Overwriting
As we all know, most writing is editing. The fact is that every first draft is perfect because it does what a first draft is supposed to do: get you started. The rest of the work requires you to tap into four function math. You either expand, subtract, multiply, or divide your writing in order to bring it to completion.
Today, I’d like to bring some attention to an issue that can range from pet peeve to glaring error: overwriting. In some of the fiction I read (or listen to), there’s an overuse of the word “said” or a duplication of storytelling (protagonist experiences it) and then the person tell it to someone else or a character’s inner monologue is too much like a real inner monologue in that the person ruminates. In non-fiction, overwriting generally appears as more summary than explanation or the non-strategic repetition of detail/arguments. In any case, overwriting occurs when an author has not considered the experience of a possible audience.
I’d be remiss if I did not explain what I mean by possible audience. This is not what many students call “the reader” (a stand-in for themselves), nor is it the anxiety-produced nagging critic so many writers fear. Instead, the possible audience combines the intended audience and the expected audience. For instance, I imagine that Deesha Philyaw’s The Secret Lives of Church Ladies was written with a Black audience in mind, but also has information that helps the expected audience of non-Black readers to understand. Another example, James Baldwin published his non-fiction largely in white-run publications: he wrote for Black folks, but to white folks. The intended audience is the audience one imagines when one writes – usually the most understanding and knowledgeable audience possible. The expected audience includes both the intended audience, but also includes those who you think might be interested by virtue of where you’re publishing, where your publication is advertised, and the topic of your work.
When an author imagines both audiences, the author attends to the generosity of the intended audience and the skepticism of the expected audience. I have found, especially in academic writing, that it works best to write to the former first, especially to avoid overwriting. When I assume generosity, I provide the information one needs to know or be reminded of (literature review) and then my analysis. Counterarguments, when appropriate, come after an initial explanation. This way, I do not have to do the explanatory work of refuting counterarguments first, forcing me to then repeat my ideas in a better light. In other words, the counterargument relies on the information already shared.
As a fiction reader, I get mildly irritated by the word “said.” I find it appears more often than necessary. In banter between two characters, the context does a lot of the work. When the dialogue is long or confusing, “said” can be useful. Do you know what I find more useful? Action. What are these folks doing? Hands in pockets. Shoulders tensing up. Shrugging. Flipping hair. Blinking rapidly. Where are they looking? Staring at each other. Down at the ground. Searching for a third party. Scrutinizing a salad. “Said,” to me, feels like a missed opportunity to show readers who the characters are, or what they’re encountering.
When I went to Colgate Writing Camp (I’m sure that’s not its official name), I heard Naomi Jackson read a piece of short fiction that absolutely delighted me. What I loved about that piece was duplicated in her book The Star Side of Bird Hill. She balances descriptions of the characters with the telling of their stories. It matters whether their hair is laid or sex-tousled or whether the edges are controlled. Audiences familiar with common cultural practices understand upon first read what these details mean. Audiences who are less familiar learn though someone else’s observations (regardless of whether the characters’ observations are correct) or details in the story (this is particularly crucial when a character’s powers of observation are limited by age and/or experience).
Overwriting can be something you curtail on your own. First, you’ll want to identify the audience you really want to read your work (intended). Then, you’ll want to identify the audience you suspect will read your work (expected). After that, you’ll can choose to defamiliarize your work. Read aloud. Take some time away from the manuscript. Turn on the feature that allows the computer to read to you. Rather than defamiliarize the work, you have the option of asking beta readers to do this work for you. They should belong to either the intended or expected audience. Feel free to let me know if you need my help.
NB: I am looking for new topics to discuss all the time. Feel free to write in and let me know what questions you have.