Adverbs Are Not Your Real Enemy

The Geiser Adverb Thresher (Wikimedia Commons)

Any successful writer will tell you the same thing: adverbs are the enemy of good writing.

Stephen King tells us that the road to hell is paved with adverbs. Elmore Leonard calls their use “a mortal sin.” And though no one seems to agree on which famous writer said it, some famous writer or other said that “If you are using an adverb, you have got the verb wrong.”

But what is an adverb, exactly? You need to know what they are to avoid them, after all.

Well, to review what you probably learned in childhood, an adverb is simply a word (usually ending in -ly) that modifies a verb: happily, groggily, slowly, vigorously, and so on.

·       Except for the words ending in -ly that are adjectives, not adverbs (cowardly, earthly, manly, yearly);

·       And the adverbs that don’t end in -ly (seldom, somewhat, today, upstairs);

·       And the adverbs that never modify verbs (hardly, rather, vastly, very);

In short, if you put together a list of common adverbs in English—also, quickly, tomorrow, well, finally, etc.—you would only find one single quality shared by all of them: each one modifies something or other that is not a noun. That’s it. They share nothing else in common—neither their form nor their function nor where they can appear in a sentence. Adverb is a grammatical blob. It is not a part of speech at all.

And what’s so bad about using adverbs anyway, even if we assume that the category is not an overfilled garbage can (which it is)? Every page of English prose by every author in existence has at least one or two, so why should budding writers try to avoid them?

As Obama says, Let Me Be Clear: Stephen King and Elmore Leonard are actually kind of right about adverbs.

The overuse of adverbs slows down your writing (adjectives, too). It also indicates a lack of care and revision, since a modifier and the word it is modifying can frequently be revised into a single word: shouted instead of said loudly, immense for very large, etc. Adverbs really are treacherous. They make your prose tedious. You should write with verbs and nouns instead.

But though adjectives and adverbs gum up your sentences and make your prose turgid, they are not the real enemy. Not really.

The real enemy is modifiers that modify other modifiers.

Consider the phrase very few applicants. The main word here is the noun applicants. Without getting into arguments about what part of speech few is here, we can say at least that it modifies applicants. And very, of course, modifies few. And if modifiers slow down your prose (which they do), modifiers that modify other modifiers slow it down even more. Before we get to that main noun applicants, we first have to get through the modifier few; but before we can even get to that modifier, we have to get through its modifier, very. It’s as though the main noun has a doorman, and you don’t even get to see the noun’s doorman until you’ve gotten through the noun’s doorman’s doorman.

So here’s what I suggest. Linguists, grammarians, y’all can do your own thing, it’s none of my business. Been nice having you, drive home safely. Bye now.

But writers, perhaps you ought to think about modifiers in this way:

·       A modifier that modifies a noun is, by definition, an adjective (red, octagonal, horse-like, furtive);

·       A modifier that modifies a verb is, by definition, an adverb (seldom, upstairs, groggily, playfully);

·       A modifier that modifies something other than a noun or a verb IS NOT AN ADVERB, DAMMIT! You don’t get to just throw all the leftover words into a category like a meth-head on garage sale day!

·       A modifier that modifies other modifiers—very, rather, somewhat, hardly—is, let’s say, a modulator. (I’d call them intensifiers, except that some are important in hedging. Note that traditional grammars usually call these words adverbs of degree, which makes me angry but I’m letting it go. I’m letting it go.).

·       Finally, just to be complete, a modifier that modifies an entire clause (hopefully, unfortunately, luckily) we can call a sentential (terrible name, feel free to suggest alternatives).

The short version: adjectives and adverbs are essential, but must be used sparingly. If your prose is boring, find adjectives and adverbs to cut and your nouns and verbs will be able to move the reader along your sentences more smoothly and enjoyably..

Modulators, on the other hand, should be slaughtered like crab lice: mercilessly, thoroughly, and with absolute faith in the moral rightness of your actions. If one of these vile words begs for its life and provides compelling reasons to spare it, murder it anyway. If its supplication and reasoning give you pause, allow yourself the luxury of murdering it during the next round of revision instead—but leave yourself a note so you don’t forget.

As Mark Twain famously says, anytime you feel tempted to write the word very, replace it with the word fucking. Your editor will cross the word out and your prose will thereby be improved.

(I may be paraphrasing slightly.)