Language Matters

Most of us go through our lives reiterating the same overused expressions and listless vocabulary. If we’re writers, hopefully we’ve made an effort to expand our language skills beyond the norm. But even writers can get slothful. How often do we actually dig for the perfect word or most meaningful expression?

English is ripe with juicy phrases and luscious language. As creatives we need to enrich and expand our lexicon to include those words that embrace deeper meaning and capture the fullness of our intentions.

Of course, we all seek to be understood and don’t want our readers to exit the story because the vocabulary is too rich for their tastes. They shouldn’t have to use a dictionary to decipher our writing. But words don’t have to be difficult in order to hold significance. Consider the opening of A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. Chances are we all probably know every word in that paragraph. Yet, each phrase is sculpted to perfection, and the cadence of cause reverberates through the words.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way—in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

At their best words embody their meaning and have the power to evoke a vision, a thought or emotion, perhaps even a purpose that speaks to the soul. And the way we string them together with our hopes and dreams, our immortal turns of phrase, can summon the stirrings of our finer selves and echo for eternity.

We can’t all be Dickens nor should we try, but we can bring the fullness of our own power to the writing. Sometimes we have to stretch readers toward more savory, sumptuous fare and flavor our manuscripts with luxurious phrasing, succulent synonyms, and pithy passages. Consider sprinkling your tale or tome with just the perfect mix of scintillating expressions and captivating word choice. Don’t just settle for the first thing that pops into your mind. Sit with the sentence, the paragraph, the passage and help the vocabulary to sing and the phrasing to waltz (or tango, salsa, rumba, etc., depending on your intentions).

If you’re a writer, especially one who creates fiction, invest in the use of words rich with texture and connotation. Infuse even more mundane language with uplifting turns of phrase that enliven the story and express your character’s truth.

My best advice as an editor is to read the classics to absorb the atmosphere that beautiful language can create. Don’t copy the style. We each must rely on our own inner voice. But pay attention to the means by which those great writers engage the reader both with language and style.

Editing Tips 3: Very Contrary

Ah, if I had a dollar for every time I’ve had to remove “very” from a manuscript, I would be a much wealthier woman. It’s such an overused word.

In dialog, using “very” is not an issue, of course. We often speak it, after all. Otherwise, unless it really needs to be there, I generally remove “very” and remind my clients to avoid this adverb as much as possible. Instead of “very happy,” a writer could use “ecstatic.” Here are a couple of quotes I share with my clients on this subject:

“Avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired; he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad; use morose.” ― N.H. Kleinbaum

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very;’ your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” ―Mark Twain

I agree with Kleinbaum and Twain/Clemens on this subject. “Very” is a weak word that detracts from the word it modifies rather than adding to it. Consider using a stronger, more meaningful word that requires no modifier. Here are a few possibilities:

very tired: sluggish, lethargic, exhausted
very angry: incensed, irate, infuriated
very intelligent: genius
very wise: sage, enlightened
very fast: swift, racing
very helpful: obliging, accommodating
very caring: solicitous
very sensitive: empathetic, tenderhearted
very peaceful: serene, tranquil
very distressed: distraught, unhinged
very far: distant, remote
very uncertain: unsettled, dubious, ambivalent
very contrary: clashing, antithetical, contrary (Yes, contrary is one of those words that doesn’t need a modifier or a synonym. It’s meaningful enough all on its own.)

When we embrace the use of words that hold deeper meaning or exemplify our intentions, we have the potential to engage readers more fully.