Pruning Words and Other Rewrite Joys

I’m nearing the end of my novel rewrite and I’m spending a lot of time pruning words from my text.

It’s made me consider how often I, among others, use too many words–whether in writing or speaking.

My husband occasionally complains that I feel compelled to explain everything.

“It’s not enough you tell the children to do something, you then go on and on and on about why they should do it. You’re prolonging the misery of giving them orders.”

He’s a military officer, of course he would see it that way: short and sweet: “Go!”

I don’t know if this is the difference between male and female; first born and last born, story tellers and actors–but we have a conflict of interest here.

I needed explanations growing up–I wanted more words than I got.

He, apparently, didn’t care.

Our children don’t seem to care either. So, I’ve been pruning words–in my speech–for years.

At least it feels that way to me.

Gardeners will tell you trees need to be pruned for a variety of reasons: to let in air for better circulation, to allow light into the interior of the tree, to cut off excess weight and to balance what a tree looks like. Those are all excellent reasons to prune a manuscript.

And since words are like leaves (and easier to get rid of than sawing off enormous branches of unnecessary scenes), I like to start there.

For more  thoughts on the pruning metaphor, check out my guest post on Jamie Chavez’ blog here.

As a writer, I’m advised to tell the story no matter how many words it takes and then go back–pruning words is a necessary part of editing.

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I’m guilty of far too much explanation in my prose as well my directions to children, but in the last several projects I’ve worked on, word count has been important, so I’ve been pruning words as I go along.

Or now, in the rewrite, slashing at the thicket of unnecessary verbiage to find simpler statements that are

1. easier to understand

2. faster to read

3. and give me more words to use elsewhere.

Here’s an example from my current manuscript:

 “She pawed through the pages, vaguely remembering when he’d talked about sin and feelings.”

Not bad, fourteen words, but I’ve got a limited number and that gerund weakens the sentence.

This is one way to tighten it up:

“She flipped the pages looking for his thoughts on sin and emotions.”

Okay I only saved two words. Let’s try another.

“She has a child to think about and family in England. What good is staying in a desert hut with foul smelling soldiers and grieving followers begging her for wisdom?” (30 words)

How about

“She can take her child home to England. Why stay in the miserable desert with mourners begging for answers to impossible questions? (22 words)

Better or worse?

And a third:

“She drew her niece close and they stood together until Sylvia’s rigid body relaxed and her head drooped naturally to Anne’s shoulder.” (22 words)

I’m narrowing this to:

“Anne hugged Sylvia until her niece’s rigid body relaxed and she sobbed freely.” (13 words)

I can’t decide which works better.

Perhaps it needs to be read in context?

Most writers have a list of “overused” words. Mine includes

that

very

some

just

really

and more.

I like to do a “word census” to determine which words I’m overusing in a manuscript. Click to Tweet

It makes pruning words easier to find.

I’ve written about this on Books & Such’s blog. You can read it here.

The writing program Scrivener provides a word census for those who have it. My husband wrote a utility program for me to use on Microsoft Word, and that’s how I find what I need.

I’ve got quite a bit left to go–pruning words, wise–and so I’ll get back to it.

What words do you overuse–whether in speech or writing? Click to Tweet