Overuse of “look” or as Deborah Halverson aka DearEditor says, “Stop Looking!” A character looks up, looks down, looks around, looks another character in the eyes, looks at his watch, looks in her mirror. Some try to replace “look” with “gaze,” “stare,” etc. But the problem is deeper than that.
Looking is not as descriptive as other possible actions. It’s fairly passive. It doesn’t provide sensory details. Sometimes, it is distancing the reader.
Here are a few examples:
- John looked out the window.
- Leslie glared at her daughter.
- I looked at the paper on my desk.
Stronger possibilities:
- Out the window the Ponderosa pines were swaying in the wind. If John is the main character, we will assume he sees this.
- Leslie’s eyes narrowed emphasizing the hated wrinkle between her eyebrows. If her daughter is present, it will be pretty obvious that Leslie’s not exactly pleased with her.
- The paper on my desk said, “Don’t come back.”
I always suggest using Find in Word (Control F for PC, or Command F for Mac) to see how many “look”s there are. Usually it’s a surprisingly high number.
Then start replacing them with more dynamic content. Of course, you don’t have to get rid of all of them, but changing many and getting out of the lazy “looking” habit will definitely power up your writing.
Too many feelings. Using “feel”, “felt,” and “feels” often are telling instead of showing.
Here are a few examples:
- His legs shake and he feels an overwhelming blanket of anxiety stifling his mind.
- She felt sad. What does that look like?
- I felt sweaty and the mosquitoes were biting. Definitely telling!
These could become the stronger:
- His legs shake and an overwhelming blanket of anxiety stifles his mind.
- Her shoulders drooped to match the shape of her mouth. Now that I can picture.
- I licked sweat off my upper lip and smashed a mosquito on my jeans.
The fix. I do a search in Word (Control F for PC, or Command F for Mac) for the correct verb tense of “feel” in my story.
I change them one of two ways:
- Rearrange the sentence to share the same info without the word “felt.”
- Make it more active by helping the reader experience what is happening.
- Show and add sensory details.
You may ignore it in dialogue.
Write seemlessly (pun intended). Avoid “seem,” “seemed,” “seems.” Often used with “to.” You are the writer and creator of the story, so you know whether something happens or not. You should be sharing what happened—not guessing what happened. “Seemed” indicates uncertainty.
Here’s a simple example: It seemed to be raining. It’s either raining or not raining, isn’t it?
Look at these two:
She seems to remember many of the other cousins and there were a lot of them.
The walls seemed to lean toward me.
The fix. Remove “seem” forms in your narration and correct the verb tense. Tighten if necessary. The two above could become:
She remembers many of our numerous cousins.
The walls leaned toward me.
A possible exception. Sometimes a character expresses an opinion in dialogue or even in their thoughts. “You seem unhappy,” Jon said. If that’s how Jon talks, fine. Or perhaps he might say, “You look unhappy” or You sound unhappy.” But if Jon has an attitude and is more concerned about appearances that actual unhappiness, he might say, “Wipe that frown off your face!” It depends on Jon’s personality and the situation.
Of course, there are other commonly overused words and you may have some unique to your own writing. But go on a search and destroy mission with these three and it’ll give you a good start on self-editing.
I was once again reminded how important a fresh look is on a manuscript. This week a writer friend asked me to look at a picture book manuscript that her agent had said was “too mean spirited.” It was a retelling of an old story–good guys against a bad guy–with a very modern twist. I thought it was hilarious. I’d seen several versions and really couldn’t see much to tone down. Then yesterday she showed it to a mutual critique partner who had not seen the story before. She pointed out areas that would soften the story. This third writer had fresh eyes and was so right in her suggestions.
The Mostly True Story of Jack (Little, Brown, 2011) by Kelly Barnhill is told in multiple viewpoints. It’s good. It’s scary. And it has a great opening: “Frankie was the first to know. Frankie was the first to know most things–but since he hadn’t spoken since he was eight years old, it didn’t matter what he knew. He couldn’t tell anyone.” How could you not read that book?!
I read the book with the above cover, but am buying this cover version for a grandson. It’s spookier!