Adverbs: I Finally Get It.

I wrote the first draft of my very first story in complete, blissful ignorance. I'm telling you guys, this is the way to write. I thought I was the best. writer. ever.

Luckily, when I started researching agents online--the day after I finished my draft--I also came across a lot of valuable information on writing and realized I was far from ready to send my baby out into the wild.

One of the things I kept reading was the evil of adverbs. I didn't get it.

Then, I came across a blog post explaining it. I wish I could remember the blog I read it on, because they explain it better than I can, but pretty much they said that adverbs are a stand-in for weak writing. When you use an adverb, you spare yourself the need to show the emotion or action you're trying to portray, but you also spare your reader the need to care or imagine.

I read my first draft to my kids with this advice in mind, and it mostly made sense. Plus, have you ever tried to read something out loud when it's riddled with adverbs? Those suckers are hard to spit out!

I was still a bit confused, though. I mean, I like the occasional adverb myself, but some people shun them entirely. It all made sense, though, when I read a certain book (which will remain unnamed) the other day.

You guys. The adverbs in this thing. Not only were there over 1000 (yay, Kindle search feature!) but some of them were really weird. Understandingly. Scoldingly. Exasperatedly. Defeatedly. I understand these are real words, but they're kind of like the tweens of the English language: so awkward. And distracting all lined up in a row like that.

I was so entertained by this blatant use of adverbs, though, that I started reading the story out loud to my husband. He could only take about one page, after we counted eight adverbs in one paragraph and three in one sentence. He asked me how I would change the sentence structure to get rid of the adverb but keep the same meaning. In almost every instance, the solution was to just drop the adverb and let the context do the talking. If the showing-not-telling is in good shape (which is was in this story, I should point out), the adverbs aren't needed. It's like the Hulk saying, "I'm ridiculously, unequivocally, resoundingly, unabashedly ANGRY!" And we're like, "Yeah, Hulk, we know. You're green." See? No adverbs needed.

 

Avoidance and my new hobby.

Sometimes, I avoid my beloved stories like the plague.  Usually, it's when one of the characters does something I wasn't expecting, and I screech petulantly, "Why would you DO that to me??"  Then, I read other writing blogs, check Facebook every 20 seconds to see what everyone else is up to, click between my inboxes with carpal-tunnel inducing speed, and scarf down a package of Peachies so fast I don't even taste them.  (And then later that evening I accuse Rex of eating them all, until...Oh.  There's the evidence still scattered across my desk like a car wreck.)

So, what does this mean for you?  Well, since Whats-her-name came back a scene early and Who's-his-face decided to say this instead of that, I found some really cool links!

This one comes courtesy of my friend Christine (who may or may not have avoidance issues of her own), and this one is a goldmine.  And when I say goldmine, I of course mean the kind with a diamond-encrusted entryway, platinum chairs in the waiting area (preeeety sure all legit goldmines have waiting rooms.  For, you know.  Waiting to mine your gold.), and chocolate everything else.

I think we can see from this little exercise that analogies aren't my strong suit.

A big part of writing a story is not telling when you should be showing.  For example, instead of saying, "Jerusha was really sad." you could say something like, "Tears prickled around the edges of Jerusha's eyelids."  Or sumpin.

It's not always easy to add variety to your showing.  I tend to show a lot of blushing, eye rolling, and sighing.  Well, no more!  The Bookshelf Muse has an emotion thesaurus chock full of different ways to show emotion.  Seriously, I refer to this blog everyday.  (Or at least, days I'm not avoiding.)  Not only that, but they have a settings thesaurus (although, darn, no goldmine, I just checked), a colors, shapes and textures thesaurus, and a symbolism thesaurus.  Seriously, the work they've put into this blog is amazing.  While you're there, check out their Seven Cardinal Sins of Writing.

Gold. mine.

And speaking of goldmines, are you reading Nathan Bransford's blog? No?

Read it. 

Goldmine.

Is that word sounding weird to anyone else?