A Short Story That Perfectly Illustrates What To Cut When Editing Your Writing
Whether you write fiction or essays, this will make you a stronger writer.
Y’all, when I run across the same conversation twice in the same day and it’s about writing, I can’t not tell you about it. That’s what happened yesterday.
In the morning, Marilyn Flower tagged me on a Middle Pause story because she’d used a post of mine as an example in a writing tip.
I’d described a man in four words (Trench coat. Dark hair.) so she used that as a contrast to some of the long flowery descriptions they see in submissions. Twenty words. Forty words. There’s a phrase for that. It’s called purple prose.
Purple prose is text that’s too long, too descriptive or too ornate. Elmore Leonard, who was one of America’s top crime novelists, once said when writing sounds like writing you need to rewrite it. Purple prose is most often seen in descriptions.
But the topic wasn’t done with me...
In the afternoon, I was chatting with Roman when he pulled a story out of thin air and dropped it in my lap. It perfectly illustrates what to cut when you’re editing. On the first read, you might think it’s about writing fiction. I promise you it’s not.
Here’s the story…
As a writer, you’re a bus driver. Driving a route from the start of the story to the end. There’s a bird flying above and with the bus. That bird is the reader.
As the bus trundles along it picks people up and drops them off. Those are the characters. Each stop some characters get off and some get on. When the bus stops to pick up a character the bus driver's goal is to keep the bus moving.
Everyone wants to get to know the new character, but not at the expense of the bus moving. Everyone can get acquainted while the bus is moving. The bus is the story.
Stephen King talks about that in On Writing.
I once wrote about a New York Literary agent who has a knack for finding writers with potential to go bestseller. He said he only needs to read one page from any writer to know if he should reject them. First thing he looks for is cliché, tropes and over description. If he sees those, it’s an automatic rejection letter.
It’s not just purple prose. It’s also knowing what needs describing and what doesn’t.
Stephen King talks about that in On Writing.
In chapter six, he says thin description leaves the reader bewildered and confused, but over describing buries the reader in detail and images. The trick is finding a happy medium.
It’s also important to know what to describe and what can be left alone while you get on with your main job, which is telling a story
He expands on that…
If I tell you that Carrie White is a high school outcast with a bad complexion and fashion victim wardrobe, I think you can do the rest, can’t you? We all remember high school losers… if I describe mine, it freezes out yours and I lose a little bit of the bond I want to forge with you. Description begins in the writer’s imagination, but should finish in the reader’s.
That’s where the bus analogy is helpful. Does knowing she has blonde hair or his eyes sparkle brilliant grey keep the bus moving? Does not knowing it stop the bus?
Will the story be changed forever if you imagine Carrie to look different than Stephen King imagined her? Does physical description keep the bus moving? Not usually. Not unless it’s pertinent to keeping the bus moving.
***
It’s not just fiction. It kills essays on Medium every day…
When my own publications are slow, I try to find new writers to nominate for a boost. One day, I stumbled across a story that had promise. Good title. Interesting topic.
At one point, the writer mentioned her sister in law. A new character got on the bus. Then she went on a two paragraph ramble about her sister-in-law, none of it relevant to the story itself. Praising her sister-in-law did not keep the bus moving.
That’s a question you need to ask every time you describe something. Does the description keep the bus moving? No? Then cut it.
Sometimes descriptions are necessary. If there’s a person walking down the street and you need to explain why you’re terrified, by all means, describe. But only describe that which keeps the bus moving.
It’s a question you have to ask continually as a writer. Or at the very least, when you’re editing your own writing. Every paragraph. Every sentence.
Does this keep the bus moving?
***
Writing is seeing…
The worst thing words can be is contrived. Unrealistic. Artificial. It’s why I say writing is seeing. But you also need to keep sight of what the story is in the first place. Because the words you use and the story you’re telling are not the same thing. When you can clearly see what the story is, you can see what isn’t part of it.
When I offered editing services years ago, I was a brutal editor. I could cut half a story just by removing what doesn’t keep the bus moving. It makes for stronger reading. Economy of words is a powerful way to write.
Just tell the parts that keep the bus moving.
Incidentally, if you don’t read Roman’s writing, you probably should. He’s one of very few writers whose writing has a higher perplexity score than mine, which is the ability to use words in uncommon ways. It makes writing deeply human and he inspires me to make my words work a little harder. Start with Paul’s Club and Made of Leaves.
On Medium…
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You can't argue with any of that. Unless you're a middle-aged, fluffy-haired woman with a medium-sized nose, slightly larger on one side, who wears a coat when it's hot and has a little white dog she walks every morning.
Great article! I always find that it's to your benefit to switch a passage to dialogue. People enjoy reading dialogue, it makes you feel like you're eavesdropping. Internal dialogue is even better, that's like mindreading. If you can't say it in dialogue, you can probably cut it.