One of the first things we learn about writing is the old saying, “Less is More.” In keeping with this simple truth, the opposite is true: “More is Less.” More words may make a book longer, and you may think you are helping the reader understand, but in truth, verbosity in writing can bore and often adds little to the core of the book.
While “Less is More” is closely related to “Over-Telling,” there are differences. Curing Over-Telling is a matter of tightening our writing. Less is More is calculated brevity. It is beneficial in scenes of high emotion. In the blog “Better Dialog,” I discussed getting rid of tags in writing. The same lines from Members of the Cast also show Less is More calculated brevity. In blue, we have the text as printed in the book, beginning with the fourth paragraph of Chapter 1:
“Your father’s grant came in a year early.” Mother used her, “isn’t this the best news” voice.
Margo couldn’t muster an answer right away, finally offering a quiet, “Oh.”
With an exasperated sigh, her mother wrestled with a mixer beater held in a headlock by the tangled cord.
“When?”
Mother stabbed at the underside of the mixer, the chrome shaft locking into place. “We’ll need to leave soon—two weeks?”
“How long?”
“Well—until June.” Potatoes plopped into the colander, earthy steam floating to the ceiling.
Discussion
In the first two paragraphs, I set the tone. Margo’s parents are suddenly leaving, and I give the reader a hint of the impact with:
“Your father’s grant came in a year early.” Mother used her, “isn’t this the best news” voice.
This is clearly not the best news, and the shock of the moment gives Margo pause:
Margo couldn’t muster an answer right away, finally offering a quiet, “Oh.”
In this tense scene, the few words “Margo couldn’t muster an answer right away, finally offering a quiet…” is enough “Margo emotional news” for the time being. She can hardly speak.
Once the tone is set, I wanted two things to happen, other than the tiny bit of information offered in the brief dialog exchange.
First, it is important to show that the mother is tense. This causes a bout with resistentialism. In the opening pages, inanimate objects are “resisting” her every effort.
Second, Margo speaks four words in the next 340 words. Her four spoken words are meant to show her dismay. When shocked, many of us don’t have ready words, clever replies, or creative counters to help our plight. Margo says, “When?”
I resisted having her say, “When would you leave, Mother?” Nothing would be added by the words “would you leave, Mother?” She is talking to her mother. The conversation is about her parents leaving (again). The Less—“When?”—is More. I leave it up to the reader to decide what Margo is feeling.
Mother stabbed at the underside of the mixer, the chrome shaft locking into place. “We’ll need to leave soon—two weeks?”
Here, Mother’s action further shows her frustration. Then she tries to justify the answer as if it isn’t her fault they will leave soon. And then she tacks on the answer Margo dreads to hear, “two weeks?” Notice Mother raises her voice in a question as if she is asking if that is OK? Margo and the reader already know this is not the case. Margo has walked into the apartment after all the plans have been made. That question mark is Mother’s effort to placate.
At this point, I trust the reader notices that Margo is not jumping up and down yelling, “Yippie.” Instead comes:
“How long?”
Less is More. There is no need for, “How long would you be gone this time?” The extra verbiage tells the reader nothing they don’t already know. The two-word question shows that Margo doesn’t have much to say. Some readers may feel her replies are curt, which is fine. I believe Margo has not changed her attitude from the initial, “Oh,” which she hardly managed to say. In my mind, Margo is still a beaten-down kid, barely holding it together—but she needs the facts. People are like that—when there is bad news, we often want to hear all of it.
More is Less could’ve read like this (bold italics show More is Less):
“Your father’s grant came in a year early.” Mother used her, “isn’t this the best news” voice.
Margo couldn’t muster an answer right away, finally offering a quiet, “Oh.”
With an exasperated sigh, her mother wrestled with a mixer beater held in a headlock by the tangled cord.
“When would you leave, Mother?”
Mother stabbed at the underside of the mixer, the chrome shaft locking into place. “We’ll need to leave soon—two weeks?”
“How long would you be gone this time?”
“Well—until June.” Potatoes plopped into the colander, earthy steam floating to the ceiling.
For me, the added words in Margo’s last two lines clog up the emotion. (And, we don’t need any “mumbled, whined, queried, or wondered” tags.) “When?” hits—jars us if we are sensitive to what is happening.
“How long?” shows more without any additional words. “How long?” shows mutual familiarity with the subject. She and her mother are on the same page. This isn’t the first time this has happened.
When thinking about Less is More, I have been accused of being too sparse. What I think of as “tight writing” is too minimal for some of my beta readers. So, yes, sometimes we have to “tell” a bit more. Hopefully, we “show” more because the words I added to the dialog don’t ring true to me. 17-year-old girls don’t always use complete sentences. (Neither do adults.)
Readers are smarter than we think. When considering a genre and expected reader age, give the reader some credit. They will catch on without the writer “talking down” to them. We never want the reader to begin skimming over the fluff.
When I start skimming, I am looking for the good part. More is Less can cause skimming over the bad part. I don’t know about you, but after a couple of pages of skimming, I am closing the book—for the last time. (Notice the “Mother” style zinger at the end?)
With Amazon’s “Look Inside,” forcing me to skim means no sale.
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