VERY

The word very as an intensifier makes your writing clunky. It’s a weak word without enough information to give your reader anything new.

“‘Very’ is the most useless word in the English language and can always come out.
More than useless, it is treacherous because it invariably weakens
what it is intended to strengthen.”

Those are the words of Florence King (American columnist, essayist, novelist). 

Mark Twain wasn't a fan either:

“Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very.’
Your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”

To help you replace very + weak adjectives with strong adjectives, check out LoseTheVery.com 

It will help you come up with alternatives, such as

freezing instead of very cold

delicious instead of very tasty

spotless instead of very clean

 Or, if you just want a quick reference, copy this list:

deafening instead of very noisy

brief instead of very short 

frequently instead of very often

ancient instead of very old

archaic instead of very old-fashioned

excruciating instead of very painful

ashen instead of very pale

destitute instead of very poor

wealthy instead of very rich

beautiful instead of very pretty

rapid instead of very quick

hushed instead of very quiet

sorrowful instead of very sad

petrified instead of very scared

chilling instead of very scary

grave instead of very serious

gleaming instead of very shiny

brief instead of very short

timid instead of very shy

basic instead of very simple

Caveat: Make sure the adjective you use to replace "very _______" is one that your audience is comfortable with.

 _____________

Clip: Robin Williams as John Keating in the Dead Poets Society

“So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys—to woo women—and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do. It also won’t do in your essays.” –  from the novelization of the movie by N.H. Kleinbaum

 

Clickbait

I’m a sucker for clickbait headlines.

Most likely influenced by the tabloid headlines I saw in the checkout lane when I was a kid grocery shopping with my mom.

Man’s 174-mph Sneeze Blows Wife’s Hair Off!

😮

Alien Bible Found! They Worship Oprah!

😮

Christmas Miracle! Severed Leg Hops to Hospital!

😮

Saddam & Osama Adopt Shaved Ape Baby!

😮

Hubby’s Bad Breath Kills His Wife!

9-month-old Baby Gets Black Belt in Karate!

😮

Found: Hair from God’s Beard!

😮

Snake with Human Head Found in Arkansas!

😮

Cannibal Chef Gets Own TV Cooking Show!

These are all actual headlines from the Weekly World News.

This also might explain why I very seldom use exclamation points in my copy.

12 from Mongo

 Scott "Mongo" Haines, a highly successful copywriter and protégé of Gary Halbert,
suggested 12 time-tested strategies for writing better copy, faster.

1. Set up a proper writing space.

2. Set up a writing routine

3. Write. A LOT.

4. Write for set time periods.

5. Write something easy, first.

6. Allow yourself to suck.

7. Write your first drafts fast & furious with no editing.

8. Don't be afraid to throw away writing if it's no good.

9. Use technology when it's actually useful

10. Get in shape.

11. Specialize.

12. Reward yourself.

You might have similar strategies. Or different ones. 

Have you taken the time to formalize them in writing? 

Referring to your list can serve as a quick self-evaluation to make sure you're taking the steps to perform at your highest level.

 

 

Vonnegut, Envelopes, & Farting Around

In a 2005 discussion with NPR's David Brancaccio about an essay in A Man Without a Country, the last book Kurt Vonnegut published before he died, Vonnegut recounts a story that begins with him telling his wife he's going out to buy an envelope:

"'Oh,' she says, 'Well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet?'

And so I pretend not to hear her. 

And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope. 

I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. 

And, I ask a woman, 'What kind of dog that is.' 

And, and I don't know. 

The moral of the story is, is we're here on Earth to fart around. 

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we're not supposed to dance at all anymore."

A decade earlier, in an interview in the November 1995 issue of Inc. Technology, Vonnegut told the same story when asked about  how he feels about living in an increasingly computerized world. 

After reading this, look back at the above. You can see that in 10 years, Vonnegut has refined the story and added a more pointed moral. 

"I work at home, and if I wanted to, I could have a computer right by my bed, and I'd never have to leave it. 

But I use a typewriter, and afterward I mark up the pages with a pencil.

Then I call up this woman named Carol out in Woodstock and say, 'Are you still doing typing?' Sure she is, and her husband is trying to track bluebirds out there and not having much luck, and so we chitchat back and forth, and I say, 'Okay, I'll send you the pages.' 

Then I go down the steps and my wife calls, 'Where are you going?' 

'Well,' I say, 'I'm going to buy an envelope.' 

And she says, 'You're not a poor man. Why don't you buy a thousand envelopes? They'll deliver them, and you can put them in the closet.' 

And I say, 'Hush.' 

So I go to this newsstand across the street where they sell magazines and lottery tickets and stationery.

 

I have to get in line because there are people buying candy and all that sort of thing, and I talk to them. The woman behind the counter has a jewel between her eyes, and when it's my turn, I ask her if there have been any big winners lately. 

I get my envelope and seal it up and go to the postal convenience center down the block at the corner of Forty-seventh Street and Second Avenue, where I'm secretly in love with the woman behind the counter. 

I keep absolutely poker-faced; I never let her know how I feel about her. 

One time I had my pocket picked in there and got to meet a cop and tell him about it. 

Anyway, I address the envelope to Carol in Woodstock. I stamp the envelope and mail it in a mailbox in front of the post office, and I go home. 

And I've had a hell of a good time. 

I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don't let anybody tell you any different."