Don’t Go to Hell in an Adverb: Tighten Your Writing by Modifying Modifiers

Stephen King proclaimed, “The road to hell is paved with adverbs.” Mark Twain said, “When you see an adverb, kill it.” But do all adverbs deserve to die and be banished to hell?

An adverb, like an adjective, is a modifier—a word or phrase that adds description. Whereas adjectives modify nouns, adverbs modify verbs. Used carefully, adverbs can enhance a sentence.

Let’s take a look at a few examples.

Unnecessary modifiers:

With the cops persistently chasing me, I couldn’t stop to remove my high heels.

Persistently is not necessary—chasing cops are most likely persistent.

I drove sloppily into town along the muddy road.

Remove sloppily; muddy does a fine job by itself.

Necessary modifiers:

The witness supposedly lied to the jury.

If the writer of this sentence meant to place doubt about the reliability of the witness, supposedly is necessary.

Weak modifiers vs. strong verbs:

Tom forcibly closed the door when he noticed the parking ticket on his windshield.

Replace forcibly closed with slammed, a stronger verb.

Strategically placed modifiers:

“Once upon a midnight dreary…”

Edgar Allan Poe’s placement of the modifier, dreary, after the object, midnight, made for an unusual yet unforgettable line in his poem The Raven. “Once upon a dreary midnight…” takes the punch right out of the sentence, leaving it flat.

Gordon Lightfoot used the same placement in his song If You Could Read My Mind:

“In a castle dark or a fortress strong…”

This has a nice poetic ring to it, whereas “In a dark castle and a strong fortress…” sounds dull.

I hunt down adverbs in my writing as Stephen King urges, but sending them all to hell can be a bit extreme. Ask yourself of each modifier: does it improve, enhance, or clarify the sentence? If the answer is no, then follow Mark Twain’s murderous advice.