Tag Archives: adverbs

Word Discrimination, Part 1

Are some words better than others? Are certain parts of speech to be shelved, or even banned from our writing? You’d think so based on some of the most highly recommended writing instruction books available.

Not too long ago, an editor at a writers’ conference referred to one such book as his writing bible. The book in question? Self-editing For Fiction Writers by Renni Browne and Dave King. This slender volume does, in fact, point to one particular group of words and advises against its use. Mostly.

I’m referring to adverbs, especially those that end in –ly. Here is the pertinent instruction:

Be on the lookout for –ly adverbs, for the sake of sophistication …

When you self-edit, you can root out these verb/adverb combinations like the weeds they are. The weak verbs that come to mind so readily can then be jettisoned in favor of stronger, more specific verbs — verbs that can say exactly what you want to say without help.

There are exceptions, of course … but even where the adverbs aren’t the product of lazy writing, they can still look like lazy writing, just because –ly adverbs have been used so often by so many hacks in the past (pp. 159-160).

Clearly, this piece of writing advice has merit. Verbs and nouns (subjects, in particular) are the centerpieces of every sentence and should be as strong as possible — that is, they should be as specific as possible so that they evoke a particular image.

For example, notice how the image changes for each of the following sentences:

    (1) The reporter sauntered into the office.
    (2) The reporter dashed into the office.
    (3) The reporter crept into the office.

Three different images, but the only word that’s different is the verb.

Would walked lazily, walked quickly, walked slowly have the same power to transform the sentence? Not at all. The right verb is infinitely more powerful than a “catch all” verb combined with a describer.

That being said, I think it’s important to mention two things here. First, Browne and King themselves said there are exceptions. In other words, there is no hard and fast rule that must be obeyed (for more information on this topic see “Are Rules Really Rules?”).

Secondly, there is subjectivity involved. One person may think the use of an –ly adverb has the appearance of lazy writing, is unsophisticated, or is a weed that needs to be uprooted, and another reader may think that construction is clear and precise.

My recommendation is two-fold. For beginning writers, after you have finished the rough draft of your story, search out –ly adverbs and eliminate them by utilizing stronger, more specific verbs. Without exception. Resistance to this step can lead a writer astray. It is too easy for us to rationalize, convincing ourselves that our adverbs are the ones that add clarity and precision. Digging out better verbs can be hard, time-consuming work, but better verbs equal better writing.

For more advanced writers, use –ly adverbs with intentionality. They might be necessary for clarity, but also for sentence rhythm or for conveying a character’s unique voice. The rule of thumb should be that adverbs you keep must add value to your work.

A final word. When critiquing someone else’s work, writers shouldn’t be too quick to apply a “writing rule.” As always, the overriding guide should be whether or not the piece (sentence, paragraph, chapter, or story) works. If an author paints a vivid scene incorporating an –ly adverb, it is not “wrong.” There are, in fact, no banned parts of speech. Adverbs, like other words, can work for the fiction writer, but first we must demonstrate mastery over strong verbs before we go about describing them.

Next time, adjectives.

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Are Rules Really Rules?

When an editor or critique partner dissects a manuscript, often he or she points out places where the author has “broken” some writer rule. One such common rule is to avoid using -ly adverbs.

But are these rules real?

They aren’t. However they do serve a purpose. Beginning writers often have similar weaknesses, and these “rules” provide a handy means of teaching writers to avoid those weaknesses. The problem comes when writers take the rules as … well, actual rules.

Rather than following a rule blindly, a writer would do well to understand the purpose behind it and adhere to the spirit of the rule.

In regards to the -ly adverb, as I understand it, the point is to steer writers in the direction of strong verbs rather than weak ones coupled with adverbs intended to give them substance. In other words, -ly adverbs don’t need to be excised as if they were a cancer. They do need to be used sparingly, however, as Christy Award nominee Tom Pawlik has done in his novel Vanish. Here’s an excerpt from a random page:

The lawyer was starting to lose it. He had obviously formed some kind of attachment to the kid. Maybe that was just part of being a father or because Conner’s own son had died or something.

Mitch, on the other hand, felt oddly detached from the whole situation. Sure, he felt bad, but it wasn’t like they could have done anything to prevent it. And it wasn’t like they could do anything about it now.

Besides, he had never really gotten over his suspicion that the kid might be connected to the aliens somehow. (emphasis mine)

Notice that the three adverbs do not serve to bolster a weak verb. Consequently, Mr. Pawlik hasn’t broken the spirit of the “rule,” and he’s been freed up to make use of perfectly good words that add strength to his character’s voice.

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Altering Sentence Structure, Part 2

Including fragments is only one way a writer can create sentence structure variety. Another is to begin sentences with something other than their subjects (or the attending adjectives). Possible sentence openers include prepositional phrases (e.g. in the house), participial (words that are verb forms) phrases (e.g. waving her hand), adverbs, and even conjunctions.

Here are some examples, taken from Stephen R. Lawhead’s latest novel, Tuck:

Prepositional phrases:

At the cookhouse, he begged a bite to eat and a cup of something to drink, and found the kitchener most obliging.

Participial phrases:

Stepping past the gaoler [jailer], Tuck pushed the door open farther and relieving the porter of his torch, entered the cell.

A series (and mixture) of phrases;

Upon reaching the foot of the fortress mound, Tuck worked his way along the rising, switchback path towards the entrance.

Single word adverb:

Again, a slight hint of a grimace crossed the earl’s face.

Adverbial phrase:

That night at supper, Bran baited and set the snare to catch Wolf Hugh.

Conjunctions:

And while he told himself that paying monks to pray souls from hell was a luxury he could ill afford, dep in his heart of hearts he knew only too well …

A key point to remember is that varying your sentence structure is something to do during revision, not something to worry about in your first draft, or even in your first rewrite. First get the story down, then work to pretty it up!

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Filed under Sentence structure