Later in that same chapter I have the phrase “…stopping to rest before riding again into the wild”, and I’ll change that to, “We stopped to rest before we rode away…” or even start with “We rested…”

In a National Geographic article I read recently, I found some sentences I loved so much, I highlighted them. The author gave such rich description in relatively few words, without using -ing words, and in relating to the last lesson, no adverbs and hardly any adjectives:
“Her silver ornaments scintillated with the flames, and when she moved, she rattled. She wore a veil over what looked like a pixie’s hat. Had she pulled out a wand and offered me three wishes, I could not have found her more fantastic.”

I wish I wrote that.

I found another passage I like just as much, and noticed that the author did use a couple of -ing verbs. She wrote this part as a journal entry, in the present tense, and the verbs didn’t distract me at all when I read the sentences:
“I hear my name; the women are talking about me, but they speak in Gujarati. …They think my name is ridiculous, so they call me Ratti Ben (Sister of Blood). My eyelids are growing heavy, and in that forest between sleep and wakefulness I understand, with immeasurable relief, all their words. I try to fix them in my brain for later, but my everyday mind closes over that fertile ground like parking lot concrete.”

I think that’s like the Raymond Chandler example in the book, in that the author creates that “here and now” feeling by using a couple of -ing words. The author uses such strong verbs and similes that the occasional use of -ing verbs doesn’t take anything away from the writing.

I’m lurking. Digesting all your brilliant posts, feeling intimidated, and lurking. I am, though, applying the lessons of this book not only to my own writing, but to the infant efforts of the fifth grade class to which I am teaching creative writing.

I just wanted you to know I’m here and paying attention.

Jane

Chapter five reminds me of a picky teacher who despised “ly” words in all forms. Perhaps she said, “Use adverbs to change the meaning of the verb,” and my high school self simplified it to mean “avoid the ‘ly’ at all cost.”

Scott Turow, in the New York Time Book Review, uses the adverb sparingly and to great effect in reviewing “The Blue Star,” the sequel to Tony Early’s novel “Jim the Boy.” Only two adverbs appear in the review. The best is Turow’s classification of Early’s novel and others like “For One More Day” as “works that so resonantly reflect the tenor of their times.” The phrase alone makes me want to read each book he referenced. “Jim the Boy” is a wonderful, nostalgic story, and I am anxious to read the sequel.

Next up in my Sunday afternoon reading is the “Houston Chronicle.” Did you know that bread, “like other items on store shelves, is quickly getting more expensive?” The details regarding the increasing cost of grocery shopping made me forget about adverbs and fret about my budget.

Three adverbs stood out as I reread my last piece. It’s about the sanctity of my Sunday afternoon routine—a nap and time to read some of the paper. Two adverbs were “whittled” away. One remained, because my seven year old can “whisper loudly.” That’s the only way he does it.

Each chapter is an excellent reminder of the “nuts and bolts” of writing. I find myself editing all my writing, even mundane email, with the few strategies we’ve covered so far. I’m looking forward to each succeeding chapter.

For my adverb hunt, I searched through a little book called, Marshfield Dreams: When I Was a Kid. Ralph Fletcher has put together a collection of short, heartfelt personal narratives about his childhood. They’re perfect examples to share with our fourth grade writers. What I noticed was that Fletcher used very few adverbs. Only one showed up describing how something was said. (”How much?” Mom asked impatiently. “How much is it.”) Others fit in the dialogue because they suited a conversational voice–we’ve heard them in our casual language. I also think Fletcher is purposely keeping the “voice” simple to convey they idea that the story-teller is Ralph, the child.

My heart beat faster as they came closer.

I could feel the eyes of my whole family studying me closely.

I remained absolutely still.

Dad bent down to examine me closely.

Fletcher is describing a game he played with his parents when he was three years old. He pretended to be a statue, which they would “buy”. The above list is all the adverbs in the three-page essay except for two more. What’s cool is that since reading Clark’s chapter about putting the important ideas at the beginning and end of sentences, I can better see the value of the next adverbs.

Slowly, I lifted my chin and looked up, first at my father, then at my mother.
“My goodness!” they shouted. “He’s alive!…Would you like to live with us?”
Shyly, I nodded. With more hugs and kisses, they welcomed me into the family.

I think my perspective on adverbs now, is to decide if they are important enough to lead the sentence or if they disappear in natural-sounding casual language. If not, I might substitute stronger verbs or just delete them as Clark advises.

I did find some good examples of the passive voice used in the book Infidel, an awesome autobiography by Ayaan Hirsi Ali:
“If we were good, we were allowed to take books home.”
“Our mother had been abandoned in a foreign country that she scorned, with three children to guide and no man to act as her anchor.”
“It wouldn’t have occurred to anyone in authority to prevent these children from being taken out of school to marry total strangers, even though most of the girls were reluctant and some were petrified.”

I have been in the habit of using active verbs for a while now– when revising I sometimes find weak verbs or “to be” verbs that I replace with stronger ones. I did recently revise an example of the overwritten, “too active” verbs that the chapter mentioned. I went back and forth in my revisions of one sentence, referring to something that either “latched in its claws and wouldn’t let go” or “sunk in its teeth and refused to leave” before finally changing it back to the original “stayed.” I think if something stands out (in a needling way) each time we read it, that’s a sign that the simpler words were better.

I hadn’t thought about there being appropriate times to use passive voice in writing. In my own WIP though, the main character is a bonded laborer, so there is so much that happens to him that is beyond his control. I’m sure I can find a couple of places where it would work well to use the passive voice to show what others are doing to him or causing to happen to him. (And if his boss ever brings himself to apologize for anything, I’ll have him do that in the passive voice like in Orwell’s observation about politicians!)