Why Your Verbs Are Secretly Killing Your Story (And How to Fix Them)

Most writers obsess over adjectives while their verbs lie there like deflated balloons at a kid’s birthday party.

TLDR

  • Weak verbs create flat, explanatory prose that bores readers to tears
  • Physical and metaphorical verbs show emotion instead of telling it
  • Strategic verb choices can transform amateur writing into professional-grade prose

The Verb Crisis Nobody Talks About

I used to think good writing was about finding the perfect adjective. You know, the one that would make my sunset “crimson” instead of “red.” Then I discovered something that made me feel like I’d been trying to fix a leaky roof with prettier wallpaper.

The real problem wasn’t my descriptions. It was my verbs.

Sarah Kaufman, a Pulitzer Prize-winning critic, argues that most writing problems are actually verb problems in disguise. Think about it: when you write “She was angry,” you’re using the weakest verb in English (“was”) to carry the entire emotional weight. But “She slammed the door” or “Her words cut through his excuses”? Now we’re cooking with gas.

From Flat to Fantastic

Here’s what happens when you upgrade from explanatory to action-driven prose. Instead of telling me “The meeting was uncomfortable,” show me how “The silence stretched between them” or “Everyone avoided eye contact.”

This shift matters whether you’re crafting fiction with tools like AI fiction writing assistance, creating visual content through AI image generation platforms, or preparing manuscripts for publishing across multiple formats.

The Physical Power Play

Physical verbs pack an emotional punch that abstract ones can’t match. Consider these pairs:

  • “He thought about it” vs. “He wrestled with the decision”
  • “She was sad” vs. “Her shoulders sagged”
  • “The idea was good” vs. “The idea sparked something”

The second versions don’t just convey information. They make your reader feel something.

When Passive Voice Actually Works

Now, before you go nuclear on every “was” and “were,” let me pump the brakes a little. Sometimes passive voice serves a purpose. “Mistakes were made” deflects responsibility beautifully (if that’s your goal). “The window was broken” focuses on the result, not the actor.

But most of the time? Your passive voice is just hiding. It’s the literary equivalent of wearing sunglasses indoors.

The next time you’re editing, circle every “was,” “were,” and “had.” Not all need fixing, but each one deserves a hard look. Your readers will thank you for it.

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