How to Write Less

The following is from my March 2024 newsletter. Sign up here to subscribe and get monthly writing tips and first dibs on my workshops delivered to your inbox.

A confession: I’m an impatient reader. Even while reading books whose topics fascinate me, I might find myself silently begging the author, “Please stop wasting my time.” (I’m no longer young. I’ve cheated death at least twice. There are dozens of books on my to-read list.)

But as with so much else about writing—and life—it’s easier to recognize shortcomings in someone else’s work than in your own! It’s possible, though.

Time away from your compositions helps. While editing my forthcoming essay collection, I’m revisiting pieces I haven’t glanced at, in some cases, in a decade. To my surprise—after all, one essay went through 11 revisions with the editor of a well-known magazine—I’m finding whole, long paragraphs that can be cut. The cuts make the essays so much better.

That’s a remarkable result of revision. But it’s not only because less can be more. It’s also because unstated material gains power through its absence.

Consider, for example, an excerpt from Citizen: An American Lyric, written and read by Claudia Rankine here. Much about her piece is brilliant. Not least, that her message is more striking because she doesn’t expound on history, culture, setting, or character. Omitting information emphasizes her point.

But suppose you don’t want to wait a decade to see clearly what needs cutting. How else can you determine what to leave out? A critique from a smart editor or writing friend can help. Yet even before you ask for feedback, you can revise in ways that will make readers care more deeply about your subject and want to keep reading.

Below are some techniques, best used during middle- or late-stage revisions:

• Read your work aloud. The parts that you find yourself skimming, speeding through, or replacing with “yada yada yada” are candidates for cutting. After all, if you don’t want to spend your breath on a passage, readers won’t want to spend their time on it.
• Make words earn their keep. I once heard an author advise that every line in a piece should illuminate character, enhance setting, advance the drama (for instance, by raising stakes), or build on the theme. Preferably, this author said, a line would accomplish two or more of these functions simultaneously. But even gauging the contribution of each line in one of these ways will make your work more compelling.
• Root out red herrings. While you ensure that lines and details lead the reader on the journey you intend for them, also look for the bits that could lead them astray. For example, if you mention spotting a cougar on your hike, the reader might expect consequences, whether a change in course or even an attack. If you mentioned the sighting merely because it was unusual, it might need to go.
• Try going without. If you’re not sure whether a passage is essential to a piece, try a version without it. Step back and see if the material’s absence leaves a gap in understanding or meaning-making. If so, return the material to your piece. The beauty (or curse) of writing is that we can revise endlessly.

Of course, determining what to keep and what to cut is subjective. You might make a case for retaining a description of the texture of the frosting on the doughnut from the pastry shop where you stopped on a bicycling trip on your way to a campsite where you first met your spouse.

But here’s another hint: if you have to work hard to justify the material’s inclusion, it might need to go.