If you were in a high school English class in the US in the
last few decades, then chances are good that you’ve been told about two of the
most hated and pernicious plagues of English writing: the passive voice and
overuse of adverbs. We’ll talk about the passive voice another day; today we’re
going to discuss adverb abuse.
First, to all of those English teachers who have spent
decades trying to hammer this concept—that adverbs weaken writing and should be
avoided—into the minds of their students: good job! To be honest, I
almost never have a problem with the amounts of adverbs that I find in the
manuscripts I’m given. My impression is that the current crop of would-be
professional writers has learned this lesson well.
If you’ve never heard of this problem, here’s the breakdown:
adverbs are words that modify verbs, adjectives, or other adverbs (or even
entire sentences). You can usually pick them out by the –ly ending.
Modifying a verb: He stumbled awkwardly up the hill.
Modifying an adjective: Ashley was overly cautious and tended to frustrate her friends.
Modifying another adverb: The quarterback was playing very poorly.
Modifying a sentence: Fortunately,
we were able to get the car started again.
The problem with adverbs is that they can be redundant, can
lengthen sentences to awkward proportions, or can be a crutch for lazy writers to
lean on.
However, they aren’t necessarily as evil as your English teacher (and
Steven King) might have made them seem.
They’re a part of the English language for a good reason, and they can
be used to good effect—you just need to learn to use them well. Here’s some tips:
Avoid redundant
adverbs: This is one of the primary ways in which adverbs weaken writing—they
tend to be repetitive and redundant. Here’s some examples:
My stomach
growled hungrily.
She smiled happily.
He stumbled awkwardly up the hill.
We don’t need to be told that a stomach growls hungrily—hunger is what the stomach
growl indicates in the first place. Look how much stronger these sentences
become without the adverbs:
My stomach growled.
She smiled.
He stumbled up
the hill.
Remember: longer or more complex doesn’t mean better. If an adverb isn’t adding new
and unique information to the sentence, it should be removed.
Ask yourself—is this
adverb the focal point of the sentence?
Even if an adverb isn’t redundant, you should take a moment to consider:
do I really need it? The best adverbs are the crux of the sentence, conveying
the information on which the sentence turns. For instance, from earlier:
Ashley was overly cautious and tended to frustrate
her friends.
The fact that Ashley is too
cautious is the point of the sentence. Without that adverb, this sentence would
be uncertain. Are Ashley’s friends appropriately-cautious people who are
frustrated by her extreme caution, or are they frustrated because she is
responsible and they are actually incautious?
The adverb distinguishes the meaning of the entire sentence, and could be worth
keeping.
Weird, right? |
Avoid intensifiers:
Most adverbs that modify other adverbs are intensifiers—words that add
intensity. Very, extremely, and really are examples of intensifiers that
are over-used. More often than not (but not always), they can be dropped without
hurting the sentence.
Avoid coupling
adverbs with “said” in dialog: I’d guess that four times out of five, when
an editor gets annoyed with a writer’s overuse of adverbs, it’s because they
did this:
“No, I don’t want
to,” she said quickly.
“You’re wrong!”
he said loudly.
“Let’s get out of
here,” he said quietly.
This formula (said
+ adverb) should be avoided. On rare occasions (very rare occasions), it
will be the best way to get information across—the rest of the time, it’s just
going to annoy any editors you submit to. Get rid of it wherever possible.
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