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In Stephen King’s much-quoted advice about adverbs, from his craft book On Writing, he makes no bones about his feelings on adverbs.

This witticism has become firmly established in the canon of writing craft.

It’s also caused many a writer to lose hair and sleep—including yours truly. After all, we use adverbs when we speak all the time. But should we write the same as we speak?

(The answer is no, not always.)

Should we then take this bit of doctrine to heart and purge every adverb we find?

(The answer is a qualified maybe.)

Quick reminder: adverbs modify verbs. Sometimes sentences. Sometimes other things. They often, but not always, end in -ly. And not every word ending in -ly is an adverb. Clear? Good. ;-) If you’re not sure what an adverb is, see this Wikipedia entry on Adverbs.)

I can guarantee you even Mr. King has adverbs in his writing. (And, in context, this quote is more about the overuse of adverbs than avoiding them completely.) But when I first heard the “no adverb rule” (which it isn’t, by the way, it’s a preference and a best practice), I didn’t know the qualifiers, and I would sometimes make my sentences quite convoluted to try to convey my meaning without using adverbs of any sort.

Let me be clear—I believe there is a lot of wisdom in generally eschewing adverbs, and striving for an adverb-less story and failing will usually serve you better than not bothering.

However, while I won’t argue with any writer who doesn’t want to include a single adverb in their manuscript, and does so well, a well-placed adverb can sometimes be exactly what a story needs.

So when should you use adverbs, and when should you exorcise them?

Well. I’m so glad you asked.

Onward.

Descriptive Verbs Trump Adverbs

When it comes to adverbs, always cut them if a stronger, more descriptive verb would do the job better.

Consider these two examples:

He walked quickly across the parking lot.

OR

He hurried across the parking lot.

These both mean the same thing. But not only does the second version use less words, to my mind, it implies more urgency and gives me a better mental image. It’s a stronger sentence.

Anytime you can replace a [verb] + [adverb] combo with a single more descriptive verb, your writing will be tighter, faster-paced, and more evocative.

Watch for these especially weak verbs that are common culprits in this scenario:

• come

• go

• walk

• get

• said*

Now grab your thesaurus, and start chopping those weak verbs!

*Special note about using speech verbs other than said: when you are using this as a dialogue tag, said is almost always preferred over something flashier, for many reasons I’ll go into in a separate post. But if you want to talk about how someone was speaking, try to avoid said. E.g. “He shouted the instructions again” is better than “He loudly said the instructions again.”

Avoid Redundancy

Redundant adverbs tell you something the verb already implies. E.g.:

• whispered softly

• shouted loudly

• squeezed tightly

• crawled slowly

Simply using whispered, shouted, squeezed, and crawled would give the reader the exact same information without the extra word slowing them down.

This is also a clue about when you can get away with an adverb—when the adverb tells you something that would be unexpected based on the descriptive verb.

For example, we don’t expect people to whisper loudly, though they often do when they want to be overheard (or if they’re four and think they’re being sneaky). So, you could describe a loud whisper one of these ways:

• she stage-whispered

• she said in a loud whisper

• she whispered loudly

Personally, I’ve been so conditioned to be sensitive to adverbs that I’d still prefer to see the first two. However, the third is a totally legitimate option—just don’t overdo it. If you’re using several non-redundant adverbs per page, there is most likely a better way to say it which probably involves a more descriptive verb your thesaurus knows all about. Or a metaphor. (Don’t forget your other tools in the kit for creating evocative imagery.)

Avoid Filler

There are a few adverbs which are ubiquitous in speech, but which, when included in writing, almost always weaken it. These are:

• actually

• very

• really (in the sense of meaning “very”)

• just (in the adverbial sense which is often about emphasis—though the usages are many—not the adjectival one of being justifiable or fair)

In Dreyer’s English, career copyeditor Benjamin Dreyer adds rather, in fact, and quite to this list. He challenges anyone to go a week without writing any of these. About actually, he says “Feel free to go the rest of your life without another “actually.”**

I actually use actually so much in speech that it was actually my third son’s favourite word from eighteen months to two years. (Which he pronouned ack-shee. Cute, right?)

But we’re talking about writing, not speech. Most of the time, these words can be cut and the meaning of the sentence won’t have altered one iota. (Or sninch, to quote another of my son’s favourite words as a toddler, which he coined himself—feel free to use that one, if you wish. We can make it mainstream.)

Compare:

He was really very happy about the whole thing.

He was overjoyed about the whole thing.

Need I say more?

Sometimes, a filler adverb will be just the thing you need—often in dialogue to make it sound natural. But even there, use it sparingly, with fear and trembling. And be prepared for your line editor to flag it or take it out completely.***

**Dreyer, Benjamin. Dreyer's English (p. 4). Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. (This is the aforementioned affiliate link.)

***Though most editors will only do this if it’s being overused. One of the problems with just is that it is used to mean so many things that it quickly becomes repetitious and annoying. You can resolve some of the issues of overuse by substituting more specific adverbs, like only, solely, simply, etc. But again, don’t overdo it.

Not All Adverbs are the Devil

There are plenty of adverbs that have a place in our writing—words like hopefully, thankfully, frankly, etc. In addition to these, sometimes (like the non-redundant instances mentioned above), you need an adverb as the most succinct way to relay your meaning.

But if you use them, for the love of Shakespeare, please put them where they belong.

When speaking, many of us have the habit of twisting the parts of our sentences up so badly that if they were playing Twister, they’d collapse in a mass of mangled clauses.

However, in writing, get in the habit of putting your adverb as close to the verb it modifies as possible to avoid confusion.

Compare:

She runs by the lake and sometimes has coffee after habitually.

She habitually runs by the lake and sometimes has coffee after.

In the first one, the placement of the adverb habitually at the end contradicts the fact that she only “sometimes” has coffee. Placing it before the verb makes it clear which action is habitual.

Sadly, they wished they could have been there.

They sadly wished they could have been there.

They wished they could have been there, sadly.

Adverbs placed at the beginning of the sentence (or end, set off by a comma) modify the whole sentence. While sadly sometimes fills this role, these three sentences have completely different meanings based on the placement of the adverb.

In the first, it is sad that they are wishing they could have been there. In the second, they are wishing in a sad manner. The third is probably supposed to mean that it’s sad that they couldn’t be there, but what it actually means is the same as the first—that it’s sad that they were wishing they could have been there. To convey the intended meaning, rewording would be necessary:

Sadly, they couldn’t be there, though they wished they could.

Use an Adverb When an Adverb is Called For

One common way writers try to weed adverbs out of their writing is to cheat and use the adjective form instead.

Don’t do this.

If it’s modifying a verb (or an adjective, or a clause, or a… you know), it must be an adverb or you need to reword to something better. You can’t just throw the adjective form in there and hope no one notices. (Your editor will notice, trust me. Also, your readers.)

The only time you can do this is in dialogue if it is something your character would say, because people do this in speech all the time. But do so carefully.

E.g. I might write a child or someone less educated or from a part of the world that frequently commits this grammar error in colloquial speech as saying, “He’s real sick.”

But someone educated or a grammar Nazi would say “He’s really sick.”

Someone educated and precise who’s getting straight to the point would say, “He’s sick.” Because the “really” might not even be necessary. :-)

Do you struggle with using adverbs? Did you find this post helpful? Tell me your adverbial adventures or other writing struggles in the comments below. Your question may inspire a future post, so it can help others who are wondering the same thing. (I guarantee someone is.)

Happy writing!

Talena Winters is a freelance developmental editor, independent author, magazine writer, and tea and silver lining addict. She specializes in helping struggling self-published fiction and memoir authors unlock their inner writing wizards and unleash story magic. See her editing services here.