An ing and a prayer
Jul. 1st, 2005 08:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwynOccasionally I go on the warpath about certain stylistic things I find in my own, and others’, writing. These posts were intended to help people with misconceptions, blow up some cherished and misguided myths about grammar and usage, because there are enough people out there writing instructionals (even if a lot of them in the fan world are wrong) and I never felt another was needed. But once in a while, a girl’s gotta get on her soapbox, and my latest religious war, my most recent usage jihad, is against flabby-assed, weak prose that is most often highlighted by an over-reliance on –ing words.
I’m calling these cases –ing words because to get too grammatical about the different constructions where you’ll find this would, I think, really put people off (if you doubt me, I will say the words gerund phrase, and you will run screaming). I barely understand the topic myself. And I’m not even discussing *all* –ing words, anyway (gerund phrase! ha ha just kidding), because most of them are perfectly nice words. No, I’m discussing weak, flabby constructions that employ helper words or empty phrases or "to be" verbs, creating what Crash Davis in Bull Durham called “weak-ass shit.” (Yes, he was talking about a pitch, but that’s okay. Weak-ass shit is weak-ass shit.) These are sentences where instead of using a nice, robust verb like “fell” (the past tense of fall), the writer says “were falling” or instead of just saying “Dom turned to Brian,” the writer flabs it up by saying “Dom started turning to Brian.” The poor trusting souls who’ve let me beta for them have probably noticed by now that this is a religious crusade for me. At work my purge has gone unnoticed so far. Hell, just the word "starting" itself can make steam come out my ears.
I think that, with such easy communication as we have these days, and people writing so much online, this problem is far more prevalent today than it used to be. Everywhere I look, people are “starting to move” or “beginning to think” or they “were making calls” or some such. No one appears to just do anything anymore. And while in casual conversation that’s natural, in more formal writing and in fiction, it’s weaker than weak.
A lot of writing books advise you to use verbs in their active states, because when you use them with helper words (such as the “started” above), or along with forms of the verb to be (be, am, is, are, was, were, being, been), you get unnecessarily wordy sentences. Which is all well and good, but that’s another nice way of saying weak-ass shit. The trouble is… most people don’t notice it. In fact, almost no one does. I don’t notice it much in my own writing until I go back and make edit pass after edit pass, and almost no one I know, even the best writers, ever catch it in their own stuff — let alone a beta noticing it, since few people who perform beta work are going to be that strong, either. I wrote about this a long time ago in a non-usage but writing-related post that I titled It seems to be a problem for a moment, I’m starting to think, because that’s what we get with these flabby-ass words — starting to, seems to be, blah blah. I loathe it when I do it, and hate it even more when others do it, especially because I think that if fan writers took a moment to actually read their own work before they posted it for instant fb gratification, some of these constructions might get wiped out.
Active verbs convey what Diana Hacker calls “vigor” in her Writer’s Handbook. Forms of the “to be” verbs convey almost no vigor at all. They’re weak, wimpy, wilting little flowers, and if you’ve ever had a beta or editor lose it over “to be” verbs, this is probably why. Consider these constructions:
Be verb: A bolt of lighting was responsible for the destruction of the Stargate.
Passive: The Stargate was destroyed by a lightning bolt.
Active: A lightning bolt destroyed the Stargate.
Some verbs, as Hacker notes, are just more colorful and vigorous than others, even when they’re active verbs, but you’ll rarely find a verb paired with a “to be” verb called active. Now, it may not seem earth shattering to you, but sentence after sentence of this construction will turn the reading experience into a slow slog, and the reader may not even be able to identify why it is so. The –ing is found in the tense form called the progressive — they describe actions in progress (walking, staking, shooting, drinking, etc.). The problem here is that many times people feel the need to assist the progress — while shooting is the progressive form of shoot, an uncareful writer will add a helper word, and then it’s less about progress than beginning the progress. (And I do it just as much as the next person.) Instead of dropping us right into the action (Sonny unholstered his Bren 10mm and shot the drug dealer before he could fire back), the writer will, often without thinking, flab it up with helper words that set up the start point, but don’t provide any action (Sonny began unholstering his Bren 10mm and shooting at the drug dealer before he could begin firing back). Bleh. Weak, and boring, and just blah.
If you look through your work (and really, shame on you if you don’t), and pay attention to how many –ing words you see (there, I could have written “are seeing” — and probably might have in a regular post), you can tighten your writing considerably, reduce stress on your well-informed editor, and make your work so much livelier. Helper words are sneaky little pests, probably because they are so weak we don’t see them coming. And fan writers have a terrible tendency to overdescribe, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, so every action must begin with a word like “started” or “seemed to” or some such — we are often afraid to just say “Mulder’s tears streamed down his face,” rather telling the reader where the moment begins, “Mulder’s tears started streaming down his face.” Or people don’t actually do anything, they just seem to, as in “Buffy seemed to raise the stake in anger before turning the vampire to dust.” Boy, could a sentence like that be just any livelier? Yawn. Even the tiniest “to be” verb here can weaken — your friend didn’t just laugh her ass off at your mistake; instead, she “was laughing her ass off.”
(Not all flabby constructions use –ing words, obviously, but they are often prevalent. Sometimes, though, you’ll get phrases like “In other words” or “In order to” or “Along the lines of” and so on, ad infinitum. These sorts of phrases crop up a lot in the work world, because people are often afraid of being rude, especially in America. But in fiction, they rarely belong outside of dialog, where you might use it to better represent someone’s speech.)
Of course, most readers don’t care as much about the writing as they do about just getting fanfic at all. The input I get from others is that editing for bloated, weak, overly wordy sentences is a worthless endeavor. Au contraire, I say, but I think I’m in a minority. It’s one of the main reasons I’ve stopped reading fanfic for the most part, even from people I like very much — the relentless assault of “Jim was opening the door for Blair”s and the “Bobby started running his hand down Darien’s back”s when they could just as easily, and more tightly, write “Jim opened the door for Blair” and “Bobby ran his hand down Darien’s back.” The problem has turned me away, where I sit in my cloistered space and mutter darkly about how much I hate weak-ass shit. I think I’m alone, but if this post gets even one or two writers and betas to catch more –ing words along with their weak, sneaky little helpers, I will be able to come back out into the light.
I’m calling these cases –ing words because to get too grammatical about the different constructions where you’ll find this would, I think, really put people off (if you doubt me, I will say the words gerund phrase, and you will run screaming). I barely understand the topic myself. And I’m not even discussing *all* –ing words, anyway (gerund phrase! ha ha just kidding), because most of them are perfectly nice words. No, I’m discussing weak, flabby constructions that employ helper words or empty phrases or "to be" verbs, creating what Crash Davis in Bull Durham called “weak-ass shit.” (Yes, he was talking about a pitch, but that’s okay. Weak-ass shit is weak-ass shit.) These are sentences where instead of using a nice, robust verb like “fell” (the past tense of fall), the writer says “were falling” or instead of just saying “Dom turned to Brian,” the writer flabs it up by saying “Dom started turning to Brian.” The poor trusting souls who’ve let me beta for them have probably noticed by now that this is a religious crusade for me. At work my purge has gone unnoticed so far. Hell, just the word "starting" itself can make steam come out my ears.
I think that, with such easy communication as we have these days, and people writing so much online, this problem is far more prevalent today than it used to be. Everywhere I look, people are “starting to move” or “beginning to think” or they “were making calls” or some such. No one appears to just do anything anymore. And while in casual conversation that’s natural, in more formal writing and in fiction, it’s weaker than weak.
A lot of writing books advise you to use verbs in their active states, because when you use them with helper words (such as the “started” above), or along with forms of the verb to be (be, am, is, are, was, were, being, been), you get unnecessarily wordy sentences. Which is all well and good, but that’s another nice way of saying weak-ass shit. The trouble is… most people don’t notice it. In fact, almost no one does. I don’t notice it much in my own writing until I go back and make edit pass after edit pass, and almost no one I know, even the best writers, ever catch it in their own stuff — let alone a beta noticing it, since few people who perform beta work are going to be that strong, either. I wrote about this a long time ago in a non-usage but writing-related post that I titled It seems to be a problem for a moment, I’m starting to think, because that’s what we get with these flabby-ass words — starting to, seems to be, blah blah. I loathe it when I do it, and hate it even more when others do it, especially because I think that if fan writers took a moment to actually read their own work before they posted it for instant fb gratification, some of these constructions might get wiped out.
Active verbs convey what Diana Hacker calls “vigor” in her Writer’s Handbook. Forms of the “to be” verbs convey almost no vigor at all. They’re weak, wimpy, wilting little flowers, and if you’ve ever had a beta or editor lose it over “to be” verbs, this is probably why. Consider these constructions:
Be verb: A bolt of lighting was responsible for the destruction of the Stargate.
Passive: The Stargate was destroyed by a lightning bolt.
Active: A lightning bolt destroyed the Stargate.
Some verbs, as Hacker notes, are just more colorful and vigorous than others, even when they’re active verbs, but you’ll rarely find a verb paired with a “to be” verb called active. Now, it may not seem earth shattering to you, but sentence after sentence of this construction will turn the reading experience into a slow slog, and the reader may not even be able to identify why it is so. The –ing is found in the tense form called the progressive — they describe actions in progress (walking, staking, shooting, drinking, etc.). The problem here is that many times people feel the need to assist the progress — while shooting is the progressive form of shoot, an uncareful writer will add a helper word, and then it’s less about progress than beginning the progress. (And I do it just as much as the next person.) Instead of dropping us right into the action (Sonny unholstered his Bren 10mm and shot the drug dealer before he could fire back), the writer will, often without thinking, flab it up with helper words that set up the start point, but don’t provide any action (Sonny began unholstering his Bren 10mm and shooting at the drug dealer before he could begin firing back). Bleh. Weak, and boring, and just blah.
If you look through your work (and really, shame on you if you don’t), and pay attention to how many –ing words you see (there, I could have written “are seeing” — and probably might have in a regular post), you can tighten your writing considerably, reduce stress on your well-informed editor, and make your work so much livelier. Helper words are sneaky little pests, probably because they are so weak we don’t see them coming. And fan writers have a terrible tendency to overdescribe, as I’ve mentioned in other posts, so every action must begin with a word like “started” or “seemed to” or some such — we are often afraid to just say “Mulder’s tears streamed down his face,” rather telling the reader where the moment begins, “Mulder’s tears started streaming down his face.” Or people don’t actually do anything, they just seem to, as in “Buffy seemed to raise the stake in anger before turning the vampire to dust.” Boy, could a sentence like that be just any livelier? Yawn. Even the tiniest “to be” verb here can weaken — your friend didn’t just laugh her ass off at your mistake; instead, she “was laughing her ass off.”
(Not all flabby constructions use –ing words, obviously, but they are often prevalent. Sometimes, though, you’ll get phrases like “In other words” or “In order to” or “Along the lines of” and so on, ad infinitum. These sorts of phrases crop up a lot in the work world, because people are often afraid of being rude, especially in America. But in fiction, they rarely belong outside of dialog, where you might use it to better represent someone’s speech.)
Of course, most readers don’t care as much about the writing as they do about just getting fanfic at all. The input I get from others is that editing for bloated, weak, overly wordy sentences is a worthless endeavor. Au contraire, I say, but I think I’m in a minority. It’s one of the main reasons I’ve stopped reading fanfic for the most part, even from people I like very much — the relentless assault of “Jim was opening the door for Blair”s and the “Bobby started running his hand down Darien’s back”s when they could just as easily, and more tightly, write “Jim opened the door for Blair” and “Bobby ran his hand down Darien’s back.” The problem has turned me away, where I sit in my cloistered space and mutter darkly about how much I hate weak-ass shit. I think I’m alone, but if this post gets even one or two writers and betas to catch more –ing words along with their weak, sneaky little helpers, I will be able to come back out into the light.
