What have I done?
Look, February’s 20/20 was heckin’ hard. We almost died trying to get our story down to wordcount. The good news is, that’s the tightest wordcount you’re going to have all year. The bad news is… we’re still taking away your words, just in a whole new way.
Ready?
March’s assignment is: rewrite your story with a maximum of 25 descriptors (adjectives and adverbs). (Maximum wordcount for your submission: 1,000 words)
The whys and hows:
When you’re telling a story, you want the reader to see what you see and feel what you feel. That’s what description is, right? On the other hand, the overuse of adjectives and adverbs can lead to florid, purple prose. So where’s the balance? Shaving away some of your descriptors forces you to select your words for precision and can help you “show, not tell.”
What we’re looking to eliminate/reduce:
- adjectives modifying nouns
-
-ly adverbs modifying verbs
- participles, or verbals that function as adjectives (but participle phrases are okay)
What we are not looking to eliminate:
- adjectives that function as part of a specific noun: cocktail napkin (vs square napkin), combat boots (vs leather boots)—see the difference?
- adjectives or adverbs embedded in phrases (“happy birthday,” “sweet dreams”)
- adverbs of time (“sometimes,” “often”), place (“there,” “everywhere”), or degree (“more”)
I’ll be honest: I thought this assignment was going to be a breeze. How many descriptors do I use, anyway? Maybe 20 or 30 in 1000 words? I went through my story and highlighted each and every adjective and adverb, then counted them. Turns out, I had about 80 of them. Yikes. So I took out my red pen and got to work. Here’s my process—your mileage may vary!
The first thing I did was identify the adjectives that were crucial to the story. For example, in my story there are three incidental characters who correspond to three horsemen in the the original Baba Yaga fairy tale; without mentioning the color of their clothing, that correlation might be lost, or at least more tenuous.
Next I looked for those pesky -ly adverbs. In most cases, you can change a “verb-adverb” pair into something more active, e.g., “tiptoed” or “sneaked” vs “walked softly.” I did pretty well here, only needing to replace a couple of words.
In a similar way, I looked at passive constructions to see if I could make them more active. For example, I replaced “the club is confusing” with “the club’s layout confuses me.” It added an extra word to the story, but it eliminated the adjective and injected a little extra energy into the passage.
Finally I went for the trickier descriptions. “She sets a green twig to smoldering under an overturned glass” became “she flips a glass over and sets a twig to smoldering underneath it.” Again, my word count went up, but I like the active nature of the new sentence.
A few tips and tricks I learned on the way:
- Look for places where you use multiple adjectives instead of one. Instead of “sweet and sticky,” try “cloying.”
- Sometimes trimming out the adjective actually makes the sentence clunkier. Consider upgrading that descriptor to “necessary” and keeping it in place.
- Active verbs have nuances. “Tiptoed” is different than “slunk,” which is different from “padded.” Make sure you choose the one with the connotation you need.
- When in doubt, keep the spirit of the exercise in mind. We’re trying to avoid overly verbose descriptions and encourage creative workarounds. But sometimes the story’s voice or rhythm of a particular passage requires an adjective or adverb. Roll with it. Descriptors are like salt: too much can ruin a dish, but too little makes it bland.
- Remember, 25 words is the goal, but don’t stress out if you don’t hit it. Do the best you can, and post your actual number at the end.
Need a second pair of eyes to see what you might have missed? Don’t be afraid to ask for help in the Coffeehouse!
Good luck! Show us what you’ve got.
Loading InLinkz ...Hindsight!
In case you missed it, here's a look back (see what we did there?) at the exercises in our 2020 workshop.
January: Write a story or essay in 1,000 words
February: Write the same piece in 100 words
March: Retain just 25 adjectives and adverbs from your original 1,000 word story
April: Write your story or essay using only dialogue
May: Write your story or essay from a different point of view
June: Write your story or essay in 2,000 words
July: Write your story or essay out of chronological order
August: Record your story or essay and transcribe it
September: Write your story or essay using a different voice
October: Write a poem using your story or essay as inspiration
November: Write a version of your story set in an alternate universe.
December: Write the final version of your story or essay in 1000 words.
About the author:
Christine Hanolsy is a (primarily) science fiction and fantasy writer who simply cannot resist a love story. She joined the YeahWrite team in 2014 as the microstory editor and stepped into the role of Editor-In-Chief in 2020. Christine was a 2015 BlogHer Voices of the Year award recipient and Community Keynote speaker for her YeahWrite essay, “Rights and Privileges.” Her short fiction has been published in a number of anthologies and periodicals and her creative nonfiction at Dead Housekeeping and in the Timberline Review. Outside of YeahWrite, Christine’s past roles have included Russian language scholar, composer, interpreter, and general cat herder. Find her online at christinehanolsy.com.
About the author:
Rowan submitted exactly one piece of microfiction to YeahWrite before being consumed by the editorial darkside. She spent some time working hard as our Submissions Editor before becoming YeahWrite’s Managing Editor in 2016. She was a BlogHer Voice of the Year in 2017 for her work on intersectional feminism, but she suggests you find and follow WOC instead. In real life she’s been at various times an attorney, aerialist, professional knitter, artist, graphic designer (yes, they’re different things), editor, secretary, tailor, and martial artist. It bothers her vaguely that the preceding list isn’t alphabetized, but the Oxford comma makes up for it. She lives in Portlandia with a menagerie which includes at least one other human. She tells lies at textwall and uncomfortable truths at CrossKnit.
