LOL, BRB, IDK, JK, IMHO, TMI...What in the world is she talking about?

READY FOR YOUR WRITING TIP OF THE WEEK? THE DELIGHTFUL DELIA IS HERE TO PASS ON A LITTLE BIT OF INSIGHT TO DOCTOR UP YOUR WRITING, OR  JFY PERHAPS TO KEEP YOU ON YOUR TOES. READ ON.

Too Much Information

Delia Latham

 

In this age of texting, chatting and e-mail, everything is abbreviated and acronymed. LOL. BRB. IDK. JK. IMHO.

Good or bad, today’s society is busy. Everyone is pushed for time. No one has ten minutes to deal with something that could be handled in two, and they want to know only what they need to know to do their jobs, take care of business, stay on the right side of the law, raise their children…or even something as simple as reading a book.

TMI. Too Much Information. That’s the one we’re going to think on for a bit, because after all, it’s the reason for the whole age of abbreviation, isn’t it?

Writers, by nature, love words. It’s difficult for us to chop our masterpieces down to a skeletal, bare bones presentation. After all, that means tossing many of our favorite flowery phrases and delectable descriptions into the circular file. Oh, the angst!

That said, most readers are at least semi-intelligent people. They can put two and two together without a lesson in addition.

What does all this have to do with TMI?

One of the things I notice most often when critiquing the work of inexperienced writers (and some who should know better…) is a tendency to overdo the details.

Consider this example:

Sally swung into the driveway and switched off the ignition. She gathered her purse and jacket, then opened the door, climbed out of the car, and walked up the path to the house. Inserting her key in the lock, she pushed open the door and entered the cool, shadowed hallway. A flip of the light switch revealed a stack of mail on the entry table, where her mother always left it. Excited, Sally tossed her jacket onto the coat rack and dropped her purse on the floor before shuffling through the pile of envelopes.

Her breath caught in her throat. There it was. After six long months of waiting, a letter from John.

TMI!

Seriously. Give your reader credit for knowing a few things without having to be told. They all switch off their engines when they reach a destination. None of them can get out of their cars without opening the car door—nor can they get inside the house without walking to the door, unlocking it (usually), pushing it open, and entering.

Almost all of the above example could and should be omitted with the assumption that a reader will figure it out on their own. Easily. Without plodding through each minute little detail.

Arriving home, Sally entered the cool, shadowed entryway and flipped on a light. As it had for the past six months, her gaze went immediately to the little oak table where Mama always left the mail. She dropped her purse on the floor and sorted through the stack, barely breathing.

A hoarse cry ripped from her throat when she saw it. Finally, after six long months of waiting—a letter from John.

The first example used 112 words. The second one made the same point using only 72 words—that’s 40 words trashed. And it is true in this case as in most that less is more.

Description is easy to overdo. But it’s certainly not the only area in which writers err on the side of wordiness.

Mary switched her purse to her left arm so she could shake his hand. “Hello, Jim. How are you?”

“Doing well, Mary, thank you.” His grip was strong, but gentle. “How are you?”

“Just fine, thank you, Jim.” She extracted her hand from his grip, though she longed to leave it there a little longer. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Jim nodded. “It’s great to see you too.”

            Come on, people. Really?

            Nothing—I repeat, nothing—is more annoying than having to read through line after line of this kind of drivel. Can’t we skip the “niceties” and assume our readers really don’t want to hear every word of typical greetings like these? And since I’m being nit-picky...we don’t call each other by name in every other sentence we use, so why should our characters? It’s annoying. It grates on the nerves. It makes editors scream. It tempts readers to close the book and look for something more interesting to read.

How to avoid the TMI syndrome?

·         Think about the message you want to convey, and do so as succinctly as possible.

·         Trust your readers to have the brain power to connect the dots.

·         Trim away the excess.

I’ve offered only two examples of places writers get carried away with details and force too much information on their readers. Obviously, many more could be examined, but…well, you’re an intelligent person. You get the message already, don’t you?

Any more would be TMI.

c 2011 - Delia Latham

 http://www.delialatham.net/ 

Ok, it's YOUR turn. What are some excesses YOU'VE come across when you read? Or how about some you've found yourself using too much when you write? We'd love to read what YOU have to say.