Boiling Brendan Coleman

This week's post comes from Brendan Coleman, a friend-from-the-web who's just trying his hand at this whole writing thing. He sent me 502 words of zombie goodness to condense. Let's see what we can do.

The Original:

John smiled as he drew the bowstring. Thoughts of archery classes at his Cub Scout Summer camp came unbidden to him. He had found a joy in archery and had taken to it with a passion. Now, ten years later, he was a bow hunter and had competed in regional competitions, placing rather well in them all. He took a breath and released an arrow.

It sailed through the air and hit its mark, piercing the skull of his shambling prey and dropping it. John ran across the parking lot, keeping low and using cars for cover, and retrieved his arrow from the zombie. This was the only one between him and the supermarket's front door, but, there were more than he cared to deal with ambling around.

To his dismay, the door to the store was locked and all the windows appeared to be intact. John had brought a pry-bar along and pulled it out of his backpack. He jabbed it into the glass near where the lock was, but, the bar bounced off, barely scratching it. He jabbed harder. Nothing. He leaned back and then jabbed as hard as he could. He had successfully scuffed the glass. Then he noticed the change in the moans. He looked out into the lot and several of the shamblers had noticed him. And the ones who hadn't would soon enough notice the ones who had noticed him.

'Shit,' he muttered. John backed away from the door, keeping them in his line of sight the whole time. Some of them could be quick and taking your eyes off of them was a good way to get dead. He made his way to the corner of the building and gave a quick glace around it. There were two undead. Then he noticed the employee's only door was cracked open slightly. How had he missed that, he wondered. He moved quickly towards it, cracking the first zombie in the head with his pry-bar. The second one tripped on a crack and John jumped over it and kept going. He went in and pulled the door shut behind him.

He crept into the store, staying alert and looked up at the signs at the end of the aisles. Pet stuff, paper products, kitchen stuff, canned food. This was his first stop. There were cans strewn on the floor and the shelves had been raided, but, they weren't empty. He walked along and checked the cans on the floor. Several cans of lima beans, some tuna, a can of corn. Someone was still a fussy eater, even during the apocalypse. John stuck them in his backpack. He grabbed a few more cans off the shelf for good measure.

The back of the store was all of the refrigerated and perishable stuff. It was all perished.

The next aisle had a body half way along and John decided he'd skip this one. It was all deodorant and smelling good was the last he was worried about these days.

The Condensation:

So my first impression is "wall of text". The paragraphs are too large, but this should be easy to fix as we go. Some of them might condense down on their own, others may be split up.

John smiled as he drew the bowstring. Thoughts of archery classes at his Cub Scout Summer camp came unbidden to him. He had found a joy in archery and had taken to it with a passion. Now, ten years later, he was a bow hunter and had competed in regional competitions, placing rather well in them all. He took a breath and released an arrow.

"as he" = "and".

The second sentence is almost entirely redundant with the third.

In the third, one would not take to archery with a passion without finding joy in it.

My issue with the fourth sentence isn't so much in how it's phrased, but that it's there. We have to slog through this sentence that essentially tells us that he's good, but we get that anyway when he hits his target--which is much more interesting at this point than his background.

"took a breath" = inhaled, and I added "held it" to the last sentence, because that's what you do.

John smiled and drew the bowstring. In Cub Scouts a decade prior he'd taken to archery with a passion. He inhaled, held it, and released.

It sailed through the air and hit its mark, piercing the skull of his shambling prey and dropping it. John ran across the parking lot, keeping low and using cars for cover, and retrieved his arrow from the zombie. This was the only one between him and the supermarket's front door, but, there were more than he cared to deal with ambling around.

The arrow could hardly have pierced the skull of his prey without both sailing through the air and hitting its mark. We can then remove "and" from the shortened sentence.

Because humans are taller than cars, John can't use them for cover without keeping low. As a general rule, try to pick just one descriptor for any given action.

Let's boil this paragraph down further by frontloading the supermarket information, then bumping the last sentence to the middle.

It pierced the skull of his shambling prey, dropping the only zombie between him and the supermarket. More than he cared to deal with ambled nearby. He ran across the parking lot, using cars for cover, and retrieved his arrow.

To his dismay, the door to the store was locked and all the windows appeared to be intact. John had brought a pry-bar along and pulled it out of his backpack. He jabbed it into the glass near where the lock was, but, the bar bounced off, barely scratching it. He jabbed harder. Nothing. He leaned back and then jabbed as hard as he could. He had successfully scuffed the glass. Then he noticed the change in the moans. He looked out into the lot and several of the shamblers had noticed him. And the ones who hadn't would soon enough notice the ones who had noticed him.

"To his dismay" is a tell rather than a show, and I don't know that it's necessary either way here. Avoid "appeared to" and "seemed to" and all variations thereof--they have their uses, but by and large perception in the POV character's mind may as well be reality, so just state it as such.

He couldn't pull out a crowbar he hadn't brought. "out of" = "from".

"near where the lock was" = near the lock. "barely scratching it" is the same number of words as "without a scratch", but we can ditch the comma, which makes the sentence read faster. Furthermore, if he's not taking the time to inspect, he wouldn't notice a bare scratch anyway.

"He leaned back and then jabbed as hard as he could"... How about, "He put his body into it."?

"He had successfully scuffed the glass" doesn't need to stand on its own, and certainly doesn't need "successfully"... The fact that he did it makes it a "success" such as it is.

Transitioning from door-scuffing to moans should have a paragraph break.

You never need "he noticed" or other such sensory verbage in a single POV. Ditto "he looked".

"Had noticed him" is a bit of a bland tell, so I changed it to the show, "had turned his way". This allows us to condense the last sentence, which contains too many echoes on "notice", to three ominous words.

He tried the door. Locked. He pulled a pry-bar from his backpack. He jabbed it into the glass near the lock, but it bounced off without a scratch. He jabbed harder. Nothing. He put his body into it, and scuffed the glass.

The moans changed. Several shamblers in the lot had turned his way. Others would follow.

'Shit,' he muttered. John backed away from the door, keeping them in his line of sight the whole time. Some of them could be quick and taking your eyes off of them was a good way to get dead. He made his way to the corner of the building and gave a quick glace around it. There were two undead. Then he noticed the employee's only door was cracked open slightly. How had he missed that, he wondered. He moved quickly towards it, cracking the first zombie in the head with his pry-bar. The second one tripped on a crack and John jumped over it and kept going. He went in and pulled the door shut behind him.

Single quotes should be for quotes in quotes. Otherwise, use double quotes. Also, this can break out to its own paragraph. Furthermore, as he's the only actor thus far, we don't need a speech attribution, and the period (instead of an exclamation point) makes it a mutter--or close enough.

"the whole time" can boil out.

We can squeeze the descriptor "Some of them could be quick" into the action "taking your eyes off of them". "was a good way to get dead" can be condensed in a variety of ways ("could get you killed", "could kill you", "was unadvisable"), but it's a charming turn of phrase and as such I'm going to leave it.

"He made his way" is bland. Did he jog? Saunter? Skip? Walk? Frolick? Also, "gave a quick glance" = "glanced", as glances are quick by definition; I'll take the liberty of fixing the typo "glace", which would not be caught by a spell check, but almost definitely was not what the author intended, despite the delicious visual of giving a zombie ice cream.

"There were two undead" is a passive sentence that can be combined with the next sentence.

Again, "he noticed" can go. "Cracked open" makes "slightly" redundant (as is oft the case with an adverb), and "Employees Only" should be capitalized and in quotes. This is a good place for a paragraph break.

"How had he missed that, he wondered" is, as far as I can tell, an irrelevant phrase of the "You can't fire me, I quit!" variety. (You don't want the reader to wonder how he missed it, so you make him wonder why he missed it. Don't do this--if it's reasonable that he missed it, let it go. If it's not, change the plot so that it's reasonable!)

"Moved quickly" is a perfect illustration of what should be done with most adverbs: eliminate the adverb by picking a better verb. Oddly enough, "towards" (as well as "backwards" and a variety of other words) annoy the crap out of some people, but "toward", "backward", and so forth annoy no one. I can't explain why, but it's true, so don't add the "s". In this case, though, we can do one better and boil it out completely with the use of the verb "charge".

You have an echo on "crack"--first in the head with a pry-bar, then tripped upon.

"and kept going" is a bit bland.

"shut it behind him" can lose "behind him", and given the urgency of the situation, "slammed" is more likely (even if shutting it is more wise in the "I don't want to make noise" sense.)

"Shit."

John backed away from the door, keeping them in his line of sight. Taking your eyes off of the quick ones was a good way to get dead. He jogged to the corner of the building and glanced around it. Two undead stood between him and the ajar "Employees Only" door.

He charged, cracking the first in the head with his pry-bar, body checking the second. John jumped over the fallen zombie, scrambled through the door, and slammed it.

He crept into the store, staying alert and looked up at the signs at the end of the aisles. Pet stuff, paper products, kitchen stuff, canned food. This was his first stop. There were cans strewn on the floor and the shelves had been raided, but, they weren't empty. He walked along and checked the cans on the floor. Several cans of lima beans, some tuna, a can of corn. Someone was still a fussy eater, even during the apocalypse. John stuck them in his backpack. He grabbed a few more cans off the shelf for good measure.

"into the store" = "in".

"staying alert" is a tell. How about "eyes wide"?

"looked up at" = "surveyed"

I'm not sure what "This was his first stop" is supposed to mean, and it breaks up the narrative, so I'd boil it out.

"There were" is clutter, and "but, they" can lose the comma and the "they". Add a paragraph break here.

"Walked along" is clutter--human mobility can be assumed in most cases. A judicious semicolon saves us a few more words, and plurality of lima beans can be inferred when contrasted with "a" can of corn.

The last two sentences can be combined, and "for good measure" is clutter.

He crept in, eyes wide, and surveyed the signs at the end of the aisles. Pet stuff, paper products, kitchen stuff, canned food. Cans strewed across the floor and the shelves had been raided, but weren't empty.

He checked the cans on the floor; lima beans, some tuna, a can of corn. Someone was a fussy eater, even during the apocalypse. John stuck them in his backpack, with several more off the shelf.

The back of the store was all of the refrigerated and perishable stuff. It was all perished.

The next aisle had a body half way along and John decided he'd skip this one. It was all deodorant and smelling good was the last he was worried about these days.

Combine the first two sentences. "It was all perished" is pretty funny, and I'd like to preserve that humor. We can condense further by putting it at the end of the next paragraph. Furthermore, "all" is redundant in such an inclusive statement.

Let's condense the second paragraph by combining the passive description with the action, and replacing the somewhat clunky phrase "was the last he was worried about" with "wasn't a priority".

John skipped the deodorant aisle because of the face-down body. Smelling good wasn't a priority these days. The perishables at the back of the store had perished.

The Result

John smiled and drew the bowstring. In Cub Scouts a decade prior he'd taken to archery with a passion. He inhaled, held it, and released.
 It pierced the skull of his shambling prey, dropping the only zombie between him and the supermarket. More than he cared to deal with ambled nearby. He ran across the parking lot, using cars for cover, and retrieved his arrow.
 He tried the door. Locked. He pulled a pry-bar from his backpack. He jabbed it into the glass near the lock, but it bounced off without a scratch. He jabbed harder. Nothing. He put his body into it, and scuffed the glass.
 The moans changed. Several shamblers in the lot had turned his way. Others would follow.
 "Shit."

John backed away from the door, keeping them in his line of sight. Taking your eyes off of the quick ones was a good way to get dead. He jogged to the corner of the building and glanced around it. Two undead stood between him and the ajar "Employees Only" door.
 He charged, cracking the first in the head with his pry-bar, body checking the second. John jumped over the fallen zombie, scrambled through the door, and slammed it.
 He crept in, eyes wide, and surveyed the signs at the end of the aisles. Pet stuff, paper products, kitchen stuff, canned food. Cans strewed across the floor and the shelves had been raided, but weren't empty.
 He checked the cans on the floor; lima beans, some tuna, a can of corn. Someone was a fussy eater, even during the apocalypse. John stuck them in his backpack, with several more off the shelf.
 John skipped the deodorant aisle because of the face-down body. Smelling good wasn't a priority these days. The perishables at the back of the store had perished.

302 from 502 is a 40% reduction. What would you have done differently?

A cup of Joe Klippelt.

This week's piece is the rough draft introduction to a WIP by Australian Joe Klippelt. (I mention his origin only because their spelling conventions and word usage are more UKanian than Amercan, which I ignore in this boiling.) 

It's got a casual, hey-I'm-talking-to-you feel that needs to be preserved as we boil down the 533 words.

The Original:

It’s funny how popular history works. I say the word “Salem” and what do you think of? Witches, right? Being hanged or burned at the stake? Of course. It’s one of those “dark periods of human history” that we, in our safe, modern society find so fascinating.

Salem. The Crusades. The plagues. The World Wars. Accounts of of strife, death and suffering make for much more interesting reading than farmers’ almanacs from the same periods.

But we especially seem to be fascinated by tales of the supernatural – witches, vampires, werewolves, zombies. Just look at some of the most popular books, TV shows and films from the last decade alone.  Maybe it’s because, unlike religious crusades, horrific pandemics or warfare, we really are safe from the monsters. Because of course, monsters don’t exist. They can ALL be rationalised away as hallucinogenic fungus infections, porphyria, superstition, mental illness and mass hysteria.

Right?

Wrong.

They most certainly are real. How do I know? I am one.

If I had been born during the 300 year witch panic that engulfed Europe and parts of America from the 15^th until the 17^th century, I most certainly would have been placed on trial and murdered along with the 47,366 other unfortunates. Hell, even today in certain parts of the world, if I were to make public the things I can do I would be stoned, or burned, or even flayed alive.

We like our monsters on paper and celluloid, not on the streets.

I’m not a vampire, although I know a few, and I’m not a werewolf either, though I know at least one pack of those. I’m not a zombie, but if you want to see mindless hordes doggedly pursuing an ephemeral goal with single-minded determination, look around any office or shopping centre. I’m not even technically a witch, although it does depend on who you ask. For example, don’t ask the Church.

See, magic is stage illusion. Magick is real. I can perform magick. I can see and speak to the dead. I can heal or harm with a touch. I can influence the weather and talk to animals. Sometimes, they talk back. I don’t know how I can do these and other unusual things, so don’t expect a scientific explanation. I just can, and have done since I can remember.

Now if I’m telling the truth, you might be thinking to yourself, it must be pretty nifty to be me. It really isn’t. In fact, most days it truly sucks. Primarily because I’m not the only one who has “special powers”, and I’m not friends with everyone who does. In fact, most of them are my mortal enemies, and would murder me on sight. Even some “normal” folk who know what we are capable of would happily see us smooshed into a messy puddle. Many governments around the world even secretly fund and equip clandestine “investigators” with that very aim in mind. So in that regard, I’m not much better off than those poor souls who burned at the stake 300 years ago.

But if I am going to be really honest with you, being me does have some upsides. Let me tell you about one...

The Condensation:

It’s funny how popular history works. I say the word “Salem” and what do you think of? Witches, right? Being hanged or burned at the stake? Of course. It’s one of those “dark periods of human history” that we, in our safe, modern society find so fascinating.

"I say the word" is perhaps too familiar, especially given that the rhetorical questions already make this a direct address to the reader. A quick trim gives us:

It’s funny how popular history works. What does “Salem” make you think of? Witches, right? Being hanged or burned at the stake? Of course. It’s one of those “dark periods of human history” that we, in our safe, modern society find so fascinating.

Salem. The Crusades. The plagues. The World Wars. Accounts of of strife, death and suffering make for much more interesting reading than farmers’ almanacs from the same periods.

The double "of" has to go, of course.

"Make for much" is the same thing as "are", and because in order to have survived until now it had to have been written down, "reading" is redundant.

Salem. The Crusades. The plagues. The World Wars. Accounts of strife, death and suffering are more interesting than farmers’ almanacs from the same periods.

But we especially seem to be fascinated by tales of the supernatural – witches, vampires, werewolves, zombies. Just look at some of the most popular books, TV shows and films from the last decade alone.  Maybe it’s because, unlike religious crusades, horrific pandemics or warfare, we really are safe from the monsters. Because of course, monsters don’t exist. They can ALL be rationalised away as hallucinogenic fungus infections, porphyria, superstition, mental illness and mass hysteria.

Right?

Wrong.

This paragraph needs almost no rephrasing, just some red lines from the editor's pen.

We can boil out the adverb "especially", as well as both "to be" and "tales of".

"Just" is filler, and can go. "some of" and "most popular" don't serve enough purpose to justify 

their inclusion, either.

Crusades are religious, pandemics are horrific. The phrase "we really are safe from the monsters" is redundant with the fact that they don't exist. "Because of course" is overfamiliar again, and we can boil it out.

The one spot I rephrased is the last sentence. "They can be rationalized away" fails the "by zombies" test, so I changed it to something more active.

But we seem fascinated by the supernatural – witches, vampires, werewolves, zombies. Look at the books, TV shows and films from the last decade alone.  Maybe it’s because, unlike crusades, pandemics or warfare, monsters don’t exist. We can rationalise them away as hallucinogenic fungus infections, porphyria, superstition, mental illness and mass hysteria.

Right?

Wrong.

They most certainly are real. How do I know? I am one.

"most certainly" just makes the sentence longer.

I boiled out "How do I know?" because it's redundant with the information, and because even though this is first person dialogue, rhetorical questions are astoundingly easy to overdo.

They're real. I am one.

If I had been born during the 300 year witch panic that engulfed Europe and parts of America from the 15^th until the 17^th century, I most certainly would have been placed on trial and murdered along with the 47,366 other unfortunates. Hell, even today in certain parts of the world, if I were to make public the things I can do I would be stoned, or burned, or even flayed alive.

"I had" can become a contraction. The time/place of the witch panic is common knowledge, which can always be omitted. "most certainly" is clutter.

I want to take a moment and discuss 47,366 in detail.

This level of specificity is almost never needed. It's okay to round. We see it all the time in approximations, too--a person is "about 5'9" or "around two hundred and ten pounds". Nobody assumes these kinds of numbers are perfect, so we can round them without saying that it's approximate.

Even if it's the correct number, it forces the reader to pause and say, "Really? Do we know that accurately? Does the main character? If he does, how?" Unless his knowledge of this specificity is important to the plot, it becomes a mental anchor on the paragraph.

Finally, when it comes to reading a number like that, some people will skim over it but others will read it out, so in their head this is a boiling from "forty-seven thousand, three hundred and sixty-six" (eight words) to "fifty thousand" (two words), a much more efficient nugget of information. Microsoft Word counts this as an addition of one word, but your brain won't.

The last sentence can boil down a bit by realizing that the "making public" part is implied; if people didn't know, there'd be no consequences.

If I'd been born during the 300 year witch panic, I would have been placed on trial and murdered along with the fifty thousand other unfortunates. Hell, today in certain parts of the world I'd be stoned, or burned, or even flayed alive for what I can do.

We like our monsters on paper and celluloid, not on the streets.

No changes here.

We like our monsters on paper and celluloid, not on the streets.

I’m not a vampire, although I know a few, and I’m not a werewolf either, though I know at least one pack of those. I’m not a zombie, but if you want to see mindless hordes doggedly pursuing an ephemeral goal with single-minded determination, look around any office or shopping centre. I’m not even technically a witch, although it does depend on who you ask. For example, don’t ask the Church.

I've never been a big fan of using precious words to tell people what isn't, but this has the feel of a bit of a confession, so I think it's probably okay. I'd need to see the rest of the story to make a final determination on whether or not we could get away with eliminating this entire paragraph. So for the purposes of Word Soup, let's keep it and boil it down.

The beasties in the first sentence can be combined.

"even" is clutter, as is "For example".

"although it does depend" = "depending".

I’m not a vampire or werewolf, although I know some of each. I’m not a zombie, but if you want to see mindless hordes doggedly pursuing an ephemeral goal with single-minded determination, look around any office or shopping centre. I’m not technically a witch, depending on who you ask. Don’t ask the Church.

See, magic is stage illusion. Magick is real. I can perform magick. I can see and speak to the dead. I can heal or harm with a touch. I can influence the weather and talk to animals. Sometimes, they talk back. I don’t know how I can do these and other unusual things, so don’t expect a scientific explanation. I just can, and have done since I can remember.

The first line is overdone nominalism--what you call it doesn't change what it is--and it comes across as trite. On the other hand, we want to convey the information. For the sake of style, I think it would be better to change the first two sentences even if it adds words.

There are six "can"s in this paragraph, and it reads like it.

"can perform" = "do".

"I can see" can lose the can, as can "I can influence". (Wow. Say that ten times fast.)

"I can do these and other unusual things" is clutter.

"with a touch" can become "my touch".

"have done" is very British, which is fine, but because "since I can remember" is close enough to "always" in a personal narrative, we end up boiling it out anyway.

We in the know call stage illusion magic, and the real stuff magick. I do magick. I see and speak to the dead. My touch can heal or harm. I influence the weather and talk to animals. Sometimes they talk back. I don’t know how, so don’t expect a scientific explanation. I just always have.

Now if I’m telling the truth, you might be thinking to yourself, it must be pretty nifty to be me. It really isn’t. In fact, most days it truly sucks. Primarily because I’m not the only one who has “special powers”, and I’m not friends with everyone who does. In fact, most of them are my mortal enemies, and would murder me on sight. Even some “normal” folk who know what we are capable of would happily see us smooshed into a messy puddle. Many governments around the world even secretly fund and equip clandestine “investigators” with that very aim in mind. So in that regard, I’m not much better off than those poor souls who burned at the stake 300 years ago.

That is one big honkin' paragraph. Let's boil it down, see how it looks, then see if it needs to be (and can) be split.

"Now if I'm telling the truth" is something I might cut, but it does key the reader into the fact that the narrator knows that the reader might think he's lying, so it's important enough to keep if and only if this is important characterization. I'm going to assume it is and leave it in. (This is another of those times where dialogue between editor and author would be necessary.)

I understand that when dealing with the supernatural, it may be possible to think to someone else, but if so, that's the situation that should be called out. Otherwise, all thinking is to one's self.

"pretty nifty to be me" = "nifty being me". ("pretty" is clutter either way).

The evilest of all adverbs is "really". It has its place, once in a great while, but can almost always be eliminated with no loss of content.

"In fact" is clutter. Even in a familiar narrative like this, once is probably too much. Twice in the same paragraph is definitely too much.

"truly" can go.

"Primarily because I'm not the only one who has "special powers" is redundant--we already know there are vampires, werewolves, and those who do magick.

"mortal enemies" is redundant with "murder me on sight".

"Even" and "happily" can go.

"Many" in front of "governments around the world" is another case where specificity isn't needed--whether or not it's all governments probably isn't important to the story. "around the world" can go, because, well, where else would these governments be? "secretly" is redundant with "clandestine", and we can boil out almost every "very" we find. On a re-read post-edits, I felt that combining this sentence with the one before it reads better, at the cost of an added "and".

"in that regard" is a bit like "in fact"; it doesn't serve a purpose.

In looking at what's left, it can be split into two paragraphs.

Now if I’m telling the truth, you might think it must be nifty being me. It isn’t. Most days it sucks.

I’m not friends with everyone with "special powers". Most would murder me on sight. Some “normal” folk would see us smooshed into a messy puddle, and governments fund clandestine “investigators” with that aim in mind. So I’m not much better off than those poor souls who burned at the stake 300 years ago.

But if I am going to be really honest with you, being me does have some upsides. Let me tell you about one...

Just a few little things here:

"I am" = "I'm", kill the "really", and "does have" = "has".

But if I'm going to be honest with you, being me has some upsides. Let me tell you about one...

Having read the final draft, I'm convinced that the "what I'm not" paragraph doesn't need to be there. "I'm not a werewolf, vampire, or zombie" is redundant with "I do magick." "I'm not a witch" conflicts with "don't ask the church"--if the church thinks he(?)'s a witch, then to some extent he's a witch; if he disagrees with the label, this can come out later in the story in a seamless manner.

...and I have no idea if he's a he, but I assume that will become apparent at some point later in the story.

The final product:

It’s funny how popular history works. What does “Salem” make you think of? Witches, right? Being hanged or burned at the stake? Of course. It’s one of those “dark periods of human history” that we, in our safe, modern society find so fascinating.

Salem. The Crusades. The plagues. The World Wars. Accounts of strife, death and suffering are more interesting than farmers’ almanacs from the same periods.

But we seem fascinated by the supernatural – witches, vampires, werewolves, zombies. Look at the books, TV shows and films from the last decade alone.  Maybe it’s because, unlike crusades, pandemics or warfare, monsters don’t exist. We can rationalise them away as hallucinogenic fungus infections, porphyria, superstition, mental illness and mass hysteria.

Right?

Wrong. 

They're real. I am one. 

If I'd been born during the 300 year witch panic, I would have been placed on trial and murdered along with the fifty thousand other unfortunates. Hell, today in certain parts of the world I'd be stoned, or burned, or even flayed alive for what I can do.

We like our monsters on paper and celluloid, not on the streets. 

We in the know call stage illusion magic, and the real stuff magick. I do magick. I see and speak to the dead. My touch can heal or harm. I influence the weather and talk to animals. Sometimes they talk back. I don’t know how, so don’t expect a scientific explanation. I just always have.

Now if I’m telling the truth, you might think it must be nifty being me. It isn’t. Most days it sucks.

I’m not friends with everyone with "special powers". Most would murder me on sight. Some “normal” folk would see us smooshed into a messy puddle, and governments fund clandestine “investigators” with that aim in mind. So I’m not much better off than those poor souls who burned at the stake 300 years ago. 

But if I'm going to be honest with you, being me has some upsides. Let me tell you about one...

That's 334 words down from 533. 199 words comes out to a 37% reduction. How did I do?

A Boiling named Sue

Sue Jerrems sent me a 590-word snippet of her work in progress. Here it is:

     In the past year, he did not think much more could go wrong in his life.  Hard to believe a few years ago he thought he had the world in his hand.  Everything he wanted from life--his own business thriving and growing; a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood; a gorgeous wife and two children, a boy and girl--was his.  Before their fifth anniversary however, he already suspected the marriage was not all he had hoped for.

     The first glimpse of Elaine, back in 1965, astounded him.  Her blond hair was stacked in a woven beehive.  The mini-skirts, which just started a scandalous craze, looked fabulous topping her long shapely legs.  At his shop, when she stepped out of her Mustang, one of the first muscle cars Ford built, her allure entrapped him. 

     Most of the desire was young raging male hormones and an inflated ego.  Conscious of his image, he kept his body well muscled and trim, while letting his hair reach almost to his shoulders in a small show of rebellion.  At only twenty-two, to be the sole owner of such a successful car repair and restoration shop made him unusual, too.  He had the money to indulge himself and the women he dated, giving him an edge over the competition.  Not to mention, the relaxing attitudes of the 60’s had allowed him to have far freer ways with the ladies. 

     Since she was three years older than Chuck, he did not expect her to respond to his advances.  Yet, with enough money to indulge her whims, she not only noticed him but enjoyed his company.  At least he thought she did, when he was so full of himself he did not heed the warnings of his lifelong friends.  No matter that they called her a predator and gold-digger, he chalked their attitude up to jealousy. 

     So what, he thought, if at twenty-five she was a divorcee; everyone can make a mistake.  True, she scorned shopping in Flint, but then on a body as fine as hers, getting her clothes at JC Penny or Montgomery Wards seemed ludicrous.  He did not mind taking her on the shopping expeditions down in Detroit.  Afterwards they stopped by the London Chop House for dinner and spent the night at the new Hotel Pontchartrain.  With her encouragement, Elaine made him believe he was a big shot, while she snagged another victim in her web of greed.   

     Now, a decade after their first meeting, he wished to God he had listened.  Failing that, when she became pregnant ‘accidentally’ in spite of claiming she was on the pill and his using condoms, he wished he saw her intent.  Infatuation blinded him.  He wanted a family, loved the idea of having someone to settle down with and share his success.  If he needed to marry her to make her an honest woman and legitimize their child, the creation of a family brought him closer to what he sought for his future. 

      The first warning bell should have chimed at the wedding.  The ceremony had been completely overdone, and even with her parents picking up half the bill, the spectacle left him in debt.  She deliberately chatted with her maid of honor while Bucky gave his toast.  The guy standing at his side, his best man, offering a salute to their future, was his closest friend, his guiding force, and yet she showed him no respect.  After the wedding, he quickly found she dismissed most of his old friends as trivial and beneath him.

The Condensation:

     In the past year, he did not think much more could go wrong in his life.  Hard to believe a few years ago he thought he had the world in his hand.  Everything he wanted from life--his own business thriving and growing; a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood; a gorgeous wife and two children, a boy and girl--was his.  Before their fifth anniversary however, he already suspected the marriage was not all he had hoped for.

Judicious use of contractions helps keep prose from becoming stilted. "Did not" can become "didn't" with no trouble. We can consolidate "In the past year" and "in his life" to the phrase "in one year".

"Hard to believe" is redundant with the first sentence, and because we're in his POV, we don't need "he thought". "In the past year" conflicts with "a few years ago".

I'm not a fan of splitting up sentences when it can be avoided, and we have the semicolons anyway. So why not say, "He had everything--" and then do the list? But even that's redundant with the prior sentence, so let's combine them. Because he had it, we don't need to say "his own" business, and if it's growing, it's thriving (or vice-versa), so we can pick which of those we like the best and go with it. Boy children are sons, girl children are daughters.

In the last sentence, the "however" is there to contrast the joy of the previous sentence, but might be better said as "but". "Already" isn't needed. "Was not" = "wasn't", and "he had" = "he'd". I'm going to keep "the marriage" instead of changing it to "his marriage" or "their marriage", because from the whole passage it seems that this emotional distance is intentional.

Finally, give us his name up-front.

Chuck didn't think much more could go wrong in one year. He'd had everything--a thriving business, a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood, a gorgeous wife, a son and a daughter. But by their fifth anniversary, he suspected the marriage wasn't all he'd hoped for.

     The first glimpse of Elaine, back in 1965, astounded him.  Her blond hair was stacked in a woven beehive.  The mini-skirts, which just started a scandalous craze, looked fabulous topping her long shapely legs.  At his shop, when she stepped out of her Mustang, one of the first muscle cars Ford built, her allure entrapped him. 

I'd change "The" to "His", just to make it more active. As the past is implicit, we don't need "back". The "in 1965" clutters up the sentence, so we can find a better way to incorporate the date.

Her blond hair was stacked...by zombies. Get rid of the was, and choose an active verb. Incidentally, male blonds are blond, female blondes are blonde. As we're describing his first glimpse, I'd not pluralize mini-skirt.

"Which had just started" = "that new", and would only look fabulous if those long legs were shapely. And to be a bit of a sexist pig for a moment, a man wouldn't think that the mini-skirt looked fabulous on those legs, he'd think that those legs looked great in that mini-skirt!

I don't think it's necessary to tell the reader that he Mustang was one of Ford's first muscle cars; those who know don't need to be told, and those who don't know almost definitely don't care. Furthermore, I very much doubt that this piece of information furthers the plot, and it breaks up the narrative, so we should boil it out. "Her allure entrapped him" is two words too long.

Finally, the structure of the paragraph is a bit disjointed. It would flow more if the description was melded with the action.

His first glimpse of Elaine astounded him. She pulled up to his shop in her brand new 1965 Mustang, a blonde beehive crowning her head. She stepped out on fabulous long legs under that scandalous new craze, a mini-skirt, and entrapped him.

     Most of the desire was young raging male hormones and an inflated ego.  Conscious of his image, he kept his body well muscled and trim, while letting his hair reach almost to his shoulders in a small show of rebellion.  At only twenty-two, to be the sole owner of such a successful car repair and restoration shop made him unusual, too.  He had the money to indulge himself and the women he dated, giving him an edge over the competition.  Not to mention, the relaxing attitudes of the 60’s had allowed him to have far freer ways with the ladies. 

We know he's male, and we learn in the paragraph that he was twenty-two at the time, so "young" can go. "Raging horemones" and "inflated ego" are a trite phrases; both can boil out a word.

"Conscious of his image"  = "Image-conscious". Well-muscled has a hyphen. "While letting his hair reach" = "his hair".

"At only twenty-two, to be the sole owner of" = "Owning [X] at twenty-two", and we can kill the "such"--we know it was thriving from the previous paragraph. A car repair and restoration shop is a garage.

Make "the money" the topic of the next sentence.

The last sentence is almost all clutter. "Not to mention" is a phrase that can always be boiled out--because you're mentioning it. Everyone knows what the sixties were, so there's no need to belabor the point... but we can use it to add a little characterization.

Most of his desire stemmed from hormones and ego. Image-conscious, he kept his body well-muscled and trim, and his hair almost touched his shoulders in a small show of rebellion. Owning a successful garage at twenty-two made him unusual. The money to indulge gave him an edge over the competition, and hell, it was the sixties.

     Since she was three years older than Chuck, he did not expect her to respond to his advances.  Yet, with enough money to indulge her whims, she not only noticed him but enjoyed his company.  At least he thought she did, when he was so full of himself he did not heed the warnings of his lifelong friends.  No matter that they called her a predator and gold-digger, he chalked their attitude up to jealousy.

Here, we say that she's three years older, and in the next paragraph that she's twenty-five. We don't need both.

We've got an echo on "indulge" here--we just used it in the prior paragraph. Let's change this one to "cater to". (Yes, I just added a word! Eeek!) "Not only noticed him" is redundant with "enjoyed his company".

We should be in past perfect tense here, and you're not. Also, I'd contract "did not" and change "the warnings of his lifelong friends" to "his friends' warnings." (Any "of" phrase like this can likely be condensed and made more active in one fell swoop.)

The clauses in the last sentence can be made a little more rhythmic.

He didn't expect a twenty-five-year-old to respond to his advances. Yet, with enough money to cater to her whims, she'd enjoyed his company. At least he thought she had, when he was so full of himself he hadn't heeded his friends' warnings. They called her a gold-digger; he called them jealous.

     So what, he thought, if at twenty-five she was a divorcee; everyone can make a mistake.  True, she scorned shopping in Flint, but then on a body as fine as hers, getting her clothes at JC Penny or Montgomery Wards seemed ludicrous.  He did not mind taking her on the shopping expeditions down in Detroit.  Afterwards they stopped by the London Chop House for dinner and spent the night at the new Hotel Pontchartrain.  With her encouragement, Elaine made him believe he was a big shot, while she snagged another victim in her web of greed.   

We don't need "he thought" when we're in his POV.

The next sentence can be condensed a little by combining the latter two thirds.

The fact that he took her shopping is implicit that they'd stop by the Chop House.

Something funny about the words "afterwards", "towards", "backwards", and others of their ilk: they're correct with or without the 's' at the end, but while the 's' at the end annoys some people (famously some Big Six-now-Five editors), the versions with no 's' don't. I have no idea why.

"they stopped by for dinner" = "they'd get dinner"

If it matters for ambiance that the hotel is new, call it "brand new". If not, boil it out.

"With her encouragement" is unneeded, and he is the "another victim". This sentence is quite effective at (in Chuck's mind at least) displacing all blame onto Elaine.

So what if she was a divorcee at twenty-five; everyone makes mistakes. True, she scorned shopping in Flint, but it was ludicrous to frame her fine body with JC Penny or Montgomery Wards. He didn't mind the shopping expeditions to Detroit. Afterward they'd get dinner at the London Chop House and spend the night at the Hotel Pontchartrain. Elaine made him believe he was a big shot as she entangled him in her web of greed.

     Now, a decade after their first meeting, he wished to God he had listened.  Failing that, when she became pregnant ‘accidentally’ in spite of claiming she was on the pill and his using condoms, he wished he saw her intent.  Infatuation blinded him.  He wanted a family, loved the idea of having someone to settle down with and share his success.  If he needed to marry her to make her an honest woman and legitimize their child, the creation of a family brought him closer to what he sought for his future. 

"Now" isn't needed, and "a decade after their first meeting" = "a decade later".

"when she became pregnant 'accidentally'" = "her 'accidental' pregnancy. And of course she was on the pill and he was using condoms--it could hardly be the other way around. We can combine "he wished he saw her intent" with the beginning of the sentence.

"of having someone" is redundant with "share".

"If he needed to marry her to make her" = "If marriage made her", and "what he sought for his future" = "the future he wanted." This sentence is effective in conveying his narcissism; I like the irony, especially combined with the last sentence of the previous paragraph, and we have to be careful to preserve it.

A decade later, he wished to God he'd listened. Failing that, he wished he'd seen the intent of her 'accidental' pregnancy, despite the pill and condoms. Infatuation blinded him. He wanted a family, loved the idea of settling down and sharing his success. If marriage made her an honest woman and legitimized their child, the creation of a family brought him closer to the future he wanted.

      The first warning bell should have chimed at the wedding.  The ceremony had been completely overdone, and even with her parents picking up half the bill, the spectacle left him in debt.  She deliberately chatted with her maid of honor while Bucky gave his toast.  The guy standing at his side, his best man, offering a salute to their future, was his closest friend, his guiding force, and yet she showed him no respect.  After the wedding, he quickly found she dismissed most of his old friends as trivial and beneath him.

The first and second sentence can be combined, the adverb boiled away, and just generally tidied up.

The next two sentences should be combined, because "she showed him no respect" is a redundant tell-not-show with the deliberate chatting.

The last sentence can boil down by eliminating the adverb and the qualifiers "most" and "old". "Him" should change to "them", because it's more manipulative that way.

The first warning bell should have chimed at their overdone wedding, a spectacle that left him in debt despite her parents picking up half of the bill. While Bucky, his best man, his closest friend, his guiding force, offered a toast to their future, she chatted with her maid of honor. After the wedding she dismissed his friends as trivial and beneath them.

And that boils down to:

Chuck didn't think much more could go wrong in one year. He'd had everything--a thriving business, a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood, a gorgeous wife, a son and a daughter. But by their fifth anniversary, he suspected the marriage wasn't all he'd hoped for.

His first glimpse of Elaine astounded him. She pulled up to his shop in her brand new 1965 Mustang, a blonde beehive crowning her head. She stepped out on fabulous long legs under that scandalous new craze, a mini-skirt, and entrapped him.

Most of his desire stemmed from hormones and ego. Image-conscious, he kept his body well-muscled and trim, and his hair almost touched his shoulders in a small show of rebellion. Owning a successful garage at twenty-two made him unusual. The money to indulge gave him an edge over the competition, and hell, it was the sixties.

He didn't expect a twenty-five-year-old to respond to his advances. Yet, with enough money to cater to her whims, she'd enjoyed his company. At least he thought she had, when he was so full of himself he hadn't heeded his friends' warnings. They called her a gold-digger; he called them jealous.

So what if she was a divorcee at twenty-five; everyone makes mistakes. True, she scorned shopping in Flint, but it was ludicrous to frame her fine body with JC Penny or Montgomery Wards. He didn't mind the shopping expeditions to Detroit. Afterward they'd get dinner at the London Chop House and spend the night at the Hotel Pontchartrain. Elaine made him believe he was a big shot as she entangled him in her web of greed.

A decade later, he wished to God he'd listened. Failing that, he wished he'd seen the intent of her 'accidental' pregnancy, despite the pill and condoms. Infatuation blinded him. He wanted a family, loved the idea of settling down and sharing his success. If marriage made her an honest woman and legitimized their child, the creation of a family brought him closer to the future he wanted.

The first warning bell should have chimed at their overdone wedding, a spectacle that left him in debt despite her parents picking up half of the bill. While Bucky, his best man, his closest friend, his guiding force, offered a toast to their future, she chatted with her maid of honor. After the wedding she dismissed his friends as trivial and beneath them.

That's 590 words down to 401, a reduction of 32%. I took a few liberties with this exercise that an editor wouldn't without consulting the author. How'd I do?