Paksworld

Final days of  my work based on the editor’s notes.   What left for NYC already a few thousand words shorter than it had been, is now almost 3000 words shorter than that…and you would not miss one of them.  Well…maybe a half dozen, but you’d have to have read it before.

How do editors and writers decide what to cut?  Well…think of the classic example: Michelangelo saying that to make a statue all you do is cut away the stone that doesn’t belong.    It’s much the same with words, though figuring out what doesn’t belong is a bit tougher.  After all, if you’re carving a cube, and there’s this triangular lump sticking out one side…that doesn’t belong.   If the “David” had chin-wattles, that wouldn’t belong.  But with a story, especially the first of several that share a story arc…does the bit about the pony and the wildcat belong or not?  (There was no bit about the pony and the wildcat: I just made that up.   I made the whole thing up, but you know what I mean…)

It helps that I’m so far along on the second book (one of the many reasons I went on pushing on that one–so I’d know, sort of, what could be safely cut.)  It helps that my editor defined clearly what she and her boss thought needed to be cut (anything that drew too much on the previous books, so they’d not buy this one until they’d bought and read the others. [hint: if you want to read the others first, that’s fine, but buy them now, so this one has decent first-month sales…and yes, that’s crass commercialism…])

“Doesn’t belong” included situations/events/conversations that did not function in more than one way (advancing plot, revealing character, etc.) even though these things actually happened…lots happens that isn’t really part of the story.  It’s out of the frame.   People sit around talking over the past, telling each other stories,  cracking jokes, arguing over whose cook makes the best pastries,  singing.  They trip and fall down; they bump into doors; they make decisions of no consequence (to the story)…and many of these show up in the manuscript.    So those were cut out first.  For me, these are important to write, in part because I don’t outline and thus am not sure where the frame will be…I need to feel that I’ve written beyond whatever frame we apply later.

The first round of fixing and cutting went on together.  But when I’d done all the new stuff, put in the hints that the editor noticed I’d left out (gee, I know it happened…didn’t you?)  and made the editor’s cuts….we still had a lot of words.   Many-many thousands of words.  It was delicately hinted that we needed to do more snippage, if at all possible.

So…what are the tools for the cut direct?

First, kill all the adverbs.   Well, not ALL the adverbs.   95% of the “-ly” adverbs, though, don’t belong.    If you say “He strolled,” you won’t be tempted to say “He walked slowly.”  Note that eliminating adverbs may require a change of verb–just cutting isn’t enough if you want the same precision (even greater precision) in that sentence.   Strong, precise verbs don’t need adverbs; flabby or imprecise verbs do.

Next, cast a cold judicial eye on the adjectives.  Useful and necessary, adjectives, but easy to use instead of the right noun.  If a noun is too general, it attracts adjectives in the hopes of achieving precision.   “The small, plain house, hardly more than a cottage…”   v.  “The cottage…”

Caveat the first:   good writers use adverbs and adjectives, including the “-ly” adverbs, and may at times use an expanded description.    This advice is specifically about cutting words to meet requirements, without weakening the work.

Then  consider “the.”   “The” doesn’t cut many bytes from the file size, but we overuse it.   Even if you can’t cut a given “the”, you may find something better.   “The man walked to the car” gives you less information than “The man walked to his car.”   “The” in front of an adjective defining number is usually unnecessary, unless you’re specifying those particular x-number things.   “The two wires stuck out of a box…”  v. “Two wires stuck out of a box…”   Related to “the” (not grammatically, but practically) is “there”.   “There” sneaks in and then demands a passive/linking verb.  “There were two wires sticking out of the box”  or “There was a castle….”  or “There had been a battle here at some time…”

Long sentences also deserve a second look, as do long paragraphs.   Here’s where you may find words or phrases in minor (or even major) disorder, or simply arranged in a way that takes more words than a different arrangement.   Check them phrase by phrase…do they have an introductory phrase that’s not needed as a transition?  (“Two days later…” is a needed temporal transition marker.   “‘On the chance that Anne had been in town the day the robbery occurred,  Jason asked her if she had seen a purple car on Main street…” could have its initial phrase struck.  Even if Jason thinks, “Was she there?” he could just ask “Anne, did you see a purple car?”)   Is the sentence written in the simplest order?   (Short sentences can be inverted without adding words, but long ones usually have “softening” or “cueing” phrases added when they’re inverted.)

Caveat the second:  Long sentences can be good sentences, and they help with maintaining the desired rhythm, mood, and flow of  a work.   Transitional and “smoothing” phrases (“for example,” “on the other hand,” “as usual,” “as before,”)  help readers stay on track.   But when words must be cut, you’ll find that some of these can go.  Not all, but some.

Check for active voice.    “He was hit by the rock” has two more words than “The rock hit him.”    But apparent active voice isn’t enough:  check for active-verb-evasion.    “He was about to [active verb] or  “–starting to [active verb]”    Infinitives and progressive forms (“was biting,” “were going to bite,”   “They were starting to think they were about to be attacked…”), especially in combination, are both active-voice evasion and mushy writing.    From inside POV,  you’re aware of when your character started/began/was about to do something…but even if you think it necessary to mark that, find another (less wordy and more interesting) way to put it.

Writing mostly in active voice allows you to use passive where it fits–and the passive then has more force.    Writing in active voice does require writers to acquire a vocabulary of strong, specific verbs (and nouns, for that matter, because writing in active voice needs the right noun to go with the right verb.)

Caveat the third:  passive voice is not bad.   Infinitives and progressive forms are not bad.  Gerunds exist for a reason.   Even “there is/was…” may be justified in some situations.  But they are strongest when confined to their proper and necessary uses.   Pruning them away when they’re just a habit will save words and improve the work.   Do you really need to say that someone was starting/beginning/about to do something, or can you just say they’re doing it?  If hesitation at the point of beginning isn’t part of the plot…get on with it.    If the reader will supply the continuation of action,  often a simple past will work instead of the past progressive (and sometimes not–but if you need to save words, try it.)

My very first fiction sale required me to trim a 2300 word story to 1500 words.   Ouch! But I learned a lot, while pruning it word by word to 1497, and one of the things I learned is that I do not actually write 24c. gold words studded with rubies.   (I already knew that if an editor says “I have room for only a 1500 word humorous story”, that’s a hard, final word-count limit. )    A little more time in the smelting process to get rid of more  dross is a really good idea; the story as sold was better than the story I thought perfect at 2300 words.

I’m now a much tighter writer to begin with–my first drafts do not entirely suck rocks, I’ve been told–but though I may be up to 18 carat from 14,  the pure gold is still out there somewhere, and revision gets me closer.