Dis-Adjectivisation

On the grounds that I still hamper my own ability through a reliance upon adjectives (and the occasional adverb), I'm revisiting that first chapter of Second Fist.

It's interesting to pull them all out and see the difference it makes to the flow of the writing:

Adjectised

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

Okay, so there are four adjectives there, though admittedly the second is allowed since we'd otherwise not know what kind of precinct. So, what does it read like without the other three?

Sans Adjectives

We ran the next red, slid across the tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. Behind us the central precinct sprawled like a wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

I can then address further ideas with the new text, namely that third sentence, which now hangs limply at the middle, around the word wound:

Behind us the central precinct sprawled. A wound; picked clean of community and hospitality.

That serves to break up the structure a bit more, puts wound into the mouth of the narrator - more like a direct thought than just a description, and helps increase the pace.

It's a far shine from my original opening, which was desperately clunky:

We ran the next red, slid across the sweaty tarmac and tore away into the night. The road was ours and though the town’s breath was heavy on our necks we didn’t look back. We left behind the labyrinth of roundabouts and diversion signs that surrounded the central precinct and disorientated visitors, who more often than not found themselves lost or returning from where they’d come. Inside that perimeter the town’s hub sprawled like a ruptured wound; picked clean of community and hospitality. And at its concrete heart where the darkness swelled and a poison had taken root, the land had begun to die.

The Last Review

So, I've had a day or two away from my "perfect" short... and it's time to look at it one last time - it's the adverb/adjective, active/passive pass.

First off, as far as adverbs are concerned, I've got away scot free - I'm remembering somethings, I guess. On the adjective front, I've notched up a score of 50; that's 50 in 1,500. Is that bad? Analysing the winning story of Winter Kills I've found 53, and looking at the Language Log, I find that 50 or 53 is just over 3% of the whole text, well within the suggested 6% limit - if we can indeed believe in a strict taxonomy.

Well, needless to say I'm not going to get bent out of shape by 3% of adjectives.

Hopefully, if my eyes don't decieve me, I only found two occasions of passivity. I did discover this great reminder site on Active and Passive voices, and their uses, which didn't have much use in the context of the short, but nevertheless... I think what's important - now - to think about with active and passive voice is that with every break in the sentence, every new clause must be considered on its own, and actively/passively reorganised dependent upon who is then the new subject.