Organizing the Narrative Essay

Last week at Writing Center Underground, we discussed several different invention strategies to uncover an engaging narrative essay topic. Now that you have a great topic, how do you organize your story?

There are many ways to organize a narrative. No real rules or formulaic outlines exist, which appeals to many writers. This can also cause a lot of frustration for the writer who is used to rules and outlines. The flexibility of form of the narrative essay gives the writer the freedom to tell his or her story as creatively as he or she chooses. What we suggest here are only general guidelines. As you compose your essay, consider the story you want to tell and which form works best to communicate that event.

Ingredients

What goes into a narrative? Traditionally, if you are going to retell an event, you’ll need to include three elements: Scene, Summary, and Reflection.

Scene is action. People are talking (dialogue); you or other people are moving or reacting to something.

Summary is exposition. It is condensing time (making a long stretch of time shorter) or conflating time (making a short stretch of time longer for dramatic effect). Summary can be history and background, filling in the blanks for the reader.

Reflection is your – the narrator’s – thoughts. What did you think or feel as the action was happening? What do you think or feel now? How have you made sense of what happened? This is reflection.

These three elements do not necessarily have to be in equal increments. This is a writer’s creative choice on how much the writer feels is necessary to fully communicate his or her story.

The Intro

Literature is filled great “hooks” or opening lines: “Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Anna Karenina

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. . .” A Tale of Two Cities

“Call me Ishmael.” Moby Dick

And this line, probably the most famous (and now most clichéd): “It was a dark and stormy night.”  Paul Clifford

                                                            

Composing an engaging hook, or opening line, is essential to immediately draw your readers into your story. Without a strong intro, a reader may disengage and not continue reading, so spend some time on your intro and hook your readers before moving on.

Organization

You’ve hooked your reader, so now where do you go? Chronological organization, or retelling your story in the order events happened in real life, is one way. However, beginning writers often get stuck spinning their wheels, or spending too much time setting up a story with inconsequential exposition, which runs the risk of losing your readers.

Beginning in the Middle

Consider taking your story out of chronological order, and begin in medias res, Latin for in the midst of things. In an in medias res narrative, the story opens in the middle of the actual chronology of events, usually with dramatic action rather than exposition setting up the narrative. The story begins in the middle, moves forward from there, with the past told in flashbacks. An in media res intro works well to hook the reader, as the dramatic action begins immediately.

Story Structure

Once you begin composing your narrative and you’ve decided on how you are going to organize your event, you’ll now need to put it all into paragraph structure. Narrative essays don’t have the type of topic sentences that an academic paper has or obvious signals on when to begin a new paragraph.

Obvious paragraph breaks will be when speakers change: new speaker = new paragraph. Other breaks may not be so obvious. Think in terms of the action, and structure the paragraphs around the action. Generally, narrative paragraphs change when something in the action changes:

Introduction of new people
Location or setting changes
Time passes or era changes
Action changes
Mode changes (action changes to reflection, reflection changes to exposition)

Climactic Moment

For a narrative event essay, you’ll probably be asked to consider the narrative arc, or the climatic sequence of events. When you decided on what event to retell, you most likely thought of the “climax,” the high point of excitement or the turning point of the event or experience. But to retell this event and to get to the climax, you’ll also include rising action (events before the climax) and falling action (events after the climax). Many writers find it easier to work backward, or write out the climax and work up to that point. It doesn’t really matter how you get there, just that you get there.

Narrative Arcs aren’t necessarily a perfect arc

Even in the shortest narrative event essays, you’ll need to include the basic elements of plot to complete your narrative arc:

1. Exposition
2. Rising Action
3. Climax
4. Falling Action
5. Resolution

(Denouement is a French term meaning resolution)

However, don’t assume that because the “climax” falls in the middle . . . that it falls in the middle.

The climax to a narrative can often be closest to the conclusion of the essay, followed by a brief resolution or denouement.

Conclusions

Many writers find the conclusion, or resolution, to be the most difficult part of the narrative to write well. Try to avoid the inclination to overwrite the conclusion. The central meaning, or universal theme, should be apparent in the narrative. If you have to tell the reader what it all means in the end, you might need to go back and expand the narrative so readers can derive meaning as they see the story unfold.

As you can see, writing a narrative essay is no easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy writing assignment. It takes a lot of thought and planning.

On the other hand, don’t over-analyze how you should organize your narrative so much that you get analysis paralysis. Sometimes, just sitting down and writing as if you were simply jotting down a diary entry of a memorable event will open the creative channels from which your story will effortlessly flow.

Not likely, but that’s what revision is for.  

 

Brainstorming for the Narrative Essay: Memory Mining

Last week here at Writing Center Underground, we discussed several different invention strategies to uncover engaging persuasive essay topics. This week, we’ll focus our brainstorming on uncovering essay topics for the Narrative Essay.

Narrative essays tell a story. In English classes, most instructors ask students to tell a story about themselves, such as an event from the past or a story about their family. Narratives can be quite personal, and students have the opportunity to be creative, utilizing fictional techniques including dialogue, description, characterization and plot development.

Choosing a narrative topic that meets assignment guidelines as well as maintains readers’ interest is often daunting for beginning writers, but spending a little time utilizing several invention strategies will set you on your way to an engaging narrative topic and an entertaining essay.

Invention Strategies

Invention strategies will be different for a narrative essay than for a persuasive essay. Narratives will draw more on personal experience, so for narrative essays,  we’ll do what’s called memory mining. Memory mining is simply brainstorming to uncover memories of people, places, events, and experiences. To simplify, we’ll break our memories down into categories. Try to list at least 3 memories for each category.

Memories of people

Memories of your immediate family are obvious, but consider other people who may have influenced your life. Did you have a favorite teacher or coach? Did you have a first boss who was a mentor? Did you meet someone who left a profound effect on your life? List the person and a brief note on why they come to mind. Below are some examples that could become an intriguing story:

1.     My high school history teacher taught me the importance of learning from our past
2.     My grandmother’s love of baking
3.     The homeless man I passed each day on the way to the bus stop

Memories of times and places

If I were to ask you to recall a place from your youth, I bet it would be easy. Places are full of memories of sights, sounds, smells – the making of a great narrative essay. Places can be inside home or outside in the city or country. A place could be a garden or a doctor’s office. Think of “time” in terms of era: junior high science lab; the summer you broke both your legs and spent the time in your bed; the maple tree where you kissed your first boyfriend over winter break.  Work past the obvious and list as many times and places as you can.

1.     Early autumn in the Tennessee mountains
2.     The first day of deer hunting season
3.     Your Quinceañera

Memories of events

Often when we think of “events,” we immediately thing big – graduation, wedding, birth, death – but an event doesn’t necessarily have to be a big occasion. An event could be your last day of high school, saying goodbye to your favorite teacher. It could be a tornado drill at school when you got to snuggle close to the girl/boy of your dreams. It could be the first time you drove a car and went the wrong way down a one-way street (was I the only one who did that?). Think outside the box.

1.     Getting a black belt in karate
2.     The first – and last – time you sat on Santa’s lap
3.     Parents’ silver wedding anniversary

Memories of happy experiences

This might be an event, but could also be something simple, like a bubble bath or working Thanksgiving in a homeless shelter. Think small and large when brainstorming  happy experiences.

1.     Catching the winning touchdown pass
2.     Opening the letter of acceptance from the journal where you submitted a poem
3.     Senior prom

Memories of unhappy experiences

We’ve all had unhappy experiences, but trying to determine which ones might make a good essay can be challenging. Think in terms of how you will tell the story of your unhappy experience before you commit it to paper. A break-up or death may come to mind first, but take some time to consider if there is a story  in the experience that others can derive meaning from.

1.     Being pulled over by the police
2.     Wrecking my father’s beloved Camero
3.     Being ejected from the final game and disappointing my teammates

Memories of accomplishments

Accomplishments can be big or small. The emotions we might feel after accomplishing something might range from elation to sadness.

1.     Winning an award
2.     Completing the marathon
3.     Hitting weight loss goal
   

Supporting Ideas: Testing Your Topic

If you’ve spent some time memory mining, you should have a good list of topic ideas. Now you can begin to brainstorm supporting ideas. Pick one of your favorite topics you’ve uncovered, and list related memories as they come to mind.

For example, one student might choose her grandmother’s love a baking. Here is a list of memories surrounding that topic:

Grandma baked iced sugar cookies every Christmas
specialty was pecan pie
always wore her blue floral apron
flour in hair
let me lick bowl
types of cookies
favorite Betty Crocker cookbook
colored frosting and sprinkles
kitchen smelled good
singing along to Elvis music
Dad only ate unfrosted cookies
I learned how to use mixer
she let me add ingredients
learned to read recipes
I was glad sister didn’t like to help
made extra frosting so I could eat it
wrapped cookies in box and gave as gifts
couldn’t bake as she got older
I baked for her and she helped decorate

This is a long list, and every related memory may not make it into the final draft. If you have too much material for your essay, decide what the main ideas you want to write about are.

In our narrative, we want to show Grandma’s love of baking and how she passed it on, so the details of Grandma’s actions and what the writer learned from Grandma are important. Other details, such as the writer’s feelings about her sister, her Dad’s favorite cookies, or which cookbook Grandma used, may be less important and can be omitted. Once you decide what the story is you want to tell, you’ll begin to see what the important memories are, the focus will gradually become clearer, and the story will start to spring from the memories.

Easy as pie.

 

 

First Draft and Second Thoughts

(Originally appeared October 2011)

 

If a teacher told me to revise, I thought that meant my writing was a broken-down car that needed to go to the repair shop. I felt insulted. I didn’t realize the teacher was saying, “Make it shine. It’s worth it.” Now I see revision as a beautiful word of hope. It’s a new vision of something. It means you don’t have to be perfect the first time. What a relief!                                             

Naomi Shihab Nye

 I’m not a very good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter.
 James Michener

 
I had a student in the Writing Center this week with a first draft of an English Composition essay. He was worried about the quality of his writing, worried that it wasn’t well thought-out, worried about length – just worried about every real or imagined shortcoming in general. His draft wasn’t any better or worse than any other first draft; it was just that – a first draft.

Students who aren’t familiar with the “writing is a process” model think it possible (and maybe it was in high school) to bang out a quality paper at 2:00am the night before a due date. This effort might get a strong writer a passing grade, but most of us need several drafts to produce the quality of writing needed for more complicated college writing assignments. I have never been able to sit in front of a blank computer screen and churn out anything worth reading on the first try. In fact, it might take me 5, 6, or 10 revisions before a piece is ready to be read by my peers.

The word essay derives from the French essayer, “to try” or “to attempt.” First drafts will often be an intro that leads to nothing, a conclusion with no beginning, or a middle with no engine or caboose, or simply some scribbled notes. First drafts are just that – a first attempt. You don’t have to be perfect the first time. But I guarantee the more you revise a piece, the more close to perfect it will become.

 

Why Poetry Will Make You a Better Writer

 

 

 

 

April is National Poetry Month, and those of us at MCC’s Writing Center love our poetry. You might not think reading and writing poetry could help you with your academic, fiction, or nonfiction writing, but you might be surprised how poetry can improve your overall writing. How? Let me count the ways.

Writing poetry can help you be concise

Poetry spares no words. Poets know they must avoid redundancy and be succinct. Instead of writing sentences and paragraphs to get a point across, a poet must carefully choose his or her words. If your instructor asked you to take a paragraph and condense it down into one sentence without losing the meaning, could you do it? The haiku below shows a scene in eight words:

No sky
no earth – but still
snowflakes fall.

– Hashin

Less is more, and poetry can help writers uncover the words that are truly essential.

Poetry can help expand your word choice

For poets, word choice is everything. Poets toil over every word, and not a syllable is wasted, so it is imperative they chose the perfect word. Words paint pictures, and the color “red” is different than “scarlet,” which is different than “cherry,” which is different than “crimson.” Want proof? Look at the “red” uniforms of the Nebraska Cornhuskers, the Kansas City Chiefs, the Arkansas Razorbacks, and the Ohio State Buckeyes. Plain old red isn’t exactly the color of all their uniforms, is it? Is something simply noisy, or is it deafening? Were you happy, or would “ecstatic” be more accurate? Or even euphoric? In the poem below by Bruce Guernsey, he uses the word “shack” instead of house and “drifts” instead of simply snow. Also, look at his choice of verbs. What other choices do you suppose he made?

Back Road

Winter mornings
driving past
I’d see these kids
huddled like grouse
in the plowed ruts
in front of their shack
waiting for the bus,
three small children
bunched against the drifts
rising behind them.

This morning
I slowed to wave
and the smallest,
a stick of a kid
draped in a coat,
grinned and raised
his red, raw hand,
the snowball
packed with rock
aimed at my face.

Poetry can help you paint pictures with words

Has your instructor every told you to “show, don’t tell”? Did you wonder what exactly that meant and how to achieve it? Poets show in words by painting a picture for the reader. Poets use imagery with sensory detail, showing what something looks like, feels like, tastes like, sounds like, and smells like. Do you hear a bird chirping, or is it a robin singing “cheerily, cheer up, cheer up, cheerily, cheer up”? Did the hospital room smell bad, or did it smell like formaldehyde and urine? Sometimes poets use simile, metaphor, and even personification. The poem below by Ted Kooser utilizes several of these poetic tools. Can you pick out the sensory detail? Do you find any simile, metaphor, or personification?

In January

Only one cell in the frozen hive of night
is lit, or so it seems to us:
this Vietnamese café, with its oily light,
its odors whose colorful shapes are like flowers.
Laughter and talking, the tick of chopsticks.
Beyond the glass, the wintry city
creaks like an ancient wooden bridge.
A great wind rushes under all of us.
The bigger the window, the more it trembles.

Poetry teaches rhythm

Has your instructor ever said your writing is plodding, or you need to vary your sentence structure? What he or she is trying to tell you is that you need to work on your rhythm. In poetry, one must consider the musicality of the language. Cadence and melody create the musical quality of poetry. Poetry is musical language, and can generate a physical response; we want to tap our feet and nod our head in tune with poetry. In the following poem by Theodore Roethke, he describes his “Papa’s Waltz” but also writes in the beat of a waltz. Can you figure out where the stresses or “beats” are?

My Papa’s Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother’s countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

Poetry is like music: there is something for every taste. If you had a bad experience with poetry in grade school or high school, give it another chance. You might find something you like.

Do you have a poem you’d like to share online? Send me your poems about writing, and I’ll post on our blog the month of April.

Want to learn more about poetry? Check out the links below.

Poem-a-day podcast: http://www.learnoutloud.com/Podcast-Directory/Literature/Poetry/Poem-of-the-Day-Podcast/20139

The Poetry Foundation: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/

National Poetry Month http://www.poets.org/page.php/prmID/41

Chasing Rabbits: Lost & Found in the Personal Essay

As I admired the early spring sunset last night, I watched out my front window as a neighborhood dog was unleashed to play for a bit, and began chasing a cottontail rabbit. The rabbit lay nestled under another neighbor’s shrubs, but the dog – not a well-trained Lab but a homely looking mutt – sniffed him out. The rabbit hopped across the yard, and the dog took chase, pursuing the rabbit around that yard, and the next. The rabbit hopped around trees, between bushes and under cars before the dog was called back home. The rabbit was safe, at least for the time being.

Scott Russell Sanders, prolific writer and Pulitzer Prize nominee, compared essay writing to “the pursuit of mental rabbits,” what Dinty W. Moore, author of Crafting the Personal Essay, calls a “hunt, a chase, a ramble through thickets of thought, in pursuit of some brief glimmer of fuzzy truth.” Moore retells a scene  similar to mine, comparing chasing a rabbit to essay writing.

Often, when students are assigned a personal, or narrative essay, their first thoughts are what in the world am I going to write about? followed by how in the world am I going to make it interesting?

Beginning writers often think of their essays as a one-way road they must not divert from. But essayist Sanders, in his piece, “Beauty,” begins in one place (a church for his daughter’s wedding) and ends up as a meditation on memory:

In memory, I wait beside Eva in the vestibule of the church to play my bit part as father of the bride. She hooks a hand on my elbow while three bridesmaids fuss over her, fixing the gauzy veil, spreading the long ivory train of her gown, tucking into her bun a loose strand of hair, which glows the color of honey filled with sunlight. Clumsy in my rented patent leather shoes and stiff black tuxedo, I stand among these gorgeous women like a crow among doves. I realize they’re gorgeous not because they carry bouquets or wear silk dresses, but because the festival of marriage has slowed time down until any fool can see their glory.

In the following passage a few short paragraphs later, Sanders talks about the Big Bang, memory and beauty, but eventually comes back to where these “mental rabbits” began, his daughter’s wedding:

Pardon my cosmic metaphor, but I can’t help thinking of the physicists’ claim that, if we trace the universe back to its origins in the Big Bang, we find the multiplicity of things fusing into greater and greater simplicity, until at the moment of creation itself there is only pure undifferentiated energy. Without being able to check their equations, I think the physicists are right. I believe the energy they speak of is holy, by which I mean it is the closest we can come with our instruments to measuring the strength of God. I also believe this primal energy continues to feed us, directly through the goods of creation, and indirectly through the experience of beauty. The thrill of beauty is what entranced me as I stood with Eva’s hand hooked over my arm while the wedding march played, as it entrances me on these September nights when I walk over dewy grass among the songs of crickets and stare at the Milky Way.

How did Sanders go from a wedding to the Big Bang, to creation, to God, to the Milky Way? Chasing mental rabbits.

Have you ever tried to write a narrative essay and focus your attention on one specific event or story? How soon did you lose focus? I’ll guess pretty quick. Mental rabbits. But mental rabbits are worth pursuing. Mental rabbits are where connections to a larger purpose are realized, the “so what?” of the essay uncovered.

Sanders doesn’t leave us hanging; he takes the reader with him on his chase, finally connecting all the dots for us:

On these cool September mornings, I’ve been poring over two sets of photographs, those from deep space and those from Eva’s wedding, trying to figure out why such different images–of supernova and shining daughter, of spinning galaxies and trembling bouquets–set up in me the same hum of delight. The feeling is unusually intense for me just now, so soon after the nuptials, but it has never been rare. As far back as I can remember, things seen or heard or smelled, things tasted or touched, have provoked in me an answering vibration.

Of course, Sanders is a master of the essay, and he knew if he took off chasing rabbits, he’d better have a good reason. You don’t want to go down a rabbit hole and never come up again.

Some may argue that chasing mental rabbits will create an unfocused essay. This might be true if the writer never comes back from the chase, getting lost in the rabbit hole. The idea is to chase the rabbit, but circle back. Connect the dots for the reader. Order will be found in chaos.

Exercise:

Think of a childhood memory, nothing dramatic, just a fun, simple memory. When I recall childhood memories, I think of my favorite backyard climbing tree, or swimming in the lake. Describe the event in detail, then, take chase. Pursue your own mental rabbits. Where are they taking you? Why are they important? What is the deeper meaning of this memory?

Final Thoughts

The structure of the personal essay often does not have a traditional narrative arc. It’s a meandering stream of thoughts and connections of an event or moment. If your instructor has assigned a narrative essay requiring a traditional narrative arc, a chronological retelling of events employing a suggested structure, you might have to limit your rabbit chase.

The personal essay gives the perception that it lacks a focused structure; however, adept essay writers have honed their craft to make order out of the chaos of their rabbits.  

 

HAPPY EASTER!

For more on the personal essay, read Crafting the Personal Essay: A Guide for Writing and Publishing Creative Nonfiction by Dinty W. Moore.

 

5 Simple Ways to Improve Your Writing Today

(Repost from Nov. 2 2011)

Students come into our Writing Center every day and ask what they can do to improve their writing NOW. Good writing takes time and practice (and lots of reading) but there are a few things you can do immediately to strengthen your writing and wow your instructor before that next essay is due.

1. Eliminate wordiness. Do you ever get your essays back from instructors with such comments as, “tighten,” “condense,” or “wordy”? What this means is that you are trying to communicate your point with more words than necessary. For example, note the difference in

“It is the opinion of our professor that we have failed to meet his expectations.”

and

“We have failed to meet our professor’s expectations.”

The second sentence is tighter, uses fewer words, and is stronger and more direct. Just remember, if you can communicate your point in fewer words, do it. Less is more.

2. Eliminate “that.”

“That” is often just a filler word. Look back over an old essay and see how many times you’ve used “that” in a sentence. Would the sentence make sense without that “that.” The last sentence could, and I bet about 75% of yours could too. For instance, look at the following sentence; the first “that” isn’t necessary. The second is:

“I only meant that I didn’t want to write that essay.” or

“The only way that I can explain my point is by showing an example.”

See what I mean? Cutting that word out will make your writing more concise. But I needed that last one, and this last one too, so make sure it’s not necessary to communicate meaning.

3. Be careful of piling on the prepositions. What’s a preposition, you ask? Space-related prepositions are anything a squirrel can do to a tree:

A squirrel can go around a tree behind a tree. in a tree. on a tree. toward a tree. under a tree. up a tree.

Once you get on a prepositional roll, it’s hard to stop:

I will stay with the best friend of my sister at the cabin near the river in the valley between the two most beautiful mountains in Wyoming until February despite the weather.

Sentences can go on forever with prepositional phrases, and that isn’t a good thing (see how I needed “that” in the previous sentence?).

4. Throw in an absolute phrase. An absolute phrase works to modify an entire sentence. It consists of a noun plus at least one other word, as shown here: The hunters rested for a moment in front of the shack, their breaths white in the frosty air.

The first part of the sentence is independent: “The hunters rested for a moment in front of the shack.” The second part of the sentence modifies the first part: “their breaths (noun) white (adjective) in the frosty air (prep. phrase).

You can move the absolute phrase to the beginning of the sentence as well:

Their breaths white in the frosty air, the hunters rested for a moment in front of the shack.

Throw in some absolute phrases in your narrative essays to make them shine.

5. Be active. Using active voice instead of passive voice in writing means the subject of the sentence performs the action expressed in the verb:

Edward loves Bella. (S) (V) (O)

as opposed to

Bella is loved by Edward. (O) (V) (S)

Sometimes passive voice is vague or awkward, and often the subject is left out. Politicians love using active voice and use it often:

Bombs were dropped (by who?).

Shots were fired (again, by who?).

Next time you read the paper, see how many times passive voice is used, and ask yourself if you are getting the whole story.

Try these 5 fool-proof techniques with your next assignment and share your results.

That was fun! What did I leave out? Any others you want to share?

Improving Your Prose: Avoid Adverbs and Adjectives

First things first: what exactly are adjectives and adverbs?

An adverb is a word that functions as a modifier of a verb, adjective, other adverb, or adverbial phrase, as very  in very nice, much as in much more impressive, and quickly as in he ran quickly.  They relate to what they modify by indicating place (I promise to be there later), time (Do your homework now! ), manner (She sings beautifully), circumstance (He accidentally dropped the glass when the bell rang), degree (I’m very  happy to see you), or cause (I draw, although badly).

An adjective is a word that modifies a noun or pronoun, primarily by describing a particular quality of the word they are modifying, as wise in a wise grandmother,  or perfect  in a perfect score, or handsome  in He is extremely handsome.  (from dictionary.reference.com)

Many beginning writers throw dressy words into their narrative writing, thinking these words will create better images. But such superficial flourishes often turn out to be colorless and even redundant. Readers must hack away at the cluttered writing to find the point, causing frustration and confusion.

When a lion roars, when isn’t it ferociously?
When a kitten purrs, isn’t it softly?

Adverbs

For instance, look at the adverbs such as “adoringly” or “quickly” in the following sentences:

She caressed him adoringly.

The robber ran out of the bank quickly.

In these two sentences, the verbs (action word) provide the acting and the emotion. The adverbs are merely repeating what the verbs have already communicated. Think about it: is it possible to caress someone without doing it adoringly? Is it possible to run out of a bank without being quick? If the adverb and the verb it modifies are essentially saying the same thing, leave it out. Both of the adverbs above are redundant words that only weaken what they hope to modify.

Redundant phrases aren’t the only problem with adverbs. They also will most likely be a reason your instructor will write, “Telling – you need to SHOW.” In the previous example–

She caressed him adoringly –

The writer is telling how she caressed him (adoringly) instead of showing, such as–

She caressed his face, her hands gliding along the contours of his jaw and along his brow, as if she were reading his face in braille.

Wow. Is it hot in here? This description is showing what “adoringly” can’t even envision.

Adjectives

Adjectives present the same problem as adverbs do, only they can be even more annoying. Take the following sentence, for instance:

The moon was big and bright tonight, lighting up the dark, deserted forest, casting a bright, white, translucent shadow across tall, majestic evergreens as I walked within the glowing, wonderful, thick woods.                                   (from Writing on the Wall)

Does the laundry list of adjectives add anything to improve the visual? The only thing the adjectives do is create a longer, more awkward sentence.

Let’s take them out, and see what you think:

The moon was bright tonight, lighting up the forest, casting a translucent shadow across the evergreens as I walked within the woods.

Better? It’s more specific, they sentence is clearer, and it flows better.

Let’s take the improved sentence, and make it even tighter:

The moon cast a translucent shadow across the evergreens as I walked within the forest.

Best. It’s tighter, flows better, and creates a much more precise image.

When in doubt, strike it out.

Now You Try!

Take the following sentences and eliminate any redundant or unneeded adverbs and adjectives. You may need to incorporate more effective nouns.

1. I walked slowly and methodically through the majestic, lush, green hills, the scent of fresh, spring grass smelled very, very nice.
    
2. The shiny, new, red Mustang sped hurriedly through the busy intersection, the loud, wailing police siren in quick pursuit.
    
3. The chef stood lazily over the grill, slowly and wearily flipping the greasy burgers as he carefully balanced the long, gray ash of his cigarette over the dangerously hot stove.