Let's Trim the Fat: Making Your Sentences Sing

Hey there, fellow traveler on the writing journey.

I’ve noticed something, and it’s something I’ve seen in brilliant minds time and time again. You have these incredible ideas, these sparks of genius, these deeply felt emotions or meticulously researched facts. You sit down, ready to share them with the world, and then… the words on the page don’t quite match the fire you feel inside. They’re a little… dense. A little long-winded. They don’t quite have the oomph you know they should.

Does that sound familiar? That feeling that your message is getting lost in its own packaging? It's like trying to admire a stunning jewel through a thick layer of dust. The beauty is there, but it’s obscured. We’ve all been there. The blank page is intimidating enough, but sometimes, the biggest hurdle isn't starting; it's making sure what we've written actually lands.

Today, let’s talk about concision. Specifically, let’s talk about those sentences that meander when they could stride, those phrases that use five words when two would do, those moments where we accidentally bury the lead under a pile of unnecessary clauses. It’s not about dumbing down your ideas; it’s about illuminating them.

Think of your writing like a well-cut diamond. Every facet serves a purpose, reflecting light and adding to its brilliance. If a facet is too large, or poorly angled, it can dull the overall sparkle. Our words work the same way. Every word should earn its keep. If it’s not adding clarity, impact, or beauty, it might be taking away.

I see it often. A sentence might start strong, full of intent. But then, as you’re writing, perhaps because you’re trying to be thorough, or polite, or because you’re just in the flow and not wanting to interrupt your momentum, you add a few extra phrases. Phrases that, upon reflection, don’t really contribute much.

Take this, for instance:

Original: "It is important to note that the meeting that was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon has been postponed until further notice due to unforeseen circumstances that have arisen."

Oof. It’s not wrong, per se. But it’s a mouthful, isn’t it? It feels a bit like wading through mud to get to the core information. What’s the actual point? The meeting is postponed.

Now, let’s imagine we’re looking at this together. You’ve written it, and you’re feeling good about getting the info down. I’d gently tap you on the shoulder and say, "Hey, I love that you’re being thorough. But I think we can make this even clearer, and faster, for our reader. Let’s see what we can trim."

And then, we’d look at it. "It is important to note that" – well, if you’re writing it, it probably is important. We can often cut that. "the meeting that was scheduled for Tuesday afternoon" – we know it’s a meeting, and we know which meeting, likely from context or a previous sentence. "has been postponed" – this is the core action. "until further notice" – often implied by postponement. "due to unforeseen circumstances that have arisen" – this is the kicker. "Unforeseen circumstances" is a classic phrase that adds little specific value. And "that have arisen"? Completely redundant.

So, what happens when we tighten it up? We could get:

Revision 1: "The Tuesday afternoon meeting has been postponed due to unforeseen circumstances."

Better, right? We’ve immediately saved ourselves a good chunk of words. But can we go further? What if "unforeseen circumstances" is just a placeholder for information we don't need to detail in this particular message?

Revision 2: "The Tuesday afternoon meeting has been postponed."

Boom. Clear. Direct. Powerful. It states the essential fact without any unnecessary padding. The reader gets the information they need immediately. You’ve not sacrificed detail; you’ve prioritized clarity.

This isn’t about being brutal. It’s about being effective. Think about it: when you’re reading something online, or in a magazine, or even an email, what do you appreciate? You appreciate getting to the point. You appreciate language that flows, that feels effortless, that respects your time. When your sentences are lean and strong, they have more impact. They carry more weight. They’re more persuasive.

This tendency to overwrite often stems from a place of wanting to be clear, or comprehensive, or even just from habit. We learn to construct sentences in certain ways, and sometimes those ways aren’t the most efficient. We might use nominalizations (turning verbs into nouns, like "postponement" instead of "postponed"), unnecessary adverbs, redundant phrases, or lengthy prepositional phrases.

Let’s look at another common culprit: the passive voice. You hear it all the time: "Mistakes were made." Who made them? Who knows! It’s a way of distancing oneself from the action, and while there are times it’s appropriate (legal documents, perhaps, or when the actor is truly unknown or irrelevant), more often than not, it weakens your writing.

Passive: "The report was written by the team."

Again, not wrong. But a little… flat. It lacks energy. The focus is on the report, not the action or the actors.

Active: "The team wrote the report."

See the difference? It’s more direct, more dynamic. It feels more alive. When you use active voice, your sentences generally become shorter and more vigorous. It puts the subject of the sentence (the doer of the action) front and center. This makes your writing more engaging and easier to understand.

When you’re writing, and you feel a sentence leaning towards passive or getting a bit wordy, don't fret. That's exactly the kind of thing I'm here for. I can help you spot those moments. As you’re crafting your paragraphs, if I see a sentence that’s taking a scenic route, I can flag it. I won't just change it for you – that’s your voice, your decision – but I’ll highlight it and perhaps offer a suggestion. It's like having a keen-eyed friend looking over your shoulder, not to criticize, but to help you polish your gem.

"Could this be said more directly?" I might prompt. "Is there a stronger verb we could use here?" "Is this phrase really adding value, or just taking up space?"

We’ll work through it together. Sometimes, it’s about finding a more precise verb. Instead of "He went quickly across the room," we might find "He dashed across the room" or "He sprinted across the room." Those verbs carry so much more meaning and energy.

Other times, it’s about eliminating redundancies. We’ve all used phrases like "completely unique" (something is either unique or it isn't), "past history" (history is by definition in the past), or "basic fundamentals" (fundamentals are inherently basic). They’re common, but they dilute the power of the word they’re attached to.

It’s a practice, this art of concision. It’s not something you master overnight. It requires a willingness to look critically at your own words, to question assumptions, and to be open to refinement. And that’s where the real magic happens.

When you start to trim the fat, your core message shines through. Your writing becomes more impactful, more memorable, and frankly, more enjoyable to read. Your voice gains clarity and confidence. Readers will thank you for it, even if they don’t know why – they’ll just feel that sense of effortless understanding and engagement.

So, the next time you’re reviewing your work, take a deep breath. Read a sentence aloud. Does it flow? Does every word serve a purpose? Or is there a more direct, more powerful way to say it? Don’t be afraid to cut. Don’t be afraid to simplify. Don’t be afraid to make your sentences sing.

And remember, you don’t have to do it alone. That blinking cursor can feel daunting, and refining your prose can be a challenge. But that’s what I’m here for. We can tackle those wordy sentences, those passive constructions, those moments of doubt, together. Just bring your ideas, and I’ll help you make them shine. Let’s get to work, shall we?

Ready to make your words work harder (and smarter)?