Have you ever tried to bluff your way through a conversation with your teenager, pretending you’re an expert on a subject so you can give them advice? Have you ever made up statistics to make sure they remember your warnings about whatever it is you’re worried they might do?
If you say no, hooray for you, awesomely cool and integrity-filled parents! I may have given a few impromptu lectures with far-out examples about having unprotected sex, falling grades, drinking, or just the sassing-your-parents-means-you-won’t-be-able-to-keep-a-job variety. Maybe they saw through me, but I wanted them to believe that I am an expert in all the downsides of those exciting dangers, and I hoped the more I talked and used impressive words, the more they’d believe me.
In much the same way, many of us novice writers overwrite in our insecure attempt to sound like a real writer. We use flowery language or big words so the reader will believe we’re legit. Instead, we produce overwrought writing and get in our own way.
Here are three tips to avoid overwriting traps:
1. Cluttery Language. Choosing a twenty-dollar word when a simple one-dollar word is more authentic to your character. When you can’t choose between three foreboding images to describe a spooky place, so you throw all of them in—in the same sentence. Sometimes new writers add intrusive adverbs to describe the action on the page, instead of simple, powerful verbs in short sentences. That is how you build tension. The rest is clutter, and it gets in your reader’s way.
2. Redundancy. Do you want to be sure your unfinished-teenage-reader’s-brain truly understands how complicated the conflict is, how high the stakes really are, or how forbidden the love is? Repeating the same information using different words, in consecutive sentences, or even on the same page, is just hitting the reader over the head again and again with your pointy-point. It doesn’t add emphasis. It is not effective. It’s just annoying. What’s worse is that it takes focus off of what is most important—the story.
3. How to stop. Carol Lynch Williams teaches her students to look at every single sentence. If it’s not building toward the climax of the story, cut it. Look at each word in a sentence. Get rid of all helping verbs, all -ly adverbs, all passive constructions. Make every—single—word—count. Then give it to your beta readers, ask them to highlight all redundant information, overwritten descriptions, and irrelevant tangents. Then cut. Tighten. Refine. Repeat.
My Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers instructors have told me, “Trust your reader. Let them fill in the gaps. It’s more satisfying for them.” One simple, but unique, description ignites the readers’ imaginations. They subconsciously fill in the details of a setting or a character’s appearance by drawing from their own life’s experiences. It personalizes the story to them.
Finally, when you tell your story, start the movie in the reader’s mind as straightforward as you can. Revise and decorate it later with lovely language if needed. Clear the clutter and let your reader hear the character’s voice, and see the story play out in front of them. Isn’t that what we really want? For them to remember the characters and story long after they turn that last page.
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