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If there's nothing else I ever say that's retained by the readers of
these editorials, I'd like you to to remember this: there is no part
of speech as powerful, as lively or as valuable as the verb. You can
throw in a passel of gabby adjectives, but nothing will enliven your
writing, or make it as crisp as the snap of a well-placed
action word. Nothing else has the zip.

Have you ever read something that, for all the wonderful word
choices, just seems bogged-down and lifeless? Next time take a look
at what parts of speech those words choices consist--- how many
adjectives did you find? Indeed in this type of writing, I'll warrant
there's not one unmodified noun to be found. They'll be choking with
the briars of description grown up around them like some unweeded
lot, and trying desperately to jump about and break free of them.


If you want to wake up your writing, describe by using action words.
Instead of "tapered fingers tapped on the dark, mahogany table"-
try "fingers drummed the tabletop as nerves thrummed, wanting to
shred mahogany", and so on. The mind latches onto an image much
better when there is movement. The mind does not become bored
watching rabbits hop, but it will fall asleep hearing a long-winded
description of those actions.


After you've finished a poem, read it through again and see if there
are spots where a verb could have been used in place of an adjective
or adverb. See what happens when you do that. Does it open its eyes
and snap awake? If so, you know you've injected some fine old life
into it and created something more vital just by the substitution
of one part of speech for another.


The creme-de-la-creme is being able to rhyme a verb with
another word-- that's when a poem really picks up and begins to
skip for you. Take this example, Thomas Gray's "Elegy Written
in a Country Courtyard"


For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,
Or busy housewife ply her evening care,
No children run to lisp their Sire's return,
Nor climb his knees the envied kiss to share.


Here you can see the internal rhyming as well as end-rhyme
usage, but what makes this crackle with life are the startling
choices of 'lisp' and 'ply' and ''climb. 'Ply' blends sonically with
'Sire's' and 'climb'-- and 'lisp' with 'his'-- and this one strophe
becomes golden not only in the way it sounds, but
in the way we see the action, not merely
hear it described.


Granted, I 've said before that rhymed poetry is not my favorite-
but we can learn from the more careful word choices, and profit
by the more finely-tuned ear of an earlier time- so careful of
what they plucked and what they discarded as simply filler.
Most times- the good ones- they weigh in heavily on
the power of the verb, and for good reason: they
wanted to zip, zag and zoom.



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