I want to talk about fat, specifically, how to cut it in your short fiction. Every single word in a short story is a gem. Unlike novels, where you might get away with a bit of rambling, short stories absolutely demand immediate impact, surgical precision, and total economy.
Believe me, I’ve seen it (and written it too!): flabby writing. You know, the kind that’s weighed down by too many adverbs, phrases that repeat themselves, and explanations that just go on and on. This doesn’t just slow down your reader; it actually weakens your story. It dulls the emotional punch, hides the important details, and honestly, it betrays the very soul of what you’re trying to say.
This isn’t just about making your writing sound “better.” This is about mastering how to pack a punch in fewer words. It’s about writing prose that shines with purpose, making sure every single syllable makes your story’s heart beat stronger. I’m going to give you some practical steps, point out common mistakes, and give you the tools to turn your wordy prose into something brilliant.
Why Every Word Counts Even More Than You Think
In short fiction, a reader’s attention is super fragile. It’s easily broken by too much linguistic clutter. Think about a dense fog versus a perfectly clear windowpane. One hides things, the other shows them. Unnecessary words are the fog, making your characters hazy, messing up your plot, and muffling your themes.
They suck out the momentum, reduce the tension, and most importantly, drain your story of its emotional speed. Every extra word is like a tiny chip away at your reader’s patience, a micro-pause in their journey with your story. Pile up enough of those micro-pauses, and you’ve lost them completely.
The goal isn’t just to be brief for the sake of being brief. It’s about being precise for maximum impact. It’s about getting your narrative down to its most powerful form, where every image, every action, every line of dialogue truly resonates with more meaning.
How to Spot the Culprits: Identifying Flabby Prose
You can’t trim something until you know what it is. Unnecessary words aren’t always glaringly obvious. Often, they’re hiding in plain sight, pretending to be harmless descriptions or connecting words. To learn how to spot them, you need to change how you look at things, training your eye to focus on efficiency and impact. This means really asking yourself: Is this word absolutely essential? Does it tell me something new, or is it just saying something again that I already know? Could I say this entire phrase with one stronger verb? This analytical approach is the key to cutting words effectively.
My Surgical Strike: Pruning Adverbs and Weak Verbs
The biggest offenders, ironically, are often the words we use to make things sound better. Adverbs, especially those ending in “-ly,” are famous for pointing to a weak verb choice. Instead of writing that a character “walked quickly,” ask yourself if a stronger verb like “strode,” “rushed,” or “scurried” could show both the action and its speed. Similarly, relying on weak verbs with prepositions (“was running” instead of “ran”) just adds unnecessary bulk.
First Example: Adverb Overload
My Original Thought: She slowly, carefully, and cautiously opened the old, creaking door.
My Analysis: “Slowly,” “carefully,” and “cautiously” all mean pretty much the same thing. “Creaking” is a good specific detail, but I can make it part of the verb.
My Better Version: She eased open the old, groaning door. (Or: She eased the old door open.)
The Impact: “Eased” implies slowness and care, getting rid of three adverbs. “Groaning” is a stronger, more evocative word than “creaking,” subtly hinting at how old the door is and its condition.
Second Example: Weak Verb + Adverb
My Original Thought: He really wanted to go home badly.
My Analysis: “Really wanted” and “badly” are redundant. The desire is already clear.
My Better Version: He yearned for home.
The Impact: “Yearned” is a powerful, active verb that shows intense desire in just one word, creating a much stronger emotional feeling.
My Advice to You: Read through your draft. Specifically highlight every single adverb. For each one, challenge yourself: can a stronger, more precise verb make this adverb unnecessary? If you see “was,” “is,” “were,” “are,” “has,” or “have” followed by a continuous verb, think about whether a more direct, active verb could take its place.
Condensing Redundant Phrases and Qualifiers
Writers often fall into using phrases that simply re-state information or qualify it unnecessarily. This includes phrases like “in order to,” “with the exception of,” “due to the fact that,” and “at this point in time.” Also, qualifiers like “just,” “simply,” “very,” “quite,” and “rather” often water down what you’re trying to say instead of making it stronger.
Third Example: Redundant Phrases
My Original Thought: In order to succeed, you must work hard. Due to the fact that he was ill, he couldn’t attend the meeting.
My Analysis: “In order to” can almost always be replaced by “to.” “Due to the fact that” is just too wordy.
My Better Version: To succeed, you must work hard. Because he was ill, he couldn’t attend the meeting.
The Impact: Shorter, punchier, and says the same thing much more efficiently.
Fourth Example: Unnecessary Qualifiers
My Original Thought: She was very tired, just wanting to sleep. The sound was quite loud.
My Analysis: “Very” and “just” often add nothing and can even make your statement weaker. “Quite” is a timid qualifier.
My Better Version: She was exhausted, needing only sleep. The sound was deafening.
The Impact: “Exhausted” and “deafening” are strong words that already do the work, meaning you don’t need qualifiers. This makes for a more impactful statement.
My Advice to You: Make a list of common redundant phrases and qualifiers you tend to use. Search for them specifically in your manuscript. Challenge every single one. Can you remove it entirely? Can you replace the whole phrase with one word or a more direct construction?
The Power of Being Specific: Eliminating Vague Language
Vague language forces your reader to guess or, even worse, disengage from your story. Instead of broad, general terms, aim for concrete, sensory details. This isn’t just about word count, but about how effective your words are. One single, precise word can tell you more and create a stronger image than several vague ones.
Fifth Example: Generic Noun
My Original Thought: He picked up a thing from the table.
My Analysis: “Thing” tells me absolutely nothing specific.
My Better Version: He picked up the chipped ceramic mug from the table.
The Impact: Now the reader sees a specific object, getting details about its condition, which could even hint at the character’s living situation or personality.
Sixth Example: Abstract Concept
My Original Thought: She felt a lot of emotions.
My Analysis: “Emotions” is too broad and doesn’t tell the reader which emotions.
My Better Version: Grief constricted her throat. OR Rage tightened her fists. OR A thrill of fear shot through her.
The Impact: Specific emotions are communicated directly, avoiding the need for more explanation and grounding the abstract feeling in concrete physical sensations.
My Advice to You: Identify abstract nouns and general descriptions. Ask yourself: What exactly is this? How does it look, sound, smell, taste, or feel? Replace the vague with the vivid.
Trimming Prepositional Phrases
Prepositional phrases (like “on the table,” “in the house,” “by means of”) are important for showing how things relate to each other in a sentence. However, too many of them can make sentences clunky and slow down your reader. Often, a strong verb or adjective can replace an entire prepositional phrase.
Seventh Example: Overuse of Prepositions
My Original Thought: The man of great wealth lived in a house with a chimney on the roof.
My Analysis: “Of great wealth” can be one word. “With a chimney” and “on the roof” can be combined or simplified.
My Better Version: The wealthy man lived in a house with a rooftop chimney.
The Impact: The sentence is shorter and more direct while giving the same information. “Wealthy” is more concise than the phrase.
Eighth Example: Redundant Prepositions
My Original Thought: He got up out of the chair.
My Analysis: “Up out of” is a common but unnecessary construction. One or two prepositions are usually enough.
My Better Version: He got out of the chair. OR He rose from the chair.
The Impact: “Got out of” works fine; “rose from” is even more concise and slightly more formal.
My Advice to You: Scan your sentences specifically for long strings of prepositional phrases. Can you rephrase the sentence to use fewer of them? Can one adjective or adverb replace a whole phrase? Aim for a balance where things are still clear without too many prepositions.
Streamlining Dialogue and Dialogue Tags
Dialogue should sound real, but in fiction, “real” doesn’t necessarily mean an exact transcript of a real conversation. Real talk is often full of filler words, repetitions, and hesitations. In written dialogue, every word must move the plot forward, reveal character, or build tension. Similarly, dialogue tags (“he said,” “she asked”) should be subtle, blending into the background.
Ninth Example: Filler Words in Dialogue
My Original Thought: “Well, you know, I guess I’ll just go over there, I mean, later, kind of.”
My Analysis: “Well,” “you know,” “I guess,” “just,” “I mean,” “kind of” are all common conversational fillers that add no real meaning in written dialogue.
My Better Version: “I’ll go over later.”
The Impact: The character’s intention is clear and concise, without dragging the reader through linguistic clutter.
Tenth Example: Overly Descriptive Dialogue Tags
My Original Thought: “I can’t believe it,” she exclaimed excitedly, her eyes wide with shock.
“No way,” he muttered angrily, his jaw clenched tight.
My Analysis: The adverbs and descriptions try to tell us the emotion, but the dialogue itself should imply it, or a strong, simple tag should be enough. The descriptive phrases are often redundant if the dialogue or what happens next already shows the emotion.
My Better Version: “I can’t believe it,” she said, her eyes wide with shock.
“No way,” he grumbled. (Or even just, “No way.” if the emotion is clear from context.)
The Impact: The emotional state is shown through “said” and body language, or the powerful verb “grumbled,” making the tag less intrusive. Often, if the dialogue itself is strong enough, you don’t need a tag at all for a little bit.
My Advice to You: Read your dialogue out loud. Does it sound natural, or does it sound like a nervous ramble? Cut unnecessary greetings (“Hello. How are you?”) unless they tell you something crucial about the character or situation. For dialogue tags, stick to “said” or “asked” as your default. Only use stronger verbs (“whispered,” “shouted,” “muttered”) if the specific way of speaking is absolutely vital to the scene and can’t be figured out another way. Avoid adverbs in dialogue tags; let the dialogue (or action) speak for itself.
Sculpting Sentences: Eliminating Redundancy and Repetition
Redundancy is when you repeat information or ideas unnecessarily. This can happen in one sentence, across paragraphs, or even throughout the whole story. Repetition, while sometimes used for emphasis, often just shows a lack of precision or a missed chance to vary sentence structure and vocabulary.
Eleventh Example: Internal Sentence Redundancy
My Original Thought: He walked forward into the room. (Where else would you walk into a room?)
The final outcome was positive. (Outcomes are always final.)
She observed him with her eyes. (How else would she observe?)
My Analysis: Many phrases have redundancies built right in.
My Better Version: He walked into the room.
The outcome was positive.
She observed him.
The Impact: Leaner prose, free from the logical redundancies that can distract smart readers.
Twelfth Example: Repetitive Concepts/Phrasing
My Original Thought: The old house was old, with ancient gables and a very old porch. It had stood there for many, many years, defying time.
My Analysis: The idea of age is repeated too much.
My Better Version: The ancient house stood with sagging gables and a crumbling porch, defying the centuries.
The Impact: One strong word (“ancient”) carries the weight, and “centuries” evokes a long time more elegantly than “many, many years.”
My Advice to You: After you’ve written a passage, read it specifically looking for repeated words or ideas. Could you use a synonym? Can the idea be implied or combined with another sentence? Are you telling the reader something they already know or something that’s already clear?
Mastering Active Voice and Direct Language
Passive voice (like “The ball was thrown by the boy”) often adds unnecessary words and makes sentences less dynamic. Active voice (“The boy threw the ball”) is almost always stronger, more concise, and more direct. Similarly, avoid roundabout phrases or overly formal language when simpler, direct language will do the job.
Thirteenth Example: Passive Voice
My Original Thought: The decision was made by the committee. The door was opened by him.
My Analysis: The person doing the action is clearer and more concise in active voice.
My Better Version: The committee made the decision. He opened the door.
The Impact: More vigorous, direct, and shorter.
My Fourteenth Example: Indirect/Formal Language
My Original Thought: It is incumbent upon us to proceed with all due haste.
He put forth the assertion that the plan would fail.
My Analysis: Overly formal or indirect phrasing.
My Better Version: We must proceed quickly.
He asserted that the plan would fail. (Or, simply: He claimed the plan would fail.)
The Impact: More natural, direct, and concise.
My Advice to You: Use a grammar checker to highlight passive voice, but don’t just accept all its suggestions blindly. Evaluate each instance: Is there a specific reason to use passive voice (for example, if you don’t know who did the action or it’s not important)? Otherwise, switch to active. For overly formal phrases, ask yourself if you would naturally say it in a conversation. If not, simplify.
The Power of Implication and Subtext
One of the most powerful ways to cut the fat isn’t about what you say, but about what you don’t say. Skilled writers imply emotions, events, and character traits, trusting the reader to put the pieces together. Over-explaining or spelling everything out robs the reader of the satisfaction of discovery and often just adds extra words.
Fifteenth Example: Over-explanation of Emotion
My Original Thought: She was very angry and felt a burning rage inside her. She showed her anger by clenching her fists and teeth.
My Analysis: “Very angry” and “burning rage inside her” are redundant. Clenched fists and teeth show anger, so directly stating “showed her anger” is unnecessary.
My Better Version: Rage burned through her. Her fists clenched, her teeth gritted.
The Impact: The emotion is implied through its physical manifestation and its internal effect, making it much more powerful and concise. The reader feels her anger rather than being told about it.
Sixteenth Example: Explaining the Obvious
My Original Thought: The sun rose in the sky, signaling the start of a new day.
He drank the water because he was thirsty.
My Analysis: The sun always rises in the sky, and its rising always means a new day. People drink water because they are thirsty.
My Better Version: The sun rose.
He drank the water.
The Impact: Trust your reader’s intelligence. Some facts are universally understood and don’t need to be stated explicitly.
My Advice to You: After significant events or emotional moments, review your prose. Have you over-explained your characters’ feelings? Can you show emotion through action, dialogue, or internal thoughts instead of just stating it directly? For descriptions, are you telling the reader what to see, or are you showing them the details that allow them to see it for themselves?
The Grand Final Cut: The Read-Aloud and Reverse Outline Method
Once you’ve made your initial passes using all the techniques above, there are two powerful overarching strategies that can reveal hidden fat.
1. The Read-Aloud Method
Reading your story out loud forces you to experience it at a different pace. You’ll stumble over awkward phrasing, notice sentences that repeat themselves, and hear the places where the story lags. If you have to gasp for breath or a sentence feels too long, that’s probably a spot where you can trim. Monotonous passages that just drone on without purpose will immediately become obvious.
My Advice to You: Print your story. Read it out loud, slowly, listening to the rhythm and flow of each sentence. Mark any sentences that feel clunky, too long, or unnecessary. Don’t be afraid to read it to a trusted beta reader; a fresh set of ears will catch even more.
2. The Reverse Outline Method
This technique involves outlining your story after you’ve written it. For each paragraph (or even smaller sections), write down its main purpose or what information it conveys.
- Does this paragraph move the plot forward?
- Does it reveal something about a character?
- Does it build tension or mood?
- Does it introduce crucial world-building?
- Is the information in it truly new and essential?
If a paragraph or sentence doesn’t serve a clear, vital purpose, it’s a candidate for removal or big consolidation. You might find whole paragraphs dedicated to explanation that could be woven into action or dialogue, or descriptions that could just be implied.
My Advice to You: Go through your story paragraph by paragraph. In the margin or a separate document, write a one-sentence summary of what that paragraph does. If you find paragraphs with summaries that repeat themselves (like, “describes the setting,” “describes the setting again”) or paragraphs whose purpose is vague (“just describes things”), those are the areas to attack. Think about whether the information can be combined, condensed, or gotten rid of entirely.
What I Believe: The Art of the Lean Sentence
Cutting the fat isn’t just a mechanical process of deleting words. It’s a fundamental shift in how you approach writing. It’s about respecting your story, respecting your reader’s time, and being utterly committed to clarity and impact. It’s about realizing that every word is a choice, and that the strongest choices are often the most efficient ones.
Think of your prose like a sculpture. First, you rough out the raw material. Then, you start chipping away, not randomly, but with a clear vision of the form you want to reveal. Every chip, every stroke, helps bring the underlying beauty into sharper focus. This isn’t about creating bland, minimalist writing; it’s about crafting lean, powerful sentences that hum with meaning and drive the reader forward. It’s about finding that single, perfect word where you might have initially used five, and trusting that word to do its job.
This discipline makes you keenly aware of language, forcing you to choose verbs that leap, nouns that specify, and adjectives that truly ignite. It’s a process that makes your writing stronger, more vivid, and ultimately, more memorable. Embrace the cut, and watch your short fiction transform from good to unforgettable.