Learning to Write Tight
Tighten up your writing with these suggestions by crime novelist Debbie Burke.
Are you someone who opens up a new box of flatpack furniture, tosses away the instructions and sets to with an Allen key and a screwdriver with only a crappy jpeg of the completed product as your final vision?
I think we can safely say life is pretty unstable at the moment and a few simple instructions can help ground our vision or, at the very least, extend a helping hand when going forward seems impossible. They can also help get that furniture made in half the time.
How to Write Tight
AN EMAIL POPPED into my inbox a couple of weeks ago entitled 12 Tips to Write Tight. I'm someone who needs instructions. I like instructions. I love Top Tips or How To posts. I love how positive and optimistic they are. I like to think they are written by a person with a generous heart, who wishes to share their wisdom with the rest of the internet. I also know they are very clickable and an SEO barn-stormer. As a signed-up member of the general public, I have no problem learning from others far more expert than I, particularly when it comes to creative writing. 12 Tips to Write Tight? I'm all in.
Delete the Puff
IN THE 12 Tips article, crime novelist Debbie Burke takes us by the hand, point by point, showing us where and how we can make small changes to improve the larger whole of our story. She begins with the advice a young, now famous author received from an editor:
“I got a scribbled comment that changed the way I rewrote my fiction once and forever. Jotted below the machine-generated signature of the editor was this mot: “Not bad, but PUFFY. You need to revise for length. Formula: 2nd Draft = 1st Draft – 10%. Good luck.”
— Stephen King in On Writing
So how do you delete the puff? I look up puffy on dictionary.com. I enjoy reading the meanings of words I think I know:
gusty
short-winded; panting
inflated, distended, or swollen
fat; plump
conceited
bombastic
For what it's worth when I think of the word 'puffy', I think of the Jet-Puffed marshmallows I buy in Safeway to make smores over the coals of a finished barbeque. They squish perfectly when hot between two crisp chocolate biscuits; soft and squidgy, oozy and sweet. I wonder about my writing. The wordy soft sentences camouflage a more substantial form. How do I work out what is the puff and what is the biscuit?
In the spirit of experimentation, to work out the puff from the biscuit, I decide to edit a short piece of my writing using some of Burke’s suggestions. I choose one of my responses to Dangerous Cliffs. Not my finest piece of work but I'm going with it anyway. Some things are worth the practice.
1. Search and destroy "junk" words
I love this. There are many words I rely on heavily when my brain can't think of anything more interesting. I've already taken out seven uses of 'that' I didn't need right here in this post. I use 'just' more than I should and 'only' pops up when I just can't think of anything else. (See what happened there?) Burke describes her list as The Dirty Dozen Junk Words. She takes us through them and explains the reasons why these words are so lacking in imagination. Taking the time to edit out these words will make your writing stronger and tighter. Let's look at my favourite 'just'.
'Just often sounds like a weasely kid's excuse: "Honest, Mom, I was just borrowing money from your purse." Sure, you were.'
Okay. Point taken.
2. Clear, direct sentences
Even ornate prose needs a clear form and structure. Maybe it just takes more work. Dammit. I've done it again.
3. De-was
Burke advises us to take every version of the verb 'to be' - was, is, were, had been and try to arrange the sentence actively.
For example in the first draft of Dangerous Cliffs, I changed the sentence:
Heat flushed through Alan's cheeks which were hidden by the thick dark stubble of a three-day-old beard.
to:
Alan's three-day-old stubble hid the flush of heat rising through his cheeks.
Better, yes?
4. Delete words that are not absolutely necessary
Burke urges us to comb through our sentences and uncover any unnecessary words. Pair them with your delete key. Delete. Delete. Delete. My advice? Read your writing out loud. You'll find the lumps and bumps in your prose when you stumble over them. They're like uncomfortable rocks in the road.
5. But don't cut too much
Careful. Burke advises us not to be too scissor-happy. Your writing still needs to make sense to your readers. Don't delete information that is essential to your story. If it's not working think of how you can re-write it.
6. Tight writing doesn't mean slashing whole chapters or paragraphs
'Editing is like pruning a tree with clippers rather than going at it with a chainsaw.'
I've never written anything long, certainly not the length of a novel, not yet anyway. I love the idea that editing can be gentle and thoughtful. Although I do wonder if on occasion it's okay to brandish a chainsaw. Think of the power!
7. Substitute action tags for dialogue tags
Here's my first version:
"Alan?" said Cheryl. She touched his arm and peered at the map with him.
Edited:
"Alan?" Cheryl touched his arm, peering at the map.
Five fewer words. A third less puff.
There are five more tips to help you on your way to a stronger piece of work. I encourage you to read the full post over here. I will leave you with my final edited version of Dangerous Cliffs. A seminal piece of work in the short form of 230 words, first published last year. See if you can work out what I’ve changed. It’s a bit like Spot the Difference. Only less interesting.
Happy editing.
Dangerous Cliffs
The small walking group came to a halt by the low sign at the edge of the clifftop.
Alan pulled out a map and unfolded it to the point he thought they stood. A low hum of chatter rumbled through the waiting group.
"Alan?" Cheryl touched his arm, peering at the map. Her breath felt warm on his hand.
"Which way do you think?" she said.
Alan's three-day-old stubble hid the flush of heat rising through his cheeks. The map shook a little in his hand.
"Cheryl?"
"Yes?" she said.
"I think -, "
He cleared his throat as if to announce something. Sweat trickled down his forehead.
"Sorry, I'm - ” he said. “Nothing. I - I can't remember."
"Which way to the cabin?" said Cheryl, her voice gentle and kind.
"Yes," he said. "Of course. Thank you. Yes. The cabin. I remember now."
Alan packed away his map and tucked it into the plastic wallet he hung around his neck.
"Be careful of the cliffs," he said, waving his arm towards the DANGEROUS CLIFFS sign. "I don't want to lose any of you over the edge."
Cheryl giggled. Alan glanced at her and smiled. He cleared his throat again before stepping out ahead of the group.
"On we go," he said.
Alan walked ahead with a confident spring in his step. Cheryl hurried up behind him.
