[I posted this piece four years ago and thought it worthwhile to repeat it.]
Today is Labor Day in the U.S., a national holiday. The holiday is “a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country” (a quote from the official U.S. Department of Labor page).
However, my mind wondered about a variation of the main word “labor.” Thought of “laborious.” A quick look found this definition of the adjective:
(of speech or writing style) showing obvious signs of effort and lacking in fluency, “his slow, laborious style”
https://www.google.com/search?q=laborious
Then I found this scathing Amazon review, which helps define this more clearly: “Dense and seemingly exhaustive in its research, this book was a tedious read at best. The author’s choice of words and phrasing feel as if it was written in the late 1800s; so much so as to be annoying as if the author believes he is from the period that he is writing about.” (Amazon link)
Ouch!
Check Your Work
Take a quick look at your writing. Could you delete 20% of your most recent chapter and not lose any meaning or storytelling? Could it be that the lure of “more words” has crept into your style? Are you being pedantic? Using too many thesaurus words? Throwing words at the scene or topic to see what sticks?
Dare I write the next paragraph in this blog? Or did I already make my point? Do I need a second illustration here? Do I really need to explain my point further?
No more labor for me.
[I left the comments from the last time because they add to the conversation! And we can’t remove an Andrew poem!]
There are writers who, so sadly,
with their own voice are quite smitten,
and their work is thus, and badly
overdone and overwritten
to the point where pedantry
becomes a sick and lasting joke,
returning us to peasantry
from which we’ve only lately woke.
Thesaurus words and archaic diction
are not simply silly pose;
they call forth a predilection
back to the mire from which we rose
in defiance of what is thought
as cultured work, but is just rot.
This advice reminds me some things I learned from Elmore Leonard:
“Easy on the adverbs, exclamation points, and especially hooptedoodle.”
and…”If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.”
and… “I try to leave out the parts people skip.”
But the first author I thought of when I began reading your description and reference to the Amazon link was Charles Dickens. Great stories, but WOW, that laborious language.
Thanks for the good reminder to “get to the point.”
You made your point. It was taken well.
Lol.
Perhaps this English translation of a short poem by the French poet Boileau sums it up:
“Slowly make haste, and without losing courage;
Twenty times redo your work;
Polish and re-polish endlessly,
And sometimes add, but often take away.”
Steve,
First, while reading your blog over the last couple of years, I’ve found that you and your crew consistently deliver interesting, insightful, and often humorous observations and advice.
However, personally, I have a really hard time reading most works written after 1890, precisely because the vocabulary and style of modern works read much less intelligently and beautifully than older writings. I’m an intelligent, educated adult, and when I pick up a book, supposedly written for an adult audience, that is composed solely of words and sentences that my second grader could write, it’s an insult to my intelligence and a waste of my time. I find good stories are a dime a dozen, but good stories told in an interesting way that challenges the reader are increasingly rare.
I realize I’m in a minority of readership, but I think it’s a larger minority than a lot of industry professionals realize—a woefully neglected market. I see quite a bit of articles like this from industry insiders (some times, I dare say, “industry snobs,” though present company excluded, of course), but I also see comments on those articles from a few dissenters like myself, letting me know I’m not alone.
Case in point, I checked out the book excoriated in that review snippet you quoted. First, despite, that scathing paragraph, the reviewer actually gave it 3 STARS—NOT a negative rating. So, even though he hated the style, overall, he still liked the book. Second, the book actually has a 4.5 STAR rating out of 280 reviews, plus a plethora of accolades from literary critics and field peers, and a couple of award nominations to boot. Now, obviously, people THINKING it’s a good book doesn’t mean it IS a good book. But it does indicate there’s an audience (market) for it.
In fact, it seems every time a “classical throwback” hits the market, it’s at least nominally successful. Take Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell in 2004. A straight-up 19th-century style impersonator that became an instant, international, critically acclaimed, New York Times best-selling, multi-award-winning smash that yielded a ratings-giant BBC adaptation a full 11 years later. Sure, there are plenty of critical audience reviews lamenting its “archaic” and “stilted” style, but there are far more reader reviews praising it. Of course, not all throwbacks are as successful, or have the same “fantasy appeal,” as Strange, but they continue to be sporadically published, and it seems they usually find an audience and garner critical praise.
Not to mention the fact that classics themselves are still selling, and not just for academic or historical purposes—people still actually ENJOY reading them! Well, I do, at least. But maybe I’m just a “laborious” guy! 🙂
My favorite labor reference: “Let us labor, therefore, to enter into His rest…” Hebrews 4:11
First of all, what you’ve said about deleting words in your writing that you don’t need is very true. That’s what self-editing is for. If the sentence sounds right and makes sense without the modifiers, take them away. It tightens the writing.
However, this review you found on a book is exactly why I will never give a bad review on any book, even if I hated it. Not everyone likes my style of writing or the style I enjoy reading. Some people love works that sound as if they were written in the 1800s. My husband is one of them. He can’t stand reading most of the books I read.
Just because we don’t care for a story or the way someone else wrote it, doesn’t mean it’s not going to be enjoyed by someone else. If I can’t give at least a 3 star rating to a book, and tactfully explain why it wasn’t a 5 star for me, I don’t give any review.
Over the years I’ve been writing, I’ve seen many a new writer/author cut to the quick by another, who in my opinion was probably trying to present themselves as though born an author and never had to go through the growing pains. None of us are experts. We are all at different levels of writer maturity. We all have our own styles. We all have our own reader base.
Just my opinion. Take it or leave it.
Great comment, Sharon! And I’m with your husband. I’ll take the 19th-century any day!
Great question! I’d love to hear your answer.
Thanks for the advice. Especially the lure to create more words to increase word count. God help us all! Enjoyed Sharon Connell’s comments God bless you Steve.
Ha ha! Fair point, Steve. I’m revising now, so I better take a look! Do I really need one more person chasing a chicken through the forest … or will my previous twelve chicken chases suffice?
Well, it depends. When I think I’m writing clear and concise, I may not be. And when I think I’m not writing clear and concise, I may be.
Laborious decisions indeed.
Your laborious work made me laugh ???? ????
Your point has been belabored, Steve.
Dear Steve,
Brilliant and informative as always.
Steve, you made my day! Thank you so much for the mention.
I’m low on oxygen these days,
which leads to some confusion
in the myriad sundry ways
of words, and how to use them,
like ‘pedantic’, which, misread
(it’s an example, what the heck),
placed an image in my head
of that which hangs ’round lady’s neck,
and thus to be a pedant
is something I might fancy,
abiding where it’s fragrant,
though yes, it might be chancy
to hang suspended, heart and soul
upon a slender chain of gold.
Barb has become my editor of late, and it’s often that I hear, ‘Did you REALLY mean…’, or, more ominously, ‘I don’t think you want to post that to Facebook.’
.
‘I don’t think you want to post that to Facebook.’ Bahahaha!! Wise words.
Pam, Barb is indeed a fount of wisdom, common sense, and fun.
Andrew, did we really marry the same woman??
Sy, Barb is truly unique. She puts up with a lot, including me once, on a dare, twirling down the produce aisle at the grocery store, singing ‘I Feel Pretty’.
Singing is perhaps not the right word. I have a very deep voice, and it came out more like the vocalisations of a hung-over bullfrog.
To reduce my words, I like to apply Proverbs 25:11 — “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold In settings of silver.” Message: Check your apples!
Then there are us fantasy writers … we really love the thesaurus! haha!
I once had a thesaurus,
but I’ll tell you flat,
the relationship went bad for us
when she ate the neighbour’s cat.
She was green and scaly,
with eyes that looked askance,
and dozed where it was shady
‘midst the blooming plants,
but one fell day the cat appeared
for curiosity’s fate,
and up with speed ol’ Thessie reared,
pursuing cat through garden gate
and pouncing with a shriek of glee
fomented the catastrophe.
Love this, Andrew, and your other poems herein!
Thanks, Deb!
I never, ever commit the literary sins you so ably and justifiably admonish us to avoid at all costs, and furthermore, as elucidated more specifically (and indeed, in a more scholarly manner) in references 1 through 68, neither do I ever use five words when 25 will do, (or is it perhaps the other way round). Needless to say (and yet I will say it) the last thing any writer wants to do is bore the reader, which can lead to boredom, and a sense of wanting to be doing something else, nay, anything else other than reading things like this comment. And (just as an aside), the use of parenthesis is a perfectly wonderful way to sneak in just a few more than absolutely required phrases, and don’t really count. Right? So, yes, to sum up, without neglecting any of the finer points of my point, we must absolutely strive to not overly belabor our poor audience with laborious, ponderous, repetitive and unnecessary words, and above all know when to simply stop. Which I occasionally have a hard time with. But not now. The End. See?
Sy,
Your blather is palaverous and prolix. Far be it from me to extend beneficence when confronted by extensive wordplay when a singular word might suffice.
Dude!
HA! Sy, your paragraph is a relatively close expression of some of the writing I’ve seen over the years.
Steve
Thanks, Steve. While written in jest, the reality is (as a few editors will attest) this really is something I struggle with. So thanks for the reminder.
Yikes. Convicted!
She was sixty years old. She died in her cubicle and nobody noticed for four days.
In her sacrifice she has left us all a profound message to consider on this labor day.
-Life is a profound gift we have all been given. When given the opportunity to dance, take it.