Game: How many words?

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StephanieZie

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"Never use two words when one will do."

We all try to avoid vagueness and redundancy in our writing. We want to be efficient with our words and to-the-point with our ideas. To practice this skill, I sometimes like to see just how many words I can pare down from a sentence or paragraph and still express the same general idea. For instance, I'm going to start with a quote from The Snows of Kilimanjaro by Hemingway:


It had begun very simply. She liked what he wrote and she had always envied the life he led. She thought he did exactly what he wanted to. The steps by which she had acquired him and the way in which she had finally fallen in love with him were all part of a regular progression in which she had built herself a new life and he had traded away what remained of his old life.

Their courtship began with her admiration for his writing and hitherto spontaneous lifestyle. For her, it represented a new beginning. For him, it was an ending.

I cut 50 words, taking it from 76 to 26. Of course, this is overkill, and alot of the nuance is lost. This isn't meant to be a revising How-To, nor is it a critique of the lines in question. It's just for fun.

Here's what to do:
1) Edit and trim the lines of the poster above you. Try to keep as much of the meaning intact as possible, but be ruthless.
2) If somebody's already done one, but you think you can get it even shorter, go for it.
3) Post something yourself. It can be your own work (preferably first draft/unedited), or a line from a book, article, or any source you like* Lets try to keep it under 100 words per snippet.

*I'm assuming it's okay to use other author's lines for this without violating RYFW because, as I said, we're not critiquing or trying to make the lines better, only shorter, nearly to the point of absurdity. If that's still not cool, mods, let me know and I'll edit this post ASAP to say you can only post your own work.

I'll start by posting a line from my WIP, unedited first draft. For warm-up purposes, I tried to dig through for something that was particularly horrendous and in need of trimming, but you don't have to. Any line will do. The point of this exercise is to become so adept at trimming that you can cut from even the tightest of prose. Here we go:

"James rolls onto his side and sits up, his back and neck screaming at him for sleeping on the hard floor. His mind is sparing him from getting hit with everything all at once. First he feels the cold, then the hangover, then the discomfort from laying on the floor."
 
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Sonsofthepharaohs

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"James rolls onto his side and sits up, his back and neck screaming at him for sleeping on the hard floor. His mind is sparing him from getting hit with everything all at once. First he feels the cold, then the hangover, then the discomfort from laying on the floor."

James rolls over and sits up with a groan. Tongue like leather, head pounding. A yawn gives way to shivers, and vertebrae crunch into place as he stretches. Sleeping on the floor was not a good idea.
 

StephanieZie

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James rolls over and sits up with a groan. Tongue like leather, head pounding. A yawn gives way to shivers, and vertebrae crunch into place as he stretches. Sleeping on the floor was not a good idea.

Oooh, very nice. Got any lines to put up for slaughter? You know. For fun. :evil
 

mrsmig

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"James rolls onto his side and sits up, his back and neck screaming at him for sleeping on the hard floor. His mind is sparing him from getting hit with everything all at once. First he feels the cold, then the hangover, then the discomfort from laying on the floor."

"Another wake-up opening," the agent muttered, and pressed delete.

(Sorry, I couldn't resist. Carry on. :D)
 
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mrsmig

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As penance for the above, I'll offer up the unedited opening of one of my WIPs (it's slightly over 100; apologies):

"You'll beeeEEEE swell! You'll be GREAT!"

I bellowed the words so that they ricocheted off the brick alley walls and whanged against the iron fire escape. Satisfied, I nodded and took another gulp of red wine. It was some kind of plonk blend, the kind of thing Orianna always bought because it was cheap, but it was exactly what I wanted. I took a deep breath and continued: "Gonna have the whole world on a PLATE!" At the end of the phrase I added a Merman-esque curlique and flicked my boa across my right shoulder. It was a bad move; feathers went everywhere and the end of the boa ended up in the wine glass.

----

Hack away.
 
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TomKnighton

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"You'll beeeEEEE swell! You'll be GREAT!"

I bellowed the words so that they ricocheted off the brick alley walls and whanged against the iron fire escape. Satisfied, I nodded and took another gulp of red wine. It was some kind of plonk blend, the kind of thing Orianna always bought because it was cheap, but it was exactly what I wanted. I took a deep breath and continued: "Gonna have the whole world on a PLATE!" At the end of the phrase I added a Merman-esque curlique and flicked my boa across my right shoulder. It was a bad move; feathers went everywhere and the end of the boa ended up in the wine glass.

----

Hack away.

"You'll be swell. You'll be great."

I yelled the words and listened to the echo. I took a sip of the cheap wine, the kind Orianna liked to buy. It was perfect for me right now. I continued in my best Ethel Merman, "Gonna have the whole world on a PLATE!" A swish of my boa--an attempt at a flourish--sent feathers flying everywhere.

My own, from my own WIP:

Jessie Stone hadn't set foot in a bar in over six years. It's not like there was a lot of opportunity in prison for obvious reasons, and he had been a little focused on other things since getting out. Tonight, he'd break that streak.

Of course, that streak hadn't been because of some religious conversion or newfound sobriety. He had never been a hard drinker in the first place, mostly since alcohol dulled the senses and slowed the reactions, and he still wasn't much in the way of being faithful. Hell, he didn't really even come to bars to pick up women. No, he had come to bars to meet contacts for his profession.
 

thedark

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"

Jessie Stone hadn't set foot in a bar in over six years. It's not like there was a lot of opportunity in prison for obvious reasons, and he had been a little focused on other things since getting out. Tonight, he'd break that streak.

Of course, that streak hadn't been because of some religious conversion or newfound sobriety. He had never been a hard drinker in the first place, mostly since alcohol dulled the senses and slowed the reactions, and he still wasn't much in the way of being faithful. Hell, he didn't really even come to bars to pick up women. No, he had come to bars to meet contacts for his profession.

For the first time since his release, Jessie Stone stepped foot in a bar. Six years of prison, but tonight, he was getting back into the business.

Of course, it looses some voice that way... but still. This is fun. :)

-----

From my draft, The Dark. I tried to select a passage that had some trimming potential - I'm pretty to the point as a general rule.

He’s brought oatmeal. It’s hot, and there are little chunks of walnut and dried berries mixed in. The only oatmeal I’ve had has come from dry packets found in the back of otherwise barren cupboards--they have nothing on this. He’s also brought a small thermos and some melon slices. He’s not eating with me this time, and with the warm bowl in my hand and the blanket around my shoulders, I don’t care. If he was going to drug me, it would have been in the water.
 
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StephanieZie

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He’s brought oatmeal. It’s hot, and there are little chunks of walnut and dried berries mixed in. The only oatmeal I’ve had has come from dry packets found in the back of otherwise barren cupboards--they have nothing on this. He’s also brought a small thermos and some melon slices. He’s not eating with me this time, and with the warm bowl in my hand and the blanket around my shoulders, I don’t care. If he was going to drug me, it would have been in the water.

He brought me a thermos and melon slices, plus hot oatmeal with nuts and berries mixed in. It's much better than the instant kind I'm used to. He's not partaking, but I'm too cozy under my blanket to suspect any funny business. He's already had ample opportunities to poison me.

That took me awhile! From 88 to 50 words.

Here's mine, 76 words:

I had no prior warning until the world shook for a second of the soccer ball speeding towards my head. All I knew was a massive force that sent my world off-kilter and my ears screaming. Then pain, dull and throbbing through my skull. I gripped the sides of my head in an effort to reorient myself. Someone was yelling at me, but it seemed muted and far-away, until the voices came into focus.
 

Zach Lancer

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"I didn't see the football coming. I just remember my world going off-kilter and the ringing in my ears. And the dull pain through my skull. Someone yelled at me, from far away I think."

35 words. Ooh, I like this game. Have a go at mine, it's from an older, unfinished draft of a short story:

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The whistle of the departing train pierced the cold air. They kissed, Laura's hands on his cheeks. Her lips tasted like the cigarette they'd shakily shared at the station entrance. The smell of disinfectant from the operation still lingered on her hands. He shuddered from the bright memory of pain in his chest where Laura had torn open his flesh, broken his ribs and opened his heart to hide the alchemical abomination now ticking away the heartbeats to doom.[/FONT]
 
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StephanieZie

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The whistle of the departing train pierced the cold air. They kissed, Laura's hands on his cheeks. Her lips tasted like the cigarette they'd shakily shared at the station entrance. The smell of disinfectant from the operation still lingered on her hands. He shuddered from the bright memory of pain in his chest where Laura had torn open his flesh, broken his ribs and opened his heart to hide the alchemical abomination now ticking away the heartbeats to doom.

I feel kind of iffy about cutting this because I don't feel like I have enough context to figure out what's essential information and what's not. BUT! I did say anything goes, so I'll take a crack at it.

Laura's lips on his tasted like the cigarette they'd just shared at the train station entrance. Her hands smelled like the disinfectant she'd used after she cracked open his chest and carved a hiding space into his heart for the alchemical abomination ticking away to doom with each heartbeat.

From 79 words to 49. The first few lines weren't hard, but I struggled with the last one due to lack of understanding of the situation.

Okay...I'm going to try something a bit different and pull lines from a random essay found via google search:

About twenty years ago people noticed computers and TV were on a collision course and started to speculate about what they'd produce when they converged. We now know the answer: computers. It's clear now that even by using the word "convergence" we were giving TV too much credit. This won't be convergence so much as replacement. People may still watch things they call "TV shows," but they'll watch them mostly on computers.
 

Maxx B

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"I didn't see the football coming. I just remember my world going off-kilter and the ringing in my ears. And the dull pain through my skull. Someone yelled at me, from far away I think."

35 words. Ooh, I like this game. Have a go at mine, it's from an older, unfinished draft of a short story:

[FONT=Courier New, monospace]The whistle of the departing train pierced the cold air. They kissed, Laura's hands on his cheeks. Her lips tasted like the cigarette they'd shakily shared at the station entrance. The smell of disinfectant from the operation still lingered on her hands. He shuddered from the bright memory of pain in his chest where Laura had torn open his flesh, broken his ribs and opened his heart to hide the alchemical abomination now ticking away the heartbeats to doom.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]The train whistled, kissing him, Laura touched his cold cheek. Her lips tasted like their nervously shared cigarette. The smell of disinfectant on her hand triggered the memory of pain from the operation. His body broken, she had hidden that ticking abomination inside his heart.[/FONT]



[FONT=&quot]From 79 to 45 words.
[/FONT]
 

PandaMan

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This thread looks like fun. If you don't mind, I'll take a stab at this one.

Jessie Stone hadn't set foot in a bar in over six years. It's not like there was a lot of opportunity in prison for obvious reasons, and he had been a little focused on other things since getting out. Tonight, he'd break that streak.

Of course, that streak hadn't been because of some religious conversion or newfound sobriety. He had never been a hard drinker in the first place, mostly since alcohol dulled the senses and slowed the reactions, and he still wasn't much in the way of being faithful. Hell, he didn't really even come to bars to pick up women. No, he had come to bars to meet contacts for his profession.

Prison has no alcohol, so after six years in the slammer, Jessie was raring to party. That, and to meet contacts for "the business".

---------------

Here's something hot off the grill I just wrote today. Get yer knifes out and slice and dice away.



"Grandpa, how long ago is once upon a time?"

"Well, that's difficult to say Sweetie. It could be a very long time ago, or far into the future, or even right now. It's only limited to your imagination."

"Oh, she said."

"Okay now, no more questions." He sat up in his chair and asked, "Are you ready for the story?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, yes. Start grandpa, please start."

He chuckled, tilted his head down and peered into Alana's eyes, eyes larger than life, eyes filled with imagination, and began the story.
 

Lauram6123

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This is fun! I think I got it from 95 to 77.

"Grandpa, when is once upon a time?"

"Well, that's difficult to say, Sweetie. It could be a very long time ago, or far into the future, or even right now. It's up to your imagination."

"Oh."

"No more questions." He sat up straight. "Are you ready for the story?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, yes. Start grandpa, please start."

He chuckled and peered into Alana's eyes, larger than life and filled with imagination. He began the story.
 

BethS

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I'll give it a shot.

"Grandpa, how long ago is once upon a time?"

"A very long time ago. Or far into the future, or even right now."

"Oh."

"No more questions, now." He sat up in his chair. "Ready for the story?"

"Yes."

"Sure?"

Alana's eyes were larger than life, filled with imagination. "Start, Grandpa, please start."

He chuckled, and began the story.

59 words.
 
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StephanieZie

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"Grandpa, how long ago is once upon a time?"

"Well, that's difficult to say Sweetie. It could be a very long time ago, or far into the future, or even right now. It's only limited to your imagination."

"Oh, she said."

"Okay now, no more questions." He sat up in his chair and asked, "Are you ready for the story?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you're ready?"

"Yes, yes. Start grandpa, please start."

He chuckled, tilted his head down and peered into Alana's eyes, eyes larger than life, eyes filled with imagination, and began the story.

She asked her grandpa when 'Once upon a time' was, and he told her it could be any time she could imagine. To cut off further questions, he offered her a bedtime story, which she happily excepted, eyes filled with imagination.

41 words!

Later in the evening, when the sun’s rays start to go horizontal and cut right through his windows, casting everything in orange, he decides to pull out some of the old boxes of photographs he’d found. He calls Lindsey, and this time she picks up. They chat for awhile, both drinking red wine. Hers is probably from an expensive bottle, his from the nozzle of a box he'd picked up at the corner store.
 

King God Kong Zilla

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Later in the evening, when the sun’s rays start to go horizontal and cut right through his windows, casting everything in orange, he decides to pull out some of the old boxes of photographs he’d found. He calls Lindsey, and this time she picks up. They chat for awhile, both drinking red wine. Hers is probably from an expensive bottle, his from the nozzle of a box he'd picked up at the corner store.

He takes out old photographs at sunset. After getting Lindsey on the phone, they chat while drinking glasses of wine. Hers is expensive, his is cheap.

The north wind picked up, making torches sputter. Bayrd sat with his back to a large rock near the center of the warcamp. Hungry men muttered as they warmed their hands around fire pits; the rations had spoiled long ago. Other soldiers nearby began laying out all of their metal—swords, armor clasps, mail—on the ground, like linen to be dried. Perhaps they hoped that when the sun rose, it would change the material back to normal.
 

phantasy

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This sounds like super fun! :D

The north wind picked up, making torches sputter. Bayrd sat with his back to a large rock near the center of the warcamp. Hungry men muttered as they warmed their hands around fire pits; the rations had spoiled long ago. Other soldiers nearby began laying out all of their metal—swords, armor clasps, mail—on the ground, like linen to be dried. Perhaps they hoped that when the sun rose, it would change the material back to normal.

Bayrd sat by the warcamp's center. A wind shook the torches as men warmed by the fire pits, the rations long spoiled. Soldiers laid out their weapons and armor, perhaps the rising sun would normalize them.

Down to 36 words! Whose the king?

My paragraph:
She grit her teeth, the question and answer session getting annoying. She hated the way he was speaking with her–like some haughty teacher showing the other students that this one dared to pretend to know before the lesson started. “Because...you’re gifted. With handsome looks and pretty words and a love of beautiful things. It’s wonderful for you, I’m sure, to be charismatic and to flirt and make empty promises and pretend to care while you plan. Dragons always have plans.”
 
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