Power Verbs for Better Writing

By Ms. P. Meneilly, Senior School English Teacher 

Consider Bob: He slouches. He preens. He meanders. He strides.

Now, consider the qualities of each verb that describe his motion. (Verbs are action words and the power centre of any sentence.) All the verbs on offer above are much more effective and visual than their generic cousin: walks.

That’s because each word is specific. It conveys a style of movement and suggests an attitude on the part of the mover. Also, each conjures up a picture of how Bob walks. Thus, you and I know exactly what Bob looks like, and we can infer what he intends or imagine what he thinks of himself.

When an image is created in a reader’s mind, the writer has mastered a form of mind control. While I am firmly against this activity in general, I favour it when assuming the attitude of reader. In fact, I desire that a writer create a fully realized world into which I step when I pick up a printed or written page. Don’t you?

We all have favourite writers--those who offer up circumstances, imagery and characters that appeal specifically to us. Consider, for example, how Mark Helprin’s Winter’s Tale, although a risky amalgam of magic realism and New York aesthetic, exemplifies a writer’s craft. Readers consent to believe in time travel and a majestic horse that can fly in no small part because Helprin’s sentences are energy bombs.

But it isn’t just writers of fiction who benefit from effective use of verbs. A successful sales summary or an annual report that states explicitly what actions will be taken and by whom is powerful because it demonstrates understanding of the present and makes promises concerning behaviour in the future.

Likewise, an expository essay, whether in English or history class, requires confident commitment to an argument. Specific and visual verbs are the key to making an effective case.

By contrast, using insipid action and indistinct "being verbs" weakens writing. In the case of a student writer, "being verbs" surface to tell her readers what a character or historical figures "is," not what he or she "does." An essay in this style frequently resembles the most basic of biographies: those that simply list the facts of someone’s life. By contrast, a thoughtful investigation of what an individual does, followed by an interpretation of those actions, makes a more interesting read.

That’s because in order to be compelling, the writer of the piece needed to absorb the details of a fictional or historical character’s life and draw conclusions. It is these conclusions, named explicitly and visually, that convince readers.

Consider how even a fairly articulate argument is diminished through use of weak verbs in the following character paragraph about To Kill a Mockingbird. (Reminder: In this novel, narrator Scout Finch watches compassionately yet naively as the racism and parochialism of the Deep South literally and figuratively claim the lives of people she cares for.)

Weak verbs: Scout Finch is outraged by the racism she confronts. She is driven to protect Tom Robinson, a black man accused of rape, simply because of his race. Ironically, Scout is Tom’s inadvertent protector when she is kind to one of her father’s clients as he arrives at the town jail, intent on lynching Tom.

Strong verbs: Scout Finch rejects the racism she confronts and abhors the accusation that Tom Robinson is guilty of rape simply because of his race. Ironically, Scout inadvertently defends Tom when she offers a kind word to one of her father’s clients as he storms the town jail, intent on lynching Tom.

Both of the paragraphs above are strong but one–the second one–is dynamic. The character is central. She is active. And therefore, to us busy human beings, she is more interesting. A simple switch in verbs was all that was required to move the argument from a vague mindspace to the realm of actual people.

Well, actual, fictional people . . . .