You’ve all heard of clean eating. Those cleanses you go on that rid your body of toxins and (sometimes, although definitely not always) pounds. You have to cut out the bland white flour, the processed sugar, and the greasy butter. Cream, cheese, basically anything white are kicked out of your diet too. Well, I was thinking that I should apply this to my craft and exercise clean writing.
I don’t know about you, but I add a number of words when I type that are nothing more than ineffective space-occupying fluff. And the worst part is, I know I’m doing it, but I can’t help it. I console myself with the following thoughts:
– It’s a first draft.
– Every writer’s first drafts must be imperfect.
– The more I write, the better I will get at setting down superior sentences from the get-go.
The other day, I was revising a chunk of text I wrote for my new book Ghostboy, Chameleon, and the Duke of Graffiti. I cut out many words, especially the heap of descriptions I’d thrown in, and reworked my sentences, combining some and rephrasing others. It’s still miles away from being perfect, but it’s better, cleaner, straighter to the point. Once I was done trimming and tweaking, I rolled my desk chair back so I couldn’t reach my keyboard anymore and read the changed section out loud.
BEFORE
The chair’s feet chafed against the black marble floor. Our school had been a private house back in the 1800s and the high-ceilinged cafeteria had been the ballroom. It was one of the only rooms they hadn’t redecorated with linoleum and eggshell paint. The walls were cherry wood inlaid with old mirrors and the floors still shone black, which made the copse of cheap, plywood tables and steel chairs stick out like eyesores.
AFTER
It had been raining all morning so no one hung out in the quad for lunch. Instead, the whole student body was packed inside the black marble cafeteria, which had been a ballroom when our school had been a private home. To this day, it remained one of the only spaces not decorated with linoleum and eggshell paint, which made the plywood tables and steel chairs stick out like eyesores.
The differences are subtle. Instead of introducing the cafeteria with chair scraping, I introduce it with students. And then I combined sentence 2, 3, and 4 to smooth out the tone. And finally, I deleted a lot of the descriptive words that might’ve sounded poetic, but were way too hefty, like “copse” and “high-ceilinged”.
I had a friend read the edited version, but not the first version. When I asked her how she pictured the space, she saw wooden walls and high ceilings. And yet, as you can see, I mention neither in the edited version. Readers have a fantastic imagination and can paint pictures in their minds without needing to be fed each and every tiny detail. However much I adore descriptions, I’m the first person who will chop them out if I feel they are encumbering my story.
“Less is more.”