January 23, 2004
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That is actually good advice to readize.
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(When in doubt, try this mantra: Precise and spare; precise and spare; precise and spare.) *writes on post-it stuck to monitor* another good post, naxosaxur! stripe: Dude! it's absolutely brilliant! I actually think it's really a great thing to incentivize better writing!
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perfectly cromulent advice.
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He read the article and really thought that it warranted commentizing but decided that he really had nothing to say however that really didn't stop him from posting to say "Yo, that be fresh, G" which was saying nothing really.
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Actually, I posted this groundbreakingly innovative article, which literally and completely is an excellent manifestation of incredibly *cromulent* writing guidlines, constantly!
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"Don't use flat writing." "Don't use awkward phrasing." Well... Duh.
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even respected Internet columnists are not immune Oxymoron alert. There's some cringeworthy (empty adverbs etc.) stuff elsewhere on the site. Turgenev... Arendt... ME!! Snort.
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A double Pop-Tart salute! (An annoyingly cliched way to say : "Thank you for that cogent and clever post, Nax.") See, I can learn.
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I started out impressed and got less so the more I read. For one thing, the advice got more dubious and/or obvious (the comma section is both at once); for another, the writing was not good enough to convince me of their expertise. In dialogue, empty adverbs may sound appropriate, even authentic, but that's because they've creeped into American conversation in a trendy way. "Creeped"??
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I'm suprised she didn't mention the 3 words whose overuse can kill a manuscript: This, That, and It, specifically when they refer to nothing. For example: "It is with great pleasure that I have gained the consent of Dorothy Bryant..." what does "it" mean in the sentence, and is "that" useful or necessary? Also, I find the words "have" and "had" are the quickest short-cuts to making sentences passive. Slice out the rubbish and you end up with: "With great pleasure I gained the consent of Dorothy Bryant..."
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For one thing, the advice got more dubious and/or obvious (the comma section is both at once); for another, the writing was not good enough to convince me of their expertise. Doesn't mean she's wrong about adverbs, or any of the other points. Her essay falls into the trap so many other manuals on writing fall into. They are a clear example of of the phrase, "those who cannot do, teach."
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When I write for money, I try to avoid adverbs entirely. Nine times out of ten, you can do it better and cleaner with a good choice of verb. J.K. Rowling is a prime example of adverbs gone mad. It gets baggy.
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"Creeped"?? Maybe crope, or ycrept.
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The cat crept into the crypt and cra...
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ycrapt.
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I dinna ken why Tolkien's not so Baggins-y (or do I mean Bag-ended?) as Rowling, but then my wits are doubtless grown decreepit as the rest of me. Best ye give me the blindfold and the creeped de grace, lads.
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Nah, have a banana cr
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Some of the points are good for making writing "better", but quite a few seem to be aimed at making the writing more to the tastes of the author. For example, though the comma example offered seems awkward, in the context of the story, it probably offers a lot more impact than the "corrected" version would. The rules of grammar can be broken to good effect, as long as they are intentionally broken, and not just through slopiness. The Hamlet example was another stickler for me. Though "be" words should probably be avoided for writing to engage the reader, the whole point of "to be or not to be" is the contrast of choice with something so passive that we don't even think about it. "To live and suffer or to die" would not have the same impact. "Being" is something that just happens; it isn't usually viewed as an intentionally chosen activity. Yet Hamlet's monologue starts out questioning the very value, not of doing, but just plain "being". At best, the page should be approached as a list of things not to do subconsiously, not as a list of things never to do.