Crutches, Tics, and Placeholders
Do you know your writing crutches? Your placeholders? Everyone has some. These are the “defaults” that come automatically to you when you’re on a roll, writing away in a flow state, just getting the words on the page. They can be pet adjectives, or gestures or facial expressions that your characters use over and over, or dialogue patterns that you always use.
It’s fine. The purpose of first drafts is to get your story into a form that’s observable, rather than just drifting around in your imagination. But when you set out to refine your story, that’s when these habits need to get a good sharp look. Then you ask yourself (or your editor will put it to you) “Are these devices enhancing the experience of the story, or will their presence be distracting for the reader?”
Let’s take a look.
Over-used words. Often, these are words the author uses to help describe the mood. The story or situation has a certain atmosphere that the author wants to make sure comes through to the reader. Now, the effective conveyance of mood really can immerse a reader in the story, but keep in mind, the reader is experiencing the story faster than you wrote it. Hopefully they’re devouring it, so engrossed that all outside influences are forgotten (wouldn’t that be great?). But here’s the thing: the human brain is excellent at both noticing patterns, and making them up, even when there’s no deliberate pattern there.
It’s like if you’re out on a walk and see two blue cars drive by. A couple minutes later, you see another blue car. Subconsciously, your brain says “Hey, cool. Three blue cars in a short time.” Suddenly, even though it was all coincidental, your eyes are noting every blue car on the road, in parking lots, and in driveways at houses. Are there more blue cars than there ever were? No, but because the first three were close together, your brain decided to take an inventory, without asking you.
The Baader-Meinhof phenomenon or frequency illusion (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frequency_illusion), explains how if a new word or concept is introduced to you, you start noticing it, leading to the impression that it’s everywhere, even though it may not, in reality, occur that frequently.
Similarly, if you use a descriptor word several times in a short span, the reader’s brain will take note and start subconsciously remarking on each subsequent use of it. “Ooh look! There it is again!” It may not be a big enough deal to throw them out of the story, but if the word keeps coming back, it will needle them, like a faucet dripping in the next room. Each drip is a quiet sound, but over time, it seems to get louder because your ears keep listening for it, anticipating when it’s going to come next.
How often is too often? There’s no hard and fast rule, but I would recommend taking a hard look at any devices that occur three times within a page’s length. If you see such an item, do a quick “find” operation on it (if you’re in Word, just copy the suspect word into the search bar at the top or in the navigation panel). You’ll get a count of how many times it occurs in your document. If it’s a one-time occurrence, then no problem. But if it comes up many, many times, you’ll want to review some alternatives.
Overused Situations: If you have two characters chatting, what are they doing while they talk? If the first thing that comes to mind is “they’re drinking coffee” (or tea, or wine), then you’re not alone. I get it: it’s easy. Characters need to talk. Issues need to be sorted, plans need to be made. Hydration is important, and this gives a natural way for people to have something to do with their hands while they talk. The sips make for pauses. Particularly surprising revelations could lead to spitting out or coughing and spluttering, or spilling, which is dramatic and fun. But everyone is doing it. It’s become a default activity for contemporary writers. Please, do your poor editor a favor, and consider having the discussion take place other than over drinks!
What if they talk while biking, or doing a crossword puzzle together, or planting a garden, or sword fighting, or bathing the dog, or browsing shelves at a shop, or … something. What does your character do for a living? What do they do for fun? It can be most any activity or chore, so long as they can converse with another person while doing it. And the more unusual it is, the more readers will be fascinated.
Watch those hedging adjectives in narration: there are plenty of articles advising against the overuse of adverbs (like instead of “ran quickly,” write “sprinted,” or instead of “said softly,” write “whispered” for clarity and concision). Something I’ve seen a lot lately is using hedging adjectives. Like “subtle power” or “subtle tension” or “subtle elegance” (it is entirely possible for an attempt at subtlety to become louder by virtue of repetition). These expressions fall under the “show, don’t tell” issue of exposition, or “feeding the reader,” where the author hasn’t trusted the reader to connect the dots. Remember, just because you’ve said the atmosphere has a subtle type of tension, doesn’t mean you’re not pointing it out. It’s like someone sitting because you at the movies, jabbing you with their elbow and saying “Here! Look at the tension.”
Consider, as an exercise, how else could you indicate to the reader that a character gives “subtly elegant” vibes, without writing those words? Maybe they’re always poised. Maybe you describe the restrained, tailored clothes, or the gracious manner. Let the reader then put those clues together to draw their own conclusion. The same applies to environments or settings.
If a character has real power, they don’t need to flaunt it, and arguably, the narrator doesn’t need to point out their “subtle power.” Maybe they speak quietly, naturally expecting others to quiet down to hear them. Maybe they rely on the smallest of gestures to signal approval or dismissal. Maybe nothing happens until they enter the room. Maybe people calm down when they arrive, knowing that whatever is going on, it will get taken care of now. Their influence is undeniable, but the word “power” never needs to be stated explicitly.
Pet gestures: Shrugged, raised an eyebrow, or furrowed their brow are all natural gestures. But when someone raises an eyebrow three times in one conversation, others may begin to wonder if they’ve got a tic. If they’ve already gripped the steering wheel until their knuckles whiten, it’s not really possible to grip it tighter in the next paragraph. How many times can one person rake a hand through their hair, before readers start thinking it’s going to fall out?
Characters can absolutely have “signature moves,” but just watch that they don’t occur frequently enough that it distracts from the flow of the story.
Excessive use of certain punctuation.: There’s been a lot of chatter about whether em-dashes are a sign of generative AI being used in writing. I’m not going to get into all the reasons why this is a simplistic statement, but suffice to say, if you need permission to use em-dashes, go ahead: use them if it’s appropriate. Punctuation’s been around a lot longer than AI has, and will remain long after the debates.
It is possible, however, to overuse certain types of punctuation. I ran into a manuscript one time that contained 385 ellipses ( … ) in the space of about 400 pages. Not that they were on every page, but any time there was dialogue, they proliferated. Here’s the thing: they weren’t inappropriate to their placement. There was a lot of hesitation and fear on the characters’ parts, so a certain amount of trailing off is natural. But the sheer volume of ellipses was distracting. And this was a good writer. She knew her craft well, but before her attention was drawn to this habit, she didn’t see it. So we worked on it. I was able to cut down about half of them in the edit, replacing with full stops (periods), or action beats, or whatever alternative worked best in the situation. And I highlighted more for the author’s consideration in her revisions. In the published version, there are far fewer instances, and they disappear naturally into the flow of the story.
Exclamation marks are another punctuation mark that are easily overused. I tell authors that exclamation marks are like the hot peppers of punctuation—a few, thoughtfully scattered throughout, can add excitement and flavor to your writing. Add too many, and you’ll blow the reader’s head off.
All this to say, if you find yourself writing a story don’t worry about crutches too much, during the first draft at least. That’s what revisions are for. But pay attention when you’re re-reading your work. If certain words start twigging your eye (or ears, if you’re having it read to you), do a quick search of that word. Maybe you’re using it too frequently. Then you can go through and see where you can cut back on it, or replace it with something else. (Hopefully not always the same replacement, or you’ll just have a new crutch.) Don’t feel ashamed of them. Noticing your particular writing crutches and habits is the first step to working them out, and improving your skills as a writer.
Photo by Lance Grandahl, through Unsplash.
