In his blog, David Hewson talks here about how changing one word when rewriting can make a huge difference to the atmosphere and ‘punch’ of a scene. The word in question is ‘piss’ and two examples are given – one with it, and the rewrite without it. The rewrite is, to my mind, definitely stronger.
It’s just one little word, but whether it’s in the sentence or not makes a huge difference to the reading experience. Less is definitely more in this case.
With the word, the focus of attention falls directly on the word itself and detracts from everything else that is equally important in building up the whole scene. The rotten fruit, the rubbish, the abandoned plastic – they matter too, but somehow they’re overshadowed and sidelined when the word ‘piss’ is included at the end.
During rewriting and redrafting the offending word is removed. Without the word, the scene is allowed to hang in the reader’s mind as a whole. We most certainly understand what the overriding stench is, but it’s allowed to permeate the other dereliction, not obliterate it.
Words matter. Even little ones.
Skilful editing and rewriting comes from knowing what to take out and what to leave in and is arguably the hardest thing in the writing process.
I find the best way of discovering what needs to come out is to get some distance between my muse and my writing. When a piece has been allowed to ‘rest’ for a while, your mind is more willing to accept that not every word is perfectly placed. You’re more able to read your words as a reader rather than a writer, and making that distinction is important because readers primarily want involvement in the story, immersion in the atmosphere, empathy with the characters, and anticipation along with recognition of peril.
All this happens very quickly when reading. It also happens on a subconscious level. The above elements are either there or they’re not, and if any of them are missing the story will fail one level or another. Depending on the strength of the others, you’ll either lose the reader completely or they’ll carry on reading with reservations. But some of the trust in the unspoken reader/writer contract will be lost.
Trust goes full circle back to the rewriting process. You have to learn to trust your own writerly instincts. When you’re reading back through a piece, if something jars with you, it’ll jar with readers too. Don’t be tempted to gloss over it because of the hard work involved with figuring out what’s wrong and what it needs to make it right. Don’t be tempted to think that just because it’s only one word, or sentence, or paragraph or page it won’t matter.
It will, and does, matter. Every word matters, individually and collectively.


