but a fair amount of
it. A lot of them lead to other words,
too—they’re indicating a larger problem—so once I get rid of these it’ll
probably mean a few others on either side go away, too. Which means I’ll end up with a leaner,
stronger story.
One proviso
before we dive in. When I’m talking
about these cuts, I’m talking about prose, not dialogue. Dialogue gets a pass on a lot of this,
because people have lots of odd tics and habits when they talk, and all my
characters are people, right? Don’t worry about these suggested cuts too much,
except maybe where they overlap with basic dialogue tips.
This would apply to first person stories,
too. They’re effectively dialogue—stories being told in a strong, specific
character voice. Just remember,
characters and artful dialogue are fantastic, but it all needs to serve the story. I don’t want my narration to collapse because
of an all-too realistic narrator.
Okay, so... Ready?
Adverbs-- As mentioned above, most of us get caught up
in the flow of words, and what usually slips in is adverbs. We try to pretend they're important—they
spent valuable school-hours on them, after all, and school would never waste
our time—but the sad truth is they can almost always be replaced. I’d guess that three out of five times if I’m
using an adverb, I just don’t need it.
The fourth time odds are I’m probably using the wrong verb, and once I
find the right one, again, I won’t need the adverb. If I’m using my vocabulary well,
there aren’t many times I need one.
While I was
editing Paradox Bound I cut around 170 adverbs and adverbial phrases in my first editing pass. That’s almost a solid page of adverbs,
gone. Search your manuscript for LY and
see how many you find.
Adjectives—Some
folks use a lot of adjectives to make normal, average things sound
interesting. Coincidentally, these folks
tend to have a poor vocabulary. So when I
don’t know multiple words for, say, sword, I’ll just use multiple
adjectives instead of blade, claymore, rapier, saber, foil, or falchion.
Of course,
we all go a little overboard now and then
(anyone who says they don't is lying to you) because we’re convinced
this person, this place, this thing needs extra description. Yet we all know too much description brings things too a grinding halt.
There’s an
odd habit I’ve seen among fantasy writers—not only them, and not all of them by
a long shot, but enough to make it worth mentioning. They use dozens of adjectives per page, if
not per sentence. Often redundant ones
like “gleaming chrome sword of pure silver.”
I was at a writing
conference a few years back where writer/ editor Pat LaBrutto tossed put a pretty
solid rule of thumb. One adverb per page, four adjectives per
page. It’s only a guideline, yeah,
but if I’m averaging fifteen to twenty adjectives per page... maybe I should
give them all a second look.
That—People
tend to drop that into their writing a lot, and a good three out of four
times their writing would be tighter without it. I used to be a that junkie until someone pointed out how unnecessary it often is. Look
at these sentences—it doesn’t add anything to them.
Phoebe
could see that the two of them were meant to be together.
He punched
her in the same arm that she had been shot in.
She knew that
the Terminator would not stop—ever—until it had killed her.
Use the
Find feature, search for uses of that
in your writing, and see how many of them are necessary. Odds are you’ll find more than half of them
aren’t. I cut 132 that's from Paradox
Bound—just over half a page.
(I’ve gotten
better about adding them in to start with...)
Useless
Modifiers -- I've called this Somewhat Syndrome a few times in the past. This is another one I wrestle with a lot,
although I like to tell myself I've gotten better about it. It's when I pepper my writing with somewhat..,
sort of..., a bit..., kind of..., and other such modifiers.
I’d guess nine times out of ten they're not doing anything except adding to my
word count (not in the good way) and slowing my story (also not in the good
way). Use the Find feature again and see
how much tighter and stronger your story is without
these.
I cut over two hundred of these from that first draft of Paradox
Bound. That’s another full page gone.
Decided—This
word’s almost always filler. Maybe not
conscious filler, but it’s almost always filler that can be cut. If Wakko decides to do something
and then he does it, I’m just eating up words again. We all make hundreds of decisions and choices
every day, but readers want to hear about the action, not the decision
to take an action. The action itself
implies the decision was made.
Listen/
Look—If I start a line of dialogue with look or listen
I’d bet that almost 80% of the time it’s either an infodump or it’s stating
something plainly apparent. Which means this
dialogue is adding something that could be expressed through actions or subtext
or any number of ways. Or it isn’t
adding anything.
Obvious—If
something isn’t obvious, it comes across as arrogant to say it is. So I shouldn’t use the word obvious,
because the character (or writer) in question is going to look like a jerk. Which,
granted, might be the point...
On the
flipside, if something is obvious, then I still don’t need the
word. Things that are obvious are...
well, obvious, so it’s just wasted words for me to tell the readers about it.
Seemed/Appeared/
Looked – I’ve talked about these words a few times before. They show up in phrases like “appeared to
be,” “seemed to be,” “looked like,” and so on. The catch is, seemed
to be and its siblings don’t get used alone. They’re part of a literary construction where
the second half of that structure is either an implied or actual contradiction
to the appearance. So when I’m saying “Yakko
seemed like the kind of man you didn’t want to mess with,” what I’m really
saying is “Yakko seemed like the kind of man you didn’t want to mess with but really he was a pushover who fainted at
the sight of blood.” And what I meant to say all along was just “Yakko was the kind of man you
didn’t want to mess with.”
If I’m not
trying to establish a contradiction, using appeared
to be and the others isn't just wasted words-- it's wrong. So cut them
As
you know—I’ve talked about these three words a few times before. They’re awful. Just awful.
I won’t say this is the worst way to get the facts out to my readers—I
have full confidence there’s someone out there now working on a worse way—but
I’d put this in the 99-out-of-100 category.
If I’m
saying “as you know” to you, it means you already know what I’m telling you...
so why am I saying it? Why waste words
blatantly stating something that you and I both know? Yeah, maybe you've got amnesia, but if you do
then you don’t know... so why am I saying “as you know” to you?
If these
three words pop up together more than once in my manuscript, odds are I’m doing
something horribly wrong.
Was
– I always search for was, because it tends to point at weak verb
structures. It’s when I’ve got “Phoebe
was running” instead of just “Phoebe ran.”
It’s a small tweak, but it’s one that gives my writing punch because it
makes all my actions read just a bit faster.
The
Word—This is a tough one, because it’s going to depend on experience
and spending time going through my manuscript. I’ve found that a lot of times I’ll inadvertently
reuse a word or simple phrase again and again and again. It’s not really that odd—in the rush to get
that first draft out, there are a lot of places I’m going to pick the first
word that comes to mind. Might be a
certain verb, might be a noun, might be an adjective. In Paradox Bound it was glared. Lots of people glared in the early drafts of
that book. At each other. At objects.
Out at the uncaring universe...
Keep an eye
out for your word.
And there’s
eleven things I always search for and slice away. Editing made simple. Well, some of the editing.
One type of
editing.
And this was so much longer than I'd planned. So sorry.
By the way, if you're in the SoCal area, this Sunday is the Writers Coffeehouse. We'll be meeting noon to 3:00 at our usual hangout, Dark Delicacies in Burbank. Swing by, hang out and join us as we talk (this month) about creating great characters. Or just lurk.
Next time...
I had a few thoughts about genre and devices and structures you might find kind
of interesting.
Until then,
go write.
my current worst ones are: "of the" ("the roof of the car" rather than "the car roof") and "there was" ("there was a person sitting in the corner"; "a person sat in the corner"). Annoyingly, i didn't even notice i was overusing these until someone pointed them out to me...
ReplyDeleteoh, and my word is shrug. Everyone in all my stories is always shrugging.
The word. Right. A my characters smirk a lot. Granted, a couple of them are smart asses, but still. There seems to be an inordinate amount of smirking going on. So, what is a good way to handle it? Choose another word? I know John Scalzi simply uses "said" a lot. No matter what his characters are doing he ends the dialogue with "said" about 75% of the time. I've also read a lot of articles that discourage dialogue modifiers like "smirked" or "glared" or "chuckled" etc... So I guess my other question to you is, what's correct? or is everything correct in moderation?
ReplyDeleteWell, I've talked about using said a couple of times here on the ranty blog...
DeletePeter, I want to thank you for answer my question on Facebook with this link. It has helped me so much and I feel confident about my writing now. This is probably just fundamental to you. I'm in my first book and have no prior education or training, I just had an idea one day and then started writing.
ReplyDeleteThanks,
Eric
You're very welcome! Glad it helped.
Delete