Avoid Overwriting
One of my college advisor’s mantras was “what writes tight writes well.” He could well have said, “Avoid overwriting.” Overwriting happens often in early drafts, as writers try to get the story down and figure they’ll fix things later. But then when revising, some of those descriptions can grow on us, and seem to belong. In those cases, it’s important to bear in mind what the scene is communicating. Sometimes details draw us in, but often they can distract readers, pushing them to think about unrelated things, and then to stop reading.
Overwriting can make scenes feel cluttered and unfocused.
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Overwriting Motions with Description
Consider this scene:
Jane sat at a table near the window and read her book.
Peter saw her from the doorway. He tucked in his shirt and strode into the room. He stepped over a pile of papers on the floor and nearly tripped over a bunch of books someone had left there. Recovering from his stumble, he straightened up again and put his hands on the chair across from her, then pulled it out. He plunked into the seat and gazed at her. She didn’t look up.
What is most important here? Peter wants to sit with Jane. Maybe he has something important to tell her. Maybe he’s been looking all over campus, and he finally found her in the library. We know he’s concerned about how he looks, because he tucks in his shirt. But is he embarrassed that he can’t even walk across a room without stumbling? And then, after all that effort, Jane doesn’t even look up when he sits down.
The extra actions and description get in the way of any sense of urgency, though, and nothing conveys how he feels. We’re distracted by the minutia. Peter strides, steps, and nearly trips. Then we get two phrases that say essentially the same thing with “recovering from his stumble,” and “he straightens up,” which implies recovery. And then he puts his hand on the chair before pulling it out to sit in it. In addition to the excessive motions, we’re also thinking about a pile of papers, a bunch of books, and a random person who left them. “On the floor” is unnecessary, because if he’s stepping over them, where else would they be?
Tighter version:
Peter saw Jane studying at a table near the window. He tucked in his shirt and crossed the room, but then stumbled over a pile of books. No one seemed to notice. He slid into the seat facing Jane and gazed at her. She didn’t look up.
Now, the action is focused, and we get a sense of how Peter feels. He wants to get to Jane, but trips. We’re shown that he cares what people think, because it’s implied he’s relieved no one noticed the stumble. He slides into the seat, indicating he’s respecting the quiet of the room, and he takes a beat to look at Jane before interrupting her.
Overwriting Action with Imagery
How necessary are images? If scene is straightforward, does it need to be described in terms of something else? Generally, no, unless what you’re describing is unusual, and a familiar comparison will make it more real. The danger with imagery is it’s often more likely to take the reader out of the story. In an action sequence, you want the writing to be tight to maximize the tension and avoid distracting the reader.
For example:
Jason drew his sword and advanced like a tiger stalking its prey in the jungle.
Lucius cowered in the corner like a newborn bird, wishing his powers would manifest. He pushed his hands farther into his robe pockets. They felt as deep as the practically bottomless camp lake he’d visited in Maine every summer as a boy. Finally he wrapped his long fingers around the forgotten amulet. It was smooth and cool, like a frozen skipping stone, only it pulsed in his hand like a beating heart. What was it I was supposed to chant? he wondered. Oh yeah … By the power of Bretton!
He leapt to his feet like a windup toy suddenly released and dodged Jason’s blow to the side. Energy raced through his body and Lucius knew he was now unstoppable. Nothing could get in his way, least of all Jason with his flat, plain sword. He was invincible.
Jason retreated, skulking away like a dog with its tail between its legs.
Two key things are wrong here. First, our mind’s eye is drawn to multiple conflicting images. We picture a tiger in a jungle. Then we see Lucius as a baby bird, and learn he visited a deep lake in Maine every summer. The amulet is both a frozen skipping stone and a beating heart, and then Lucius is like a released windup toy of some sort. Finally, we see Jason as a beaten dog. None of these images have anything to do with the story, and it can exhaust the reader to jump from one distinct image to the next. Are we in a jungle, or at a lake in Maine? Or neither? Lucius cowers in a corner, which indicates he’s indoors. There are also too many animals mentioned: tiger, baby bird, and dog. Second, as Lucius transforms, the reader is told the same thing three times: he’s unstoppable, invincible, and nothing can get in his way.
Tighter version:
Jason drew his sword and advanced.
Lucius cowered in the corner, wishing his powers would manifest. He pushed his hands farther into his robe pockets and wrapped his fingers around the forgotten amulet.
By the power of Bretton! He leapt to his feet and dodged Jason’s blow. Energy pulsed through his body. Nothing stood in his way now.
Jason retreated.
Keep your writing tight and focused, and readers will feel the tension build.
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