Editor's Notes #34: What's So Bad about Adverbs?

"I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops." (Stephen King, On Writing)

Schoolhouse Rock not only made my Saturday mornings both fun and educational as a kid, but its catchy songs have stood the test of time. Most adults I know—those who grew up in the US during the 70s and 80s, anyway, as I was reminded by S.K. Anthony, who grew up in Venezuela—can still sing the classics like "Conjunction Junction" and "I'm Just a Bill" with ease. Thanks to a complete DVD set when my children were young (and now the Internet availability of pretty much everything), the younger generation can learn grammar, science, and more without pain.

But I have to say, songs like, "Lolly, Lolly, Lolly Get Your Adverbs Here" have made it sound like adverbs are all fun and games. Maybe this is why some writers tend to use adverbs like there's no tomorrow . . . until their editors get out the Red Pen of Doom and have at it—also like there's no tomorrow.

It's not that we hate all adverbs. It's just that we recognize them as a sort of cop-out when a writer is too inexperienced or lazy—or ignorant of a better way—to explain something. Stephen King has this to say about them: "The adverb is not your friend. Adverbs . . . seem to have been created with the timid writer in mind." Even Mark Twain was known to say, "They don't excite me," when referring to adverbs, contending that they are best when far apart.

In short, the fewer, the better when it comes to these babies.

And they're not to be feared, either. When people rely on adverbs as a bailout, that's where the trouble comes in. Adverbs are not all bad. They can be useful in so many ways. But the "manner" adverbs—those which typically end in -ly and somehow end up attached to dialogue tags—are a crutch in many cases. If a writer never branches out from the easy adverb, the writing will never grow into something better.

Consider obvious examples such as:

He left the room angrily.                                                                                                   She came to him trustingly.

Can you picture anything there? Is it exciting or descriptive? How about this instead:

He threw his phone against the wall and shouldered his brother out of the way as he raced from the room, muttering words that should have made us all blush.

She put her sippy cup on the table with all the care a toddler could muster, and climbed up beside him on the couch, plopping herself onto his lap as if the seat had been marked "reserved" for her.

There's a little more color to the second example, and hopefully a better picture of what's happening.

There seem to be as many proponents on the "death to adverbs" side of the picket line as there are "we love our adverbs" sign-holders on the other. As with anything, a little common sense goes a long way. One person's hard & fast rule is another person's guideline. One writer may effectively use adverbs and another may feel crippled by them. My personal opinion? As with anything, too much of a good thing ceases to be a good thing.

Perhaps there's an Adverb Awareness Month I haven't heard of, or a support group for those who can't seem to let go. In the meantime, friends (and critique partners) don't let friends . . .