Thus far, I’ve covered the most offensive types of errors I’ve seen in fiction on the web, and now I’ll get down to things that are merely bad or that are just annoying. But just because an error doesn’t stand up and slap you in the face, it doesn’t mean an editor will let you get away with it. She shouldn’t and she won’t.
From here on, though, the problem with these errors is that–more so than the topics of previous posts–frequently they aren’t errors at all. Don’t you just hate that? As we move on, keep in mind that all of the word usages I list here–all of them–often have a legitimate place in prose. There will be times that you specifically want what they provide; the key is to understand the danger they pose, and use them knowingly.
And so, onward to “wiggle words.”
“Wiggle words” is just a phrase I use (though I probably snurched it from someone else, just like I snurched the word “snurched”), so don’t try to find it in any book. I equate them to ticks or leeches because, in ones and twos, they rarely do serious harm; when they infest a story, however, they suck the life from everything around them, and leave behind a dull, lifeless husk.
I call them “wiggle words” because when I find them in my writing, I know I’m trying to wiggle out of saying what I really want to say. I unconsciously use these wiggle words to shy away from strong writing, and from stating my case as strongly as possible.
My list of wiggle words includes:
- Seemed, like, it was as if
- Some, nearly, almost, practically
- Suddenly, immediately, abruptly
- Slowly, started, began to
- Gerund verb forms, passive voice, and “had been”
When I see these words, especially when I see them in a group, I know I’ve gotten lazy. In the following examples, culled from some of my early stories on posted here on this site, I’ve made bold the wiggle words that weaken the prose.
From Spencer’s Peace:
Al was lounging in bed, the usual steaming cup of coffee and morning paper resting on the night table where Spencer had placed them. Spencer was transparing the broad windows to let in the clean light of the December morning. The quality of daylight changed and Spencer suddenly put a trembling palm to his wrinkled brow, letting out a low, soft moan.
and…
It was no longer December outside. It seemed more like spring, though no time had passed. The room, too, had been altered; half-drawn vertical blinds now shaded the window in lieu of polarized glass and the stuccoed ceiling, formerly fine-grained mahogany, seemed perhaps a bit lower.
From Intaglio:
She looked down at the invitation she had been carrying since last week…
and…
Inside, the place seemed empty and barren. The only person in the upper room was Elena, who was frantically filling pitchers with red and green effervescent wines for the room downstairs.
In the above examples, each time I used a gerundial verb form (e.g., “Al was lounging in bed…”) it almost invariably reads better with an active form (“Al lounged in bed…”). And when I see the word “seemed” I have to ask myself, “Was it, or wasn’t it?”
So here’s my list again, with my usual response appended:
- Seemed, like, it was as if
- Well, was it, or wasn’t it? Make up your mind! Have some mana, brah!
- Some, nearly, almost, practically
- Is the word needed or should I pick a different word (e.g., “he almost ran” vs “he jogged”)?
- Suddenly, immediately, abruptly
- Drop the word and just start with the verb; if it isn’t strong enough pick another verb
- Slowly, started, began to
- Drop the word and reevaluate; if it’s needed, keep it.
- Gerund verb forms, passive voice, and “had been”
- Reword in almost all instances, especially if they come in a flock (like locusts)
Now your list is going to be different but I know you’ve got one. Study your work, compile your list, and decide your own responses to them.
Next time: Assonance and Repetition
Ahh, I’m definitely guilty of using wiggle words everywhere! I don’t think I could even pinpoint the lot of them from a given work 😦
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I bet if you spent some time on it, you’d be able to find your patterms. Everyone has different quirks–for some it’s passive voice, others it’s “seem” or “like” creeping in everywhere. Find them and make an editing pass JUST for those items. I used to only do it on my fiction but, now that I’m blogging here, I find I really need to do it on my non-fiction also. I trim between 10-20% on every post.
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[…] in my “The View from Here” series, I addressed one common problem I called “Wiggle Words.” I cannot now remember where I came up with the phrase–perhaps I made it up; […]
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[…] lay out my last gripes about unpolished writing: repetition, assonance, and alliteration. Like last time, these are hard to find in editing, and not something I can spot by scanning a work. But I find […]
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Though this also reminds me of the author who, in a fit of hilarious madness, decided to write a short piece entirely in the passive voice. Your list got me thinking of the times when such phrases are acceptable. The one that made me giggle was, “The room seemed to be empty, but when it comes to Ninja’s that means nothing.” 😉
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There are some phrases I can’t use because someone poked fun at them. “He threw up his hands,” is one of them. I never thought twice about it until another writer went, “Ewwwww.”
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… eewwww. Yeah. Glad I’m done with lunch.
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I think the biggest irritant I’ve ever seen in a book (Fall of Reach, to be precise) was the use of a perfectly well-worded description… used over, and over, and over, and OVER! And it wouldn’t have been nearly as bad but the fact it was just uncommon enough of a word to be noticeable made it absolutely hate it and swear never to use it myself by the time I finished the book.
That the only “error that isn’t an error” that I can think of you didn’t list, overusing a term until it grates the reader every time they see it, then spend the last half of the book bracing for it to occur again.
I tend to overdo it on the word ‘moment’. She thought a moment, he waited a moment, they took a moment… when I’m being edity, I do a find for the word ‘moment’ and try to delete all but one instance if I can. Maybe two, if the story is long enough. But 700 words isn’t nearly long enough to justify using the same term twice like that.
I probably fall into your others a bit, too, and possibly just due to how common they are in some reading that they sound too ‘normal’ and we let them slip past without thinking.
Thanks for the list to keep our editorial eyes open for!
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What you mention is actually the topic of the next installment (which reminds me…I forgot to put in the “Next Time:” plug at the bottom!
And as for the “list,” we will all have our own separate lists of catch-phrases. But by making ourselves aware of our own foibles, we can find the problems when they really are problems.
Gotta go put that plug on the tagline. Thanks!
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Whoops! >.>
I can delete that if you want? 😉
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No, no. It’s good that you pointed it out. It _is_ a sort of WiggleWord thing, but since it doesn’t weaken the prose (per se), I put Assonance and Repetition in a different class. Next week we’ll wrap it up with that topic.
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