The Death of an Adverb

By Sandra McGarrity

I love adverbs!  I grievously mourn their passing.  If I had been warned well enough in advance I would have respectfully sent flowers.  As it is, I can lovingly hold only a memorial service in their honor from my computer.  When I sit down to write I mournfully pull on a black armband and remind myself that they no longer are-- even though I want sadly to remain in denial.

I love the writers from the 1940s.  How they happily floated from page to page on a cloud of lovely adverbs.  The stories flowed serenely, soared daringly, tore ahead maddeningly, and ended beautifully or crushingly.

Their characters moved softly, rode slowly, rose gently, rolled smoothly, and danced beautifully.  When in a hurry they walked rapidly, strode briskly, ran pantingly, or were whisked away immediately.  At other times they simply stood.

Dialogue tags were amazingly crafted works of art.  Someone spoke nervously, replied coolly, or admitted modestly.  An upset character retorted indignantly, mumbled angrily, or laughed shortly and mirthlessly.  She said flatly, distantly, lovingly, questioningly.  “Said” was not a punctuation mark.

Adverbs were absolutely a must for physical interaction.  She embarrassedly touched her sleeve.  He thumped her heartily on the shoulder.  His chin pressed caressingly against her hair.

How could the love scenes have been so romantically enacted without adverbs?  He kissed her swiftly, possessively.  He caught her to him fiercely.  Her eyes went suddenly soft.  Her heart beat wildly.

Where would the great mystery stories have been without adverbs?  The suspects moved uneasily, watched carefully, tiptoed quietly, crouched silently, glanced keenly, crumbled nervously, twisted restlessly, and worried unduly.  Once discovered, the culprit looked beseechingly, pushed violently, immediately drew back, raved hysterically, started violently, stopped abruptly, rose impatiently, or called urgently.  “Said” never stepped out alone in a mystery-- was he scared?  “Said” was always accompanied by abruptly, coldly, crossly, menacingly, cattishly, angrily, sharply, grimly, sulkily, or curiously.

Now the stories flow, soar, tear ahead, and end.  The characters move, ride, rise, roll, and dance.  They walk, stride, run, and stand.  You can entirely forget about having a character be whisked away-- not happening these days.

Possibly, the characters will speak, reply, admit, retort, mumble, or laugh.  More likely--  he said, she said, John said, or Mary said.  I would rather forget tags altogether.

In today’s world John and Mary only have time to touch, thump, or press.  Even romance has to be rushed as they kiss, caress, and hold-- no time for him to catch her to him.  If her eyes go soft he doesn’t have time to notice.  I’m sure their hearts still beat-- but wildly?  That can’t be healthy anyway.

Mysteries are full of action that can’t wait for adverbs.  The suspects move, watch, shake, crouch, tiptoe, glance, and worry unaided.  The culprit pushes, raves, starts, stops, and so on.  “Said” goes everywhere alone these days-- no fear-- everyone has a cell phone.

Now writing has to move with the pace of the new age.  Books are in fierce competition with TV and movies. Storylines have to be fast, short, and to-the-point.  So, the adverb has to go. Adverbs slow us down.  Adverbs are baggage that has to be checked at the airport.  Adverbs are a sit-down-dinner on Monday night.  Adverbs are a Sunday driver on Friday afternoon.  Adverbs are thirty items in the express line.  Adverbs are... Okay, so I get it.

I’m going through the manuscript for a novel that I wrote about two years ago.  I’m “killing the babies” as they call it.  The problem is that ninety-nine percent of the babies are adverbs.  I hope to actually see this thing published this time around so they have to go.  Ouch-- it hurts.  Why wasn’t I a writer in the forties?

So, my old friend adverb, I salute you and I bid you farewell-- for now.  You had a good run and did nothing to regret.  Our children’s children may look back and have a good laugh at your expense but some of us will remember your magic.  Society will change and you may return-- you never know.  After all, The Lord of the Rings was written in the 1940s.

Sandra McGarrity lives and writes in Chesapeake, Virginia.  Visit her webpage at www.heartwarmers4u.com/members?woody.

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