by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell
It’s almost a commandment among fiction writers: Cut the adverbs!
Sol Stein called adverbs a form of “flab” and advised cutting them all in a manuscript, then readmitting only “the necessary few after careful testing.”
Mr. King famously wrote: The road to hell is paved with adverbs. He did, however, add this:
I can be a good sport about adverbs, though. Yes I can. With one exception: dialogue attribution. I must insist that you use the adverb in dialogue attribution only in the rarest and most special occasions … and not even then, if you can avoid it.
I’m all for active verbs doing the work. Instead of He walked angrily out of the office the better choice is He stormed out of the office.
I am also hostile to adverbs in dialogue attributions. An action beat or the context should show (not tell) how something is said.
Not:
“I’m going to rip your lungs out,” he said threateningly.
This:
He got in my face. “I’m going to rip your lungs out.”
All well and good. The other day, however, I wrote this in my WIP:
He nodded. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I stopped, because what I saw in my mind wasn’t a mere nod. It was one of those exaggerated head bobs you do when you really (adverb!) agree with somebody. I paused and thought about how to “show” rather than “tell” this. But it seemed like overkill, as in:
His head bobbed up and down like an oil rig.
This was not a moment “big” enough for something like that.
Finally, my fingers fighting me somewhat, I wrote:
He nodded heartily. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
This triggered my adverb alarm. I was about to change things again, but started asking some of the essential questions of our trade: Is this going to bother the reader? Is this a “speed bump” or “flab”? Or is it a simple and efficient way to paint the picture I saw in my head and give that to the reader without muss or fuss?
Such are the little things we writers brood about. (Note: I’m not of the ilk that believes the first way you write something is always the best way, the purest way, the way that should never be trifled with. That is an exceedingly misguided view, alarmingly facile, and I mean that most earnestly.)
My advice then is simply, engagingly, and precisely this: Use an adverb only when it does the job faster and more efficiently than any alternative.
Also: Give your readers the respect of a little brooding about your prose.
Do you think readers care? Or is all this talk about “brooding” just a waste of time?
“Do you think readers care? Or is all this talk about “brooding” just a waste of time?”
I’m not sure but I think it’s not as disastrous as we sometimes think, but it’s still important. We want to write our best stories, just like we want to do anything else we do in life to the best of our ability.
This brings up one of my problems. When I have someone read my work for me, it’s always a person who is a writer themselves, therefore they’ve been to all the same types of writing discussions as I have. I would like to find a few readers who are NOT also writers to have them read my work and give feedback. It’s not just about adverbs–it’s about finding out other things about story that plague a non-writing reader–about them helping you catch things you might not even think about.
Having a fellow writer read your work is a wonderful thing, but they can be as jaundiced as we are in the “Do THIS. Don’t do THAT” stuff that we all get caught up in.
As for adverbs particularly, I agree they should be used sparingly, but also think it’s similar to the discussion we’ve heard many times — writers may think using “said” in attribution is repetitive or inappropriate, but readers just read over it — it doesn’t bring attention to itself. I view reasonable use of adverbs the same way.
If you can find such a reader, it’s gold. I used to have my drafts read by two bookstore owners. Invaluable. Until the bookstore went out of business!
Your use of ‘heartily’ doesn’t detract from the story. Whereas nodding up and down like an oil rig would yank me out of the story. You have enough experience to use the adjective without the grammar Nazis sounding an alarm.
I’m reading through all Rosimund Pilcher’s novels and she does a bit of head-hopping, but it doesn’t detract from her amazing and brilliant writing.
Amazing and brilliant writing can cover a multitude of “sins.” And, of course, story and character. Still, I’d rather “go and sin no more” if I can!
“Use an adverb only when it does the job faster and more efficiently than any alternative.”
Jim, what sensible, reasonable advice. We do obsess over the tiniest details (when editing, I’ll debate with myself for 15 minutes wondering whether to use “a” or “the” or “that”). Other writers care but most readers don’t, as long as you tell them a good story w/o speed bumps.
Looking back on books I loved as a young reader, they’re often jam-packed with adverbs and ridiculous attributions (she elucidated, declared, expounded, pontificated). Did those tics bother me then? Nope. Now they make me cringe. I can’t turn off my internal editor.
A good musician misses a note now and then but unless there are so many goofs that the audience notices, it probably doesn’t matter in the overall scope.
I relate to those “15-minute debates,” Debbie, though I try to keep them under five minutes, which I usually can until the last page, which I work on most of all!
Debbie,
I had to laugh because you made me think of a phrase quite commonly used in Zane Grey’s books where a line of dialogue would appear followed by “he ejaculated.” Clearly that term was NOT used or thought of in the same way then that it is now. I wouldn’t want to read that in today’s books, but it didn’t phase me reading Mr. Grey’s books.
Excellent advice, Jim.
I think readers don’t tend to consciously notice adverb usage, but if it’s overdone, I think the weakened writing which can result will make them less caught up in the story. The last thing we writers want is for our writing to get in the way of our readers losing themselves in the fictive dreams we spin.
Right, Dale. The whole thing is weaving that dream. The well-placed adverb won’t pop that bubble. But, as you say, overuse gets noticed, and breaks the trance.
I heartily agree with your post, Jim, and genuinely agree with the comments.
Happy Sunday!
😉
And I’m really, truly, abundantly glad you do!
😂😂😂
I think we forget that many, if not most, of our readers aren’t writers, and they’re oblivious to the things we obsess about. I just finished a book I picked up at Left Coast Crime, written by a “much bigger name than mine” author, and I stopped at the use of creative speaker tags, adverbs, and many more of our little obsessions. This was book 1 in a series, and I don’t know if things “improved” as the books went on, or if this was the author’s voice. Those things that pull us out of the story didn’t stop the author from rave reviews, recommendations by Big Names, and, of course, being published.
I recall an author at a workshop saying adverbs can help readers understand how the words are meant. I prefer a single adverb to a metaphor, which almost always pull me away from the story as I try to visualize what the author meant. Saying his hair stood up like spring grass after a rain has me looking at grass, not the character.
Unless the metaphor is part of the voice, as in First Person hardboiled noir. Even then, unless your name is Raymond Chandler, you must not overdo it.
True that readers don’t read as writers. And writers don’t read as readers. We keep noticing stuff!
I recall someone saying to me, “Now that you’re a writer, you’ll never read the same way again.”
That’s one of the few bummers about writing—it’s rare to be able to read without analyzing.
Do readers care? I’m convinced they many do not, which is why so many poorly written novels sell so well. I’ve picked up some bestsellers in the last few months that I ended up DNFing because the bad writing brought me out of the stories. I’m so glad I checked them out through Libby rather than paying for them. That doesn’t excuse me, however, from striving to write well so readers receive a good, well written story. At least that’s always my goal.
That’s the right goal, Kelly. Even if your goal is to “make money” writing books, you can’t achieve that (to a significant degree) without delivering a good product time after time. Not easy, and no, AI slop isn’t a valid substitute.
I don’t have a problem with the occasional adverb. But like you, Jim, I’m hostile to the little fellas in dialogue attributions. My brain does a neuron hiccup every time I see one of those.
I truly (sorry) love metaphors, but they can be overdone. I started to read a novel a few years ago in which the author used so many bad metaphors in the first chapter, I felt like I had fallen into an alternate universe (the metaverse?). I had to put the book down to get back to reality.
Metaphors need to be like fine brandy, served for sipping, not cheap stuff swizzled. Hey, metaphor!
Interestingly, I discussed using adverbs in dialogue tags Saturday in my conference workshop. I overwhelmingly advised not to use them unless to set a mood.
I read the first chapter of a book recently, and the author did not use “said” one time in the whole chapter. By the time I finished it, I was so tired I had to take a nap. Great post!
Exactly! I’ve heard authors who brag that they didn’t use one “said” in their whole book. But that makes too much effort for the reader to keep up, and tiring is precisely how it feels.
I think readers care if it becomes obvious and repetitive, like a smattering of adverbs, especially in dialogue tags. Otherwise, I doubt they notice one or two per book. Writers who read the same book, however, can spot them a mile away. Best to avoid if possible, as you advised, and painstakingly 😉search for the perfect verb instead.
I’m all for the painstaking search if that makes the book better. I just don’t want it to take too long!
Falling back on my years as a reader, I think writing rules make good guidelines. I can forgive head-hopping if it would be cumbersome to apply a rewrite that avoided it. A dialogue tag other than said can be efficient in some cases. An adverb may be the only recourse with some verbs. Ending a sentence with a preposition may be a lot friendlier to the reader than reconstructing the wording to avoid it. Keeping it to one use in about 20,000 words shouldn’t upset anyone. Even Stephen King.
Chuck
Good advice there, Chuck. 👍
However it comes out of the brain is how it goes on the page – to start.
Then I remove MY tics in the editing phase: the tendency to qualify every thing I mention: ‘a LITTLE BIT of moonlight was visible’, ‘it took him QUITE A WHILE to figure it out’ – all okay once in a great while, but horrible if frequent.
Then I LISTEN to endless reading by the Mac robot voice – if it bothers me I tweak until it doesn’t.
Then it has to pass the AutoCrit counting functions: we are NOT using ‘that’ 29 times in a scene.
All my bad habits get a thorough check – and what is left might be acceptable.
But if I put the brakes on too early, it stops production of words rather than facilitate choices of good ones.
Each of us writers comes to know our flaws.