From Editor’s Desk: Overuse of Words

"Is it just me, or does this feel... flat?"

My author friend was squinting at her manuscript like it had personally offended her.

"I mean, the plot's there, the characters are talking, but something feels off. Maybe I need to add more drama?"

I took one look at the page and smiled. “You don’t need more drama. You need fewer words.”

A dramatic gasp. “You mean cut my words?”

Yes. And I’ll bet you a double espresso. Some of those words are “just,” “very,” and “really,” and they are their whole tired crew.

Welcome to the world of overused words.

As an editor, I see them everywhere—in romance, thrillers, fantasy, even grocery lists. These words sneak into sentences like they pay rent, but trust me, they’re freeloaders. You think you’ve cleared them all out, and then boom, there’s “literally” again, clinging to your keyboard like a barnacle.

Here are the usual suspects, caught red-handed:

1. “Just”

She just wanted to say hello. He just needed a moment. You just used "just" four times in one paragraph. Cut it. Nine out of ten times, you don’t need it. The tenth time… you probably still don’t.

2. “That”

This little word loves to loiter.

She said that she would come.

Trim it: She said she would come. Boom. Cleaner, sharper, faster.

3. “Literally”

Unless your character literally burst into flames, leave this one in the dramatic drawer. It’s become the go-to for intensity, but it's lost its punch.

He was literally dying of laughter. Really? Call an ambulance.

4. “Very”

Very tired. Very happy. Very annoyed.

Here’s the thing: If you need “very” to boost your adjective, you probably need a better adjective. Instead of “very tired,” try “exhausted.” Instead of “very happy,” try “elated.”

5. “Really”

Like “very,” this one tries so hard to help, but ends up sounding like it's padding the sentence.

It was really important.

Try: It was crucial. It was essential. Now you sound like you know things.

6. “Suddenly”

Nothing makes a sudden moment feel slower than announcing it.

Suddenly, the lights went out.

Try: The lights went out. Period. The surprise works better when you don’t warn us.

Bonus Round: Adverbs in general

Yes, yes—Stephen King famously said, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” I say: Sprinkle them, don’t pour. He smiled warmly. She whispered quietly. He ran quickly. You get it. Trust your verbs to carry the weight.

So what now?

Don’t panic. We all lean on these words. I call them comfort clutter. They feel natural. They fill the silence. But trimming them is like cleaning out your closet; you didn’t need five nearly identical cardigans, and your novel doesn’t need five “justs” per page.

When you cut these overused words, you make room for stronger ones. You give your sentences breathing room. You let your voice shine through instead of hiding behind filler.

So go on. Be bold. Give those words a nap. (They’ve earned it, just not a permanent spot in your prose.)

And if you find yourself still unsure, send a draft to your editor. They sure got coffee, a red pen, and a deep love for deleting “really.”

Until next time,

Your Friendly Editor (and Word Trimmer Extraordinaire)