Oh man! Yes, my friends, they are. I’ve encountered this
kill-your-to-be-verbs rule since I first started writing fourteen years ago,
yet, I still spot the little buggers all over the place: in my editing, when
reading a book, even in my own writing…gasp! It’s so easy for the sly
weasels to stink up a perfectly lovely sentence (sometimes disguised as a
contraction). So, to renew the battle against them, let’s remind ourselves the
evil caused by to-be verbs.
First, a reminder. A to-be verb is any derivative of the
verb to be. (You always knew I was brilliant.) Am, is, are, was, were,
be, being, been.
Am is Awkward
There is no reason why she should
be so snooty.
I don ’t know if I’ve ever
written a worse sentence. Do you see how the to-be verbs complicate a simple
thought? Just cutting most of them trims the sentence by almost half.
Why must she be so snooty?
Better, yes?
Here’s another example.
The grizzly is chasing the
salmon down the stream that is winding through the woods.
Especially in a more complicated sentence (one fraught with
such goodies as dependent clauses or prepositional phrases), to-be verbs only
add confusion.
The
grizzly chases the salmon down the winding stream.
Ah. Relief.
Be is Boring
Margaret was sad because Jim
said he was going to break up with her.
Ugh! The evil to-be verbs sucked the emotion right out of
that sentence. It says she’s sad, but we don ’t
feel her devastation one bit. To-be verbs are the enemies of emotion.
Tears had dampened Margaret’s cheeks
before her mind registered—much less accepted—Jim’s words. He wanted to … what?
But she wore his ring. She’d asked her best friend to stand up with her. She’d
even asked her sister. She longed to deny it, but the ache in her chest—and the
clear gaze from Jim’s blue eyes—told her he meant his words.
I got a little carried away, but it
points out something I’ve found. To-be verbs tend to lead to short-cut writing.
They lead to “telling” instead of “showing.” I don ’t
know how many times I’ve gone through a manuscript looking to search and
destroy to-be verbs and ended up not just finding adequate replacements, but
delving deeper into a character’s emotion or expounding on a plot point.
Is is Icky
The tree was tall and had orange
leaves. The swing that hung from its branch was worn from years of use. Looking
at it, Elise was pensive, remembering her childhood.
Bland ickyness oozes from those nasty little words. Imagine
replacing the was-es in that paragraph with worthy verbs.
The tree loomed from its high
post, draping its orange leaves like a protective canopy over the squeaky
swing. Eyeing it, Elise bowed her head as a memorial to her childhood and her one
joyful escape from the sadness inside.
Now we’re talking. And again, just intentionally working to
replace the to-be verbs got my creative juices flowing. I wonder about this
Elise. Did she overcome her childhood?
A good rule of thumb: No more than two to-be verbs per page.
I admit, sometimes they can’t be avoided. But if possible, slash those puppies!
What problems do you see with to-be verbs and how do you
overcome them? I’d love to hear.
And don ’t forget, I love
answering your questions. Feel free to post them in the comments or at o@ocieanna.com.
God bless and happy writing,
Ocieanna
