10 Words to Cut for Stronger, Sharper Prose

Hi Reader,

Happy Spring! I don’t know about you, but as soon as the season changes, I feel like a new person! Gone are the winter blues, and inspiration bursts up like new flowers everywhere I turn. I hope it’s the case for you.

I am super eager to move on to a different project than the one I’ve been revising since November. Yup, it’s been taking me five months, folks, to re-envision this draft after getting some super helpful feedback.

By the end of the month—so, beginning of next week, eek!—I’m hoping to send this back into the query trenches.

The strategy, the pitch, the query letter…all of it is changed a bit too, but more on that in my next newsletter. For this week, I want to talk to you about polishing, and my favorite line-level tricks that I’ve been using and loving to elevate my prose.

Let me preface all of this by saying this: I am not a copy editor. I’m not a grammar addict, nor a super language expert. But I did do things differently this time as I entered the polishing stage of revision.

In the past, when I’ve gotten to the polishing stage of writing, I tried some old tricks I still stand by: reading aloud, reading on an e-reader or printed draft vs the computer, reading in a different location, etc. I felt like I would notice the missteps in my language or the echoes or overused words or expressions.

But I’ll tell you what…that only improved my writing by a fraction of a percentage point. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: It is SO hard to see your own writing clearly.

In addition to my usual tricks, this time I also tried a few others. Here’s what made the biggest difference: I cut weightless words, and focused on verbs.

Weightless Words

Weightless words are the ones that slip into your sentences almost invisibly—but once you start cutting them, your prose sharpens immediately. They dilute voice, soften impact, and often tell instead of showing. Sometimes they are just filler, or pointless words. That’s why I think of them as “weightless.” They have no heft, no real power in your prose.

Here are the biggest offenders I targeted:

1. “Just”

Why it weakens: Just minimizes the moment. It shrinks intention, urgency, and emotional weight. Removing just restores emotional weight. The desire is no longer minimized or apologetic—it’s direct and vulnerable.

Before:
I just wanted to see you one last time.

After:
I wanted to see you one last time.

2. “Feel / feels / feeling”

Why it weakens: These are filter words. They remind us we’re inside a character’s head instead of letting us be there. When you replace them with physical sensation, action, or interiority, the reader experiences the emotion directly. I’m embarrassed to admit I cut over 200 instances of this in my own draft.

Before: I feel my lips tighten into a flat line as I shake his hand.

After: My lips tighten into a flat line as I shake his hand.

3. “Think / believe”

These are sneakier filters—they create distance between the reader and the character’s certainty.

Before:
She thought he was lying.

After:
He was lying.

Or, if you need ambiguity:
His story didn’t add up.

4. “Really” (and its cousins: very, so, quite)

These are intensifiers that rarely intensify anything. Stronger word choice does the job better.

Before:
She was really tired.

After:
She was exhausted.

Or better yet, show it:
Her vision blurred as she missed the last step.

5. Adverbs (especially “-ly” words)

Not all adverbs are bad—but many prop up weak verbs.

Before:
He walked quickly across the room.

After:
He hurried across the room.

Even stronger:
He crossed the room in three long strides.

6. “That” (when unnecessary)

We often don’t need it—and cutting it tightens the sentence instantly.

Before:
She knew that he would come back.

After:
She knew he would come back.

7. “Started to / began to”

These dilute action and slow pacing.

Before:
She started to run toward the door.

After:
She ran toward the door.

8. “I saw / I noticed / I realized”

Why it weakens: More filter words that keep readers at arm’s length. These create narrative distance between the character and the reader, reminding them that they are watching a character, versus living through the character.

Before:
I noticed the room had gone quiet.

After:
The room had gone quiet.

9. “Kind of / sort of / a little”

These hedge the sentence—often unnecessarily.

Before:
He was kind of angry.

After:
He was angry.

Or better:
His jaw tightened.

10. “Is/are/was/were” and “was verb-ing”

These constructions create distance and flatten imagery. Instead, rewrite your sentences with verbs that pack a punch. “To be” is weak, invisible, and boring.

Before:
There was a man standing in the doorway.

After:
A man stood in the doorway.

When you strip away weightless words, two things happen:

Clarity increases. The reader doesn’t have to wade through filler to find meaning.

Immediacy deepens. You remove the narrative “buffer” between the reader and the moment. In other words: your prose stops describing the story—and starts delivering it.

However, please note that this isn’t about deleting every single instance of these words. Sometimes you need a hedge or a softer beat. Sometimes voice, or dialogue needs those weightless words because we use them in life, or they might feel true to your character.

But when you use these words unconsciously, they accumulate—and that’s where your prose loses power.

My advice: use the search/find tool in your word processor and analyze each example it finds. Tedious, yes, but worth it? Also yes.

Verbs

In grad school, one of my professors did a lesson on verbs, which I never forgot. She gave us an exercise in which we brought the first two printed pages of our manuscripts and circled all “to be” verbs. Boy were there a lot more than I expected. Then she asked us to rewrite the sentences. My first instinct was to just replace “was” with words like “remained” but that didn’t quite do it. It wasn’t a matter of deletion and insertion; it was about rewriting it. So a sentence like “she was beautiful” could become something like “she glowed with the radiance of ten suns” (let’s call that a fantasy example.)

Vivid verbs create stronger images, more impact.

So see what you can do when you circle your weak verbs, starting with “to be.”

Polishing, for me, wasn’t about making my writing prettier. It was about making it truer, sharper, and harder to look away from.

And that shift? That’s what finally made this draft feel ready to leave my hands.

Next week, I’ll take you behind the scenes of my updated query strategy—and what I changed (and why) before heading back into the trenches.

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Offerings

Thanks so much for being here with me. I value you and I sincerely hope that I provide value for your writing journey. If you feel inclined, drop me a line and let me know what you’re working on!

Happy Writing,

Karyn

P.S. Loving these emails? Buy me a cup of tea to say thanks. Or you can book a free 30-min story strategy chat here if you're interested in getting specific help with your book.

Granite Bay, CA
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