Cutting Unnecessary Words in Fiction

I heard once that when asked how he sculpted, Rodin said, “I look at a stone, and then knock away everything that isn’t statue.”

I think that’s a pretty good metaphor for line editing fiction. When line editing, you knock away any words that aren’t in service of the story. Most writing is usually stuffed with unnecessary words. You just need to turn that critical eye toward your sentences.

Obviously adverbs are problematic because they are usually masking a shorter, stronger sentence.

            He ran quickly out of the room.

Ran quickly? We have a word that means that. Write instead:

            He sprinted out of the room.

I think it was Stephen King who said that anytime you think you’re finished, go back and cut 10% from the manuscript. So, you have a 10 thousand-word story? Well, Stephen King says you should be able to cut 1k words. Obviously that would probably take cutting some verbose scenes or even unnecessary scenes, but some of that is simply cutting words that aren’t in service of the story.

My father, John Vande Zande (you can still find copies of his short story collection Night Driving if you look) had a poet friend named Phil Legler. When Phil was working on poems, he’d share drafts with my father. It fascinated my dad how each version of the poem was subsequently shorter, but better.

“You poets,” my dad said, “you’d cut poems down to one word if you could.”

“If we only could find the right word, John, we would,” Phil said.

Of course, fiction isn’t poetry (though at its best it has a poetic quality). You need words to tell a story (good luck selling that one-word novel!).

But, you often don’t need as many words as you think. What our manuscripts are littered with are what I call “first draft” sentences. And somehow, draft after draft, those first-draft sentences keep lingering… until we truly turn a critical eye on them.

When my first collection of short stories came out, a reviewer praised the stories but panned the clunky style. He even quoted the opening line of a story to talk about how many words could be cut.

The opening line from my story “Trainee”:

            He always seemed to try to do everything very fast.

He claimed as many as six words could be cut. My first reaction was “shut up, what do you know?” But then I spent some time studying that sentence and realized what it should have been:

            He did everything quickly.

Not only does that take a 10-word sentence down to 4, but now the brevity (the quickness of the sentence) echoes the quickness being commented upon in the sentence.

I credit that reviewer to giving me a sharp eye when it comes to line editing. I never looked at my fiction the same again after that review.

And, one thing that I noticed that I do and many writers do is that we account for how stimulus comes into our character’s existence. Let me give an example:

            He saw a black cat slink across his path.

In this instance, the writer, by making “saw” the main verb, is essentially telling the reader that the main character used his eyes to take in the black cat.

But, what if the sentence were this?

            A black cat slinked across his path.

First, now the main verb becomes “slinked” … and storytelling-wise, the verb is your most powerful word. But, also, is there any doubt that the main character is seeing the cat? No. Vision is implied by this sentence without having to state it. No reason to say he saw the cat, when the seeing is implicit in the sentence.

As writers, I think we account for the senses quite a bit… especially in first drafts.

            She heard an owl scream into the night.

Should be…

            An owl screamed into the night.

(Again, is there any other way to take in a scream except through hearing or the ears?)

            She smelled apple pie in the air when she walked in the door.

Should be…

            The aroma of apple pie permeated the foyer when she walked in.

First, “permeated”… much better verb! And, again, the smelling of the aroma is implied, so no reason to tell the reader it was “smelled" or that the nose was used.

Of course, it’s important to activate the senses, and I’m often telling my students to get a range of senses into their work. Don’t just tell us what they see, but work in smells, sounds, touch, and even taste when applicable.

But, that doesn’t mean you have to account for what sense was used to take in the stimulus.

This happens in other ways too.

            Suddenly, he decided he’d turn around and drive back to his friend’s house.

Should be…

            Suddenly, he turned around and drove back to his friend’s.

I cut three words, and his “decision” to turn around is implied, so really no need to say he made this decision when the reader clearly experiences him making the decision without ever being told it was a decision.

Or…

            I remembered that near the end of his life, my father took up gardening out of the blue.

Should be (especially in a first person narrative)…

            Out of the blue, my father took up gardening near the end of his life.

Now, again, in the context of the story, we’ve probably already learned that the father is deceased. So, the fact that this is a memory is implied. No need to tell the reader it’s a memory through “remembered” when it’s clearly a memory.

Culling through your work with an eye toward cutting these words that account for how stimulus comes onto your character’s radar can often see you cutting 100 to 500 unnecessary words from your manuscript, depending on the length. And, often, it has you using sharper verbs, too.

Slowly but surely, you’re chipping it down to just statue… masterpiece.

If you find my blog posts instructive, please consider purchasing a copy of my new book of short stories, The Neighborhood Division, as a donated payment for the "class."

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