In what is becoming a pro-journalism trip down memory lane, I give you another newspaper post. This one’s from June 11, 2012.
Trust me, you’ll like it!
***
During my tenure as a newspaper reporter, I worked under three editors.
My third and last editor, Jerry, was an all-around great guy.
I was so devoted to my second editor, an old-timer named Jack, that I would’ve followed him almost to the gates of hell. (I would’ve driven him maybe seven eighths of the way there. That’s pretty much where my devotion to any boss ends, I think.) My point is Jack was the best boss I ever had.
My very first editor, on the other hand, was someone I wanted to shove into oncoming traffic.
Let’s say his name was Dan. He had many failings, but the worst was his tone of voice. That voice, accompanied by a cocked eyebrow, made me feel as dumb as a bag of hammers. To be fair, I was dumb. I was a journalism greenhorn. But I already knew this without all of Dan’s nasty little reminders. What I needed from my editor was advice and guidance. That was not Dan’s strong suit.
What really got my dander up, however, was the way Dan hacked away at my prose. One piece I wrote, about a nasty and tempestuous council meeting, was edited to make the proceedings look like an English garden party.
I stormed up to Dan’s desk, holding the article aloft with my thumb and index finger as if handling a used diaper. “What did you do to this?”
“I got rid of all your editorializing,” he said in that tone of his. “And you’re welcome.”
Oh, I soooo wanted to knock those cocked eyebrows off Dan’s smug little face.
“Editorializing?! Where? Where was I editorializing?”
“The adverbs,” he replied. His tone suggested that I was more than welcome to add “stupid” to the end of his remark.
Then he waved me away. Dan had more important things to do now.
I returned to my desk and seethed. What a jerk! I wasn’t editorializing, I was reporting. I am a reporter, right? I was doing my job. That councilman said what he said and he said it “angrily!” I was there. I saw it. The guy was speaking through gritted teeth. His face was beet red. His hands were balled into little fists. That’s “angrily!” What else could it be?
Then I had my epiphany.
Why, I wondered, didn’t I mention the gritted teeth and the red face and the balled fists in my story? That would’ve communicated angry much better than my “angrily.”
And those little physical details really do paint a nice picture, don’t they? They sort of put you there in the room. You can almost see Mr. Councilman frothing at the mouth. My ambiguous, solitary “angrily” didn’t do that at all.
That “angrily” now felt like a pretty lazy way to get my point across.
I arrived at another sudden realization, and it was a painful one: Dan was right. Adverbs are editorializing. When I wrote “angrily” I was asking the reader to trust my own interpretation of events without providing any evidence to back it up. I wrote that the guy was angry, but I never proved it.
Ugh. Dan, in his jerky, nasty way, mentored me.
My articles became a lot punchier after that. Dan edited less and I began to enjoy my job more. A few short weeks after beginning my self-imposed adverb purge, Dan accepted another job at another newspaper and I never saw him again.
I never did tell Dan how influential he was; I don’t think I could ever give him the satisfaction. If I ever saw him again, I think my old urge to smack him upside the head would overcome me.
And, just to upset Dan further, I would make sure to smack him happily.
Hey, Look! A Writer Fellow! 
Isn’t it frustrating when we actually benefit from The Boss? Nice side lesson about adverbtizing instead of prosatizing.
It’s only frustrating when one benefits from a boss like Dan.
“Speaking of adverbs, I was thinking your post could benefit from a Tom Swiftie contest,” Cricket added winningly.
Oh, that is a great idea! Or, perhaps, I could award The Purple Prose Prize.
And the winning entry could be a lavender chicken—I just read a post about such a critter existing.
What, no link to said post?
I knew you would ask that. I can’t remember where I found it. Search for lavender chickens?
I think you do a lot of things happily, with gusto and FLAIR!!!
I also do such things with panache.
THAT’S the word I was looking for !! PANCAKE!!!
Um. Yes. Glad I could help!
You are SUCH a joy, Mike!!
I’d say we all benefitted from that cocked eyebrow. Thank you “Dan”. I’m pretty sure we can also thank Jack and Jerry.
Every editor I’ve ever had taught me something of significance. But Dan was the adverb guy.
What a valuable lesson the boss man gave you since it works for fiction too. I admit, however, I do occasionally let an adverb slip in. Don’t tell anyone though.
Your secret is safe with me!
“Thank you,” she says sincerely, cheeringly, and gratefully.
Don’t make me regret keeping your secret.
Good reminders Mike! I’m often lazy and use adverbs, but the details make the writing come alive.
Adverbs really bother me now. Harry Potter is lousy with them.
I think they still serve, but you helped me see how we can overuse them, and description adds more punch!
Oh, the HPs are great books, but the adverbs! Whyyyy!
I’m glad I’ve already read HP or I would see every adverb and it would make me crazy.
Back in the 1990s when I devoted myself to writing plays, I found it nearly impossible to enjoy a stage show. I became too hypersensitive to expository dialogue.
And then you sold your soul, crossed the Rubicon, and became a flack. Oh, that was me. Nevermind.
Oh, pish tosh, Lisa. You are none of those things. You are a well-oiled cog in the Independent School Machine.
“Cog” sounds so much better than soulless flack. I guess that’s why you are a writer.
That’s why they pay me the big bucks!
Oh, wait.
Ah yes. I can relate, Mike. Until we get used to the idea that we don’t write perfectly, the criticisms are like sandpaper and they get our hackles up. Then the light bulb flicks on and the chimes jingle and we get it. After that criticism becomes a gift. I have a few Dan’s lurking in my past, too :-).
I think I was pretty good at accepting constructive criticism. But Dan’s criticism was simultaneously constructive and destructive. This, I think, cultivated a rebellious streak.
Don’t you hate it when people who criticize you are right? It is the worst! But writing without overuse of adverbs is a lesson worth learning. You don’t have to like the messenger as long as it saves you from being mistaken for Tom Swift.
Oh, it’s maddening! I can deal with any constructive criticism—as long as said criticism isn’t smug!
Even if he was right, “Dan” could have used some lessons himself, in interacting with people. When you have to make the other person feel stupid, you are obviously a jerk who has no self confidence.
I have worked as an adult tutor and stupid is the last thing we want our adult students to feel. I’m glad you had some good follow up bosses.
I had some interesting bosses over the years, including the dentist that threw instruments at me when he was upset. My souvenir from that job was an ulcer.
This world has too many jerks in it.
And dang, that dentist was nuts! Was he throwing around that metal hook thing?
That is a great story! Dan did mentor you, even though his body language and tone of voice was intimidating.
I’d replace “intimidating” with “obnoxious.”
Sometimes people will teach us something whether we are in a “learning” mood or not. It was a good way to learn something new though wasn’t it? Would you have been as receptive to what he said had you not figured it out on your own after his reaction?? I admire the way you took his words and looked to see if there was merit… that is the true sign of a person who is always willing to self-examine. Congrats!