Words Matter

We use words all the time. But which words, and how we use them, matters. Not all words are created equal. There are no shortcuts to effective writing. In fact, shortcuts are usually barriers to effective writing. This essay lists some of these shortcuts, why they result in weak writing, and provides, through examples, ways to avoid them.

Vague Words.

Let’s start with words like big, large, small, huge, tall, short, hot, cold, mad, happy, sad, very, really, afraid, strong, weak. This list isn’t complete, but you get the idea. None of these are specific and instead often come in gradations. Don’t write he was a big man. That’s ambiguous since it could mean tall, or muscular, or fat, but those are all vague words, too. For example, at six-one, I’m pretty tall, but not compared with a professional basketball player. Be specific instead of vague. If it’s a “small box,” tell us it’s the size of a child’s lunchbox, or maybe just big enough to hold a toaster. Give your adjective scale.

Mark Twain once said that whenever he was tempted to use the word “very,” he’d write a cuss word instead. He knew his editor would delete the profanity and thus, he said, his prose would look the way it should have in the first place. His point was that modifiers like “really” and “very’ are just speed bumps that add nothing to your prose.

Alternatively, some of these vague words are common in people’s speech, so using them in dialogue can add realism. Writing effective dialogue is another whole topic for a later essay.

You can find many lists of vague words on the internet, for example.

Verbs can be vague, too. Consider how many different ways one can walk: slowly, quickly, drunkenly, and cautiously, to name just a few. But the way to poop up a weak verb like walk isn’t with an adverb; instead, a more specific verb is better. So raced, strolled, staggered, and edged are better choices than walked plus an adverb. Indeed, in almost every instance where an adverb modifies a verb, there’s a better, more specific verb available. It’s for this reason that Stephen King says the road to Hell is paved with adverbs.

A thesaurus can be your friend when looking for a more precise verb, but be careful! A thesaurus can lead you to words like perambulate, which just sounds silly in most fiction. I embrace polysyllablic elucidation as much as the next guy and frequently deploy such in exegesis to advance a thesis. Oops. I meant to say “using big words is a bad habit I need to break.”

Forms of To Be

Here, we mean any sentence where a form of the verb “to be” is the primary verb. A sentence like “Jack was cold” qualifies. On the other hand, in “Jack was driving to Atlanta,” the main verb is driving and “was” indicates when he was driving (either in the past or in the continuous past). You can’t avoid forms of “to be” since they are helper verbs in English to indicate tense. But when they are the primary verb in a sentence, they are an example of weak writing.

So, in the example Cliff was cold, writing Cliff shivered and his teeth chattered conveys the same information with active verbs. It was quiet might instead be Carla strained to hear a sound, but only her pulse thudded in her ears.

The last time I wrote about the verb “to be,” someone wrote back and told me the number of times Hemingway used such verbs in the first twenty pages of The Old Man and the Sea, as if that were a rebuttal. But consider what Picasso once said: Learn the rules like a pro, so you can break them like an artist. Throughout his career, Picasso continued to produce breathtaking, realistic art alongside his more familiar iconoclastic works. When you’re a genius like Hemingway or Picasso, you can make any rules work or make up your own. Whether or not you’re a genius, it’s wise to follow Picasso’s advice about rules.

Filter words.

These are words filter a sensation through a character. These include words about the five senses: see, hear, touch, taste, and smell. But they can also include what the point-of-view character knows, experiences, or is able to do. Sometimes these are called “telling words,” since they tell the reader what the character is sensing.

In the case of sensations, it’s almost always more immediate and intimate to directly describe what the character sensed. Similar rules apply to what the character knows, experiences, or is able to do. If you want to emphasize that the character did indeed see, hear, or feel it, you can have them react in some way.

For example, the following sentence is telling.

Ginger felt the hot sand through the soles of her sandals.

For a direct description, try, The heat from the sand penetrated the soles of Ginger’s sandals and scorched her feet. Note this also makes the “heat” an active element of the scene, penetrating and scorching.

Another example of telling:

The Professor saw Mary Ann sunbathing.

For an alternative, try, Mary Ann stretched on the sunlit beach. To emphasize the Professor saw her, you might add, The Professor’s face heated and he averted his eyes. For a different reaction, try, The professor moved a palm frond for a better view.

Here’s yet another example.

Sam heard Diane and Frazier chatting.

A more direct wording might be, Diane and Frazier whispered to each other in a corner of the bar. To emphasize Sam heard them, try adding, Sam edged closer to hear their words. An alternative might be, Sam looked away. Who cared what they were saying? Note that the final sentence is an example of giving Sam’s thoughts in free indirect discourse. (See “What Was HeThinking?” .)

For an example of telling what a character knows:

The Professor knew that Gilligan and the Skipper didn’t always agree.

How does the Professor know this? Maybe because, The Skipper was yelling at Gilligan again, just like last week. Using this sentence, including the qualifier “again,” implies what the Professor knows and thus we don’t need to be told that the Skipper “knows” this. After all, the Skipper yelled at Gilligan in every episode.

Show, don’t tell.

We’ve all heard “show, don’t tell.” But narrated action, where the author tells the reader what happened instead of showing it as it happens, is still one of the most common examples of weak writing. If it’s important enough to be on the page, it’s important enough to show. In particular, show what people are thinking or doing instead of telling us they did it. Instances of telling are often also instances of using vague words and/or telling words.

This tells what Martin thinks:

Martin thought Frazier’s words were foolish.

“Thought” is both a telling word and a filter word. Alternatively, if you write Frazier’s words made Martin roll his eyes, you’re showing the reader Martin’s thoughts through his reaction. Better yet would be to show Frazier’s speaking by having him say something foolish followed by Martin rolling his eyes.

This tells us how Daphne feels:

Niles’ gift made Daphne uncomfortable.

Again, “uncomfortable” is a telling word. Alternatively, this revision shows how she feels: When Niles presented Daphne with the perfume, she blushed and lowered her eyes. Note here we made the gift explicit and gave Daphne a reaction.

Another example.

Raging, Rebecca went to her office.

This commits multiple offenses–see infinite-verb phrases below. It’s also telling the reader that Rebecca is “raging” instead of showing it. Instead, consider, Rebecca slammed a bottle of Chevas onto the bar, stomped to her office, and slammed the door. This revision shows Rebecca being angry.

Finally, consider this example.

Diane told Sam how she really felt.

Here, you might try, Diane whispered in Sam’s ear, “I hate you.” Or maybe something a little more dramatic, along the lines of an actual scene from Cheers:

Sam shouted, “You drive me crazy. I can’t stand you.”
Diane screamed, “No, I can’t stand you.”
He grasped her by the shoulders and demanded, “Are you as turned on as I am?”
Helpless, she dissolved against him and cried, “Yes, my darling!”

It would be a mistake to write, “Diane at last told Sam how she really felt” anywhere in the above scene. The words and deeds of the characters show the heat of the exchange, and the sudden turn of emotions both surprises us and releases tension. Telling spoils the surprise and dampens the release.

Infinite Verb Phrases

John Gardner writes about these at some length in his classic The Art of Fiction. His examples include “Looking up from her knitting, Martha…” or “Carrying his duck in his left hand, Henry…” These are introductory phrases using -ing verbs where the subject appears in the main body of the sentence, after the action. These are also examples of a micro-time-reversal, since the reader learns about the action before she learns who carried it out. Needless time reversals might be another category all by itself, but that’s for another newsletter.

Usually these arise when the author tries to fix some other problem. Consider this sequence of actions, for example.

Roz pulled into the gas station. She checked the price of gas. She counted out five dollars in her purse. She opened the door. She stepped out of the car. She walked to the pump. She unscrewed the gas cap on her car. She inserted the nozzle in her car. She pumped the gas. She stopped when the gauge showed five dollars.

Okay, this is dreadful. All the sentences after the first one start with “she,” and thud along with dreary action after action. One problem is that this has too much detail. It gives every little step she makes between pulling into the station and finally pumping the gas into her car. Readers can fill in implied details, so one fix is to leave out some of the steps. Another repair is to join some of the actions together. In combination, this might lead to the following.

Pulling into the gas station, Roz counted out five dollars in her purse. Opening the door, stepping out of the car, and walking to the pump, she unscrewed the gas cap on her car. Inserting the nozzle into her car and pumping the gas, she stopped when the gauge showed five dollars.

This isn’t much better and, in many ways, is worse. First, she’s simultaneously pulling into the gas station and counting the money in her purse. It’s possible to do those two things at once, but unlikely. Then, she’s opening the door, stepping out of the car, and walking to the pump at the same time she’s unscrewing the gas cap. Similar problems arise in the final sentence. Worse, the action of pulling into the station is separated from the person doing it. The same is true for all of the other actions in the introductory clauses in this revision.

So what to do? Well, consider the following.

Roz pulled into the gas station and sighed at the prices. She dug into her purse and found four crumbled ones, three quarters, and two nickels. It would have to do. She squeezed barely a gallon into her tank.

Several things are notable here. Roz pulls into the station and reacts to the prices. We know from this she looked at them. Then she digs into her purse and finds a specific amount of money. The crumpled state of the bills and the random chnage implies that’s all there is to find. Her thought that this would “have to do” is presented via free indirect discourse. Finally, we have her squeeze out barely a gallon, so we can infer the price. The verbs are all active: pull, sigh, dig, find, squeeze. Her thought conveys desperation, but determination, too. This isn’t perfect, but it’s miles better than the earlier examples.

Conclusion

None of the above ideas are difficult to understand or to put in practice. The challenge is that they often involve breaking habits and avoiding shortcuts. This requires thought and deliberate intent. Shortcuts sneak into everyone’s writing, but, to paraphrase King, shortcuts are the road to Hell. Every author has their own style, but good craft enhances style instead of suppressing it.

Besides gratuitous polysyllabic elucidation showing off with big words, my personal challenge is the declarative sentence—the one with “to be” in it. These sneak in all the time, without me thinking about them or even being aware of them. Doubtless this is a relic of my career in mathematics, where existence was often the whole point. What’s your personal writing challenge?