Don’t small changes sound like they should naturally connect to small impact? Listed here are ten small changes with surprisingly potent impact on both nonfiction and fiction.
AND
And is a useful word. It can, however, become as unsightly as duct tape slapping two otherwise lovely elements together. Editors often take issue with the word if it patches two complete–or unrelated–sentences. Once a common practice, long, complex sentences have gone the way of whale oil lamps. Today’s reader prefers shorter paragraphs and shorter sentences (an example of an acceptable use of the word and). Consider too that and can sometimes serve as the first word of a sentence, as long as it doesn’t appear too frequently as the opening word.
Patched sentence: He turned to leave the room and on his heels were the two dogs he’d chosen over his children.
Preferred and more potent: He turned to leave the room. On his heels were the two dogs he’d chosen over his children.
BUT
The word but is obviously necessary in storytelling. Its overuse can weaken its impact.
Okay: The principal’s executive assistant majored in efficiency, but no one could accuse her of excessive kindness.
Stronger: The principal’s executive assistant majored in efficiency. No one could accuse her of excessive kindness.
SMILE
Novelists lean heavily on words like smile, grin, laugh, giggle, chuckle to express a character’s reaction. If a word like smile pops up again and again on the page, it will start to stand out as if written in bold font. It will draw attention to itself rather than keeping the reader in the flow of the story. The writer who uses imagination and creativity to find alternate expressions–or even other body language or action beats–to show what the word smile intends to convey will avoid letting the word become a stumbling block to good storytelling.
REPETITION
The reader’s mind is the force subconsciously at work when a single word is found repeated in proximity to its past use. Take a look at the example below that highlights the potent impact of a small change.
The lawyer took a brief look at the brief before him before removing his glasses and making eye contact with his client.
The lawyer glanced at the brief in his hands. With all the drama of a first year theater student, he removed his glasses and made eye contact with his client.
ITS/IT’S
All writers inadvertently slip up with the use of its versus it’s. Readers, editors, and agents will appreciate the writer who conquers the dilemma once and for all. What some have found helpful for making one of those small changes with breakthrough potential is to consider the apostrophe in it’s as if it were the letter I in the two-words it is. In the word its, the S sticks to the word it, signifying possession.
It’s (it is) no wonder high school teachers are more stressed than ever.
Its (ownership, possession) correlation to student stress is clear.
YOUR/YOU’RE
This is another small change with big consequences for readers and industry professionals. Again, it’s (it is) easy to slip up, but a pattern of misusing either of these words is unprofessional for writers. Simply said, the apostrophe in you’re represents the missing letter A in you are. The letters in your are stuck together, no spacing, indicating possession.
You’re (you are) about to embark on an enchanting journey that will improve your (ownership, possession) writing when you conquer this hiccup.
UH/UM
Although uh and um are parts of speech (or lack of it) common in our communication patterns, they can be almost entirely eliminated in fiction dialogue and in nonfiction quotes. Find creative ways to show (not tell) that the character in fiction or subject of the nonfiction is stumbling, pausing, hesitating, or thinking.
OH/WELL
Similarly, beginning a sentence with oh or well, although not unlike how we talk, is unnecessary and pace-slowing.
Rather than: “Oh, well, I thought we could order delivery and watch a movie.”
Try: “I thought we could order delivery and watch a movie.”
SO
So is one of those words that will rise from the page as if shouting at the reader if used too frequently. If the word can be eliminated without weakening the sentence, it will likely strengthen the sentence.
Okay: On the worst Monday of all Mondays, my car battery died a quick, fanfare-less death. So I called for an Uber and prayed my boss had gotten stuck in traffic.
Better, stronger: On the worst Monday of all Mondays, my car battery died a quick, fanfare-less death. I called for an Uber and prayed my boss had gotten stuck in traffic.
JUST
You’ve heard it before. Just just doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s (it is) a filler word supposedly meant for emphasis. Instead, it de-emphasizes what we intend to say.
Weaker: If he just knew how much trouble he’d caused me, he wouldn’t have dared gloss over his mistake.
Stronger: If he knew how much trouble he’d caused me, he wouldn’t have dared gloss over his mistake.
The point? Small changes, a letter or two, a word or two, can have great impact in our writing. What small change have you made that affected your writing in a positive way?
Realistic Goals for Writers
There are just too many ‘ands’,
not to mention excess ‘buts’;
I cannot smile, just wring my hands,
for its driving me quite nuts,
and if you knew just knew how upset
I am about what seems so small,
you’re first thought would be to get
a drink for me (please make it tall).
So I’ll now refrain from reading
books that well, um, hold these blunders,
to keep my heart from sorely bleeding
as it desperately wonders
if your seeing, looking through
my words, well, that I do ’em too.
“Great” writing, Andrew! 🙂 Made me…er…um…smile!
These are such a great reminder, Cynthia. Thank you! Lately, I’ve been writing for younger audiences. The small changes I’ve been making to polish my prose involve shorter sentences and taking out many of the examples you gave above. Simple, clean writing is easier for a young audience. You’ve reminded me that an older audience appreciates it as well!
Thank you, Kristen. Great points about what appeals to both older and younger readers these days.
Thank you, dear Cynthia, for taking time to show us examples of how to make powerful changes. These will help us edit better.
Editing out I has shown me that when it comes to good writing, less of them is more.
This post is a keeper. (I love the pictures too.)
Blessings – Wendy Mac
Thanks for your comment about the pictures. I wrestled with how to illustrate the concept, but each one of these seemed to almost poetically do that! 🙂
This list is great! I printed it out and will post it right by my desk. Fortunately, I’m not guilty of all these “sins” in my writing. 🙂 Thank you.
If you have the listed posted, soon NONE of them will be an issue anymore. 🙂
Thanks for these great tips, Cynthia! I wish I’d had this list last week! LOL
I plan to continue editing my manuscript with these small changes in mind. Have a great Thanksgiving!
Laughing, Deena. 🙂 It was great to talk to you!
Thanks! Great talking with you as well
The issue of repetition has come up a lot in our critique group. In my W-I-P, a YA novel, I have the protagonist ponder, “What to do, what to do” No one else likes it, though I do, as a slightly poetic emphasis on his puzzlement.
On the other hand, I found an example of bad repetition of a word in Taylor Caldwell’s “I Judas”. At a point in the narrative she has, “He smiled mirthlessly.” I thought that was a good use of a word I’d never heard used in a sentence. But then, 20 pages later, she had, “He smiled mirthlessly” twice on the same page. It was quite jarring.
Yes, David. And that’s the clincher. Is it intentional (What to do? What to do?) or unintentional (like He smiled mirthlessly…and then smiled mirthlessly again…and again…) 🙂
I am not as old as a traditional oil lamp (I’m 48) but I do not enjoy this fashion for shorter sentences. Frankly, I find it dull and simply another form of repetition. Punch, punch, punch, with no nuance, no shade, no subtlety, and little variation. And with no respect for or expectation of the reader. By the latter, I mean, the fashion appears to assume that the reader has the attention span of a pregnant goldfish. Or of a Twitterer and no more.
It strikes me above all, using the examples given in the post, with the “but” example. The two separate sentences about the principal’s executive assistant are dull, and they are tone-deaf, hitting on the brain like hammer strikes. The longer sentence, joining the two ideas into one with “but”, has character, irony, deeper meaning, because of the juxtaposition WITHIN the sentence.
It is not that a sentence should contain a subject and a verb and no more, except perhaps, if we’re very lucky, an object. A Twitter post is not a novel. A sentence should convey a single IDEA, and if the idea is two-fold, that is the PURPOSE of conjunctions. And we should have enough respect for our readers to think that they can handle a two-fold idea.
And therein lies the rub! 🙂 Not only that readers have varying tastes in the kinds of writing they want to read, but that what’s required is NOT for the author make the text simplistic, but to call out the author’s ability to create nuance within fewer words. Ultimately, though, our primary goal is communication. Many complete sentences that are patched together with conjunctions run out of the steam they’re trying to build before it reaches the core message of the sentence. That’s especially true with conjoined sentences that aren’t related. In a way, we’re enhancing the rhythm of the text. Perhaps adding more drama, too.
It’s fascinating to examine where the brain travels while reading. GENRE makes a huge difference too. An action scene of a thriller will of necessity be comprised of very short, clipped sentences because the sentence length itself is part of the tempo. A more pastoral historical scene may linger over words, because that slower pacing, too, provides backdrop.
I found it an interesting observation, Catherine, that “The two separate sentences about the principal’s executive assistant are dull, and they are tone-deaf, hitting on the brain like hammer strikes.” But those same words, those same sentences had character, nuance, deeper meaning with the addition of the word “but” between them. Same words. We can each hold to our own opinions about it, but in keeping the sentences separate, I was creating a slight pause, trusting that the reader would catch the irony in how each of the two sentences ended.
Thanks for your comments.
Yes, I think it comes back to the point that the role of a sentence is to express one idea. Some ideas are more complex than others, but they shouldn’t necessarily be divided up into parts or fragments simply for the sake of having shorter sentences. Conversely, yes, two ideas that are not related should not be conjoined into one sentence.
On the principal’s executive assistant again, the words are nearly the same, merely with or without a “but”. So nuance within fewer words is not really an issue. The issue is more that what is expressed or conveyed is not the same. With the “but” it is one idea; without the “but” it is it two separate ideas.
A reader may decide there is irony in the two sentences, if they connect the fragments themselves. But when the idea is split across two sentences, the connection is not conveyed in the writing. It is as though the speaker has not made the connection and found irony. The speaker has simply jumped from one thought or idea to the next, like a Twitterer.
If, as an author, we want our character to convey the irony, and comprehension of it, the thing is clearer written as one sentence. If a slight pause is required, that is the purpose of the comma placed before the “but”. The purpose of a full stop is to signify that one idea has ended and a new idea is about to begin.
I think you’ve hit the nail on the head also with your point about genre. Shorter sentences do often create more tension and a faster pace. They punch hard and fast. But that certainly is not what we want all the time.
And I would say, it isn’t simply a question of genre. Within that thriller, the action scene benefits from shorter sentences, and shorter sentences probably suit the ideas as well, which are likely to be simpler and more pointed, one after the other. However the same thriller probably has many other scenes where we don’t want that much tension and that fast a pace, and the ideas are more complex. Otherwise, the book would become one-note. That rhythm you mentioned would be repetitive and dull. Equally, a historical romance would have scenes needing more tension and faster pace than the one pastoral scene.
Short sentences have their place, but I don’t think we should (over-)emphasise that they are what readers want or prefer – at least, not unless we have conducted polls and gathered statistics to be able to say so. And we shouldn’t sacrifice our expression and what we want to convey to shorter sentences. Readers buy books with shorter sentences if that is what is on offer. It doesn’t mean shorter sentences is all they want or prefer.