“It’s just that I really wanted to tell you something that I saw…”

This week I’ve been working on revisions. I’m down to the nitty gritty, the kind of stuff you don’t need to think about until you’ve reached your final draft (or at least you hope it’s your final draft). I’m not talking about tweaking your Character Arc of Change and Action Arc (and twining the two together) or any other big-picture issues. The story is there, all the main pieces in place. I’m not even talking about trimming extraneous scenes or characters that don’t really have a place in the final draft. I always write long, and it’s better than writing short. It’s much easier to trim something than to add to it after all the main pieces are in place.

Beyond that, there’s another layer. A layer that, frankly, involves a lot of drudgery to get right, but it’s akin to giving a cut gem its final polish. (And if you write long and find yourself needing to cut words to fit a particular genre or age-range word count, it’s a golden opportunity to cut lots of words without cutting any important scenes.)

I’m talking about looking closely at all of those little words that don’t really contribute to your story in any meaningful way. Sometimes they go in because you’re trying to write in a colloquial style, particularly with dialogue. Often though they are lazy words with no real meaning, and you can often think of a clearer, more direct way to say it with a little more punch.

Some of these words are verbs: looked, felt, heard, saw. Sometimes they are fine, and appropriate. Other times, however, if you look closely you realize you don’t need them. If you are writing in 1st person or close 3rd, you don’t need to tell us if your character heard or saw something – we are seeing the story from that character’s point of view. Example: “She heard branches cracking in the forest as someone – or something – approached.” Better: “Branches cracked in the forest as someone – or something – approached.”

Felt is another word that can become more specific. “She felt tired” might become “Exhaustion dragged at her, making every step feel like she had sandbags tied to her legs.”

Seemed is weak, and often unneeded. Again, if you are in 1st or close 3rd, it’s obvious who is thinking: “It seemed to her that the day became darker as clouds scudded across the sky, blotting out the sun.” becomes “The skies darkened as…” It’s also weak as a general adjective: “The sky seemed dark and gray, portending a storm” becomes “The heavy gray sky portended a storm.”

I used the word something in an example above, and that’s another word to be used with caution. In this case, it might be appropriate since the hearer doesn’t know what or whom is approaching. But you should scan your manuscript and see if there are places where a more precise word could be used (this goes for anything or thing in general). I found myself in the bad habit of ending sentences with “…or something.” Just end it: “It was like he didn’t trust her (or something)”.

There are a couple more little words to look out for, and once you do a search for them, you will realize they proliferate like weeds. If you don’t root out at least half, you can be sure your manuscript is weak and wordy. I’m talking about just. For example, “’Just a sec!’ she answered, shoving the book back in her bag before he came over to see what she was up to” is fine, and natural conversation. “She’d just gotten back from the store…” also may be fine, since it indicates immediately preceding activity. Look for: “She (just) didn’t understand him sometimes.” Cut it out, and nothing changes. The word has no meaning. (Don’t underestimate this; I had 125 uses of just in my manuscript).

And finally, that. An insidious word we almost don’t notice. I had 424 instances of that. I got it down to 217, which sounds like a lot but is less than half of what it was. A useful word, but be careful of it: like salt, too much can spoil the manuscript soup. “It was like that story that she had told him before” becomes “He recalled the story she told him before.” Even better: “The story she told him, about her brother and the cabbages, made sense now.” In this example, we also replace the weak “to be” verb “was” with the more active verb “recalled.” Another good task is to go through and make sure your verbs are as dynamic as possible, leading the way in telling the story.

I haven’t talked here about every possible small word, or about adverbs. “Use adverbs sparingly” is a good use of an adverb, because it identifies the manner in which we should use them. “Use adverbs sparingly,” she said warningly” is just…no.

These may seem like trivial matters in the overall scheme of the story, but these little words matter to the feel and flow. Removing them or changing them to more active, direct words is like giving your manuscript a facial: scrubbing out all the old, dead cells and emerging with a glowing, vibrant new you. At the final pass, give your manuscript a spa day to bring out its best face for any agent, editor, or reader.