Boiling Bridgit Goett

This week's boiling comes from Bridgit Goett, who I met on the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award forums. She's offered up the first 491 words of her novel Miss Bryson Loses Her Hat. It opens with a lot of dialogue, and rather formal British dialogue at that.

Dialogue is interesting because we can express an enormous amount about people through what they say, but we can't write dialogue the way people actually talk. If we um, like, did that, our prose would like get totally run over by like run-on sentences and stuff because, um, people just don't talk in a way we want to read, you know?

Let's see what we can do with it.

The Original:

Phillip Charles Phelps-Morton, the Fourth Earl of Kensington, was sitting sprawled across a  leather chair, one leg thrown carelessly over an arm, and reading the most recent copy of The London Gazette when his valet walked into the bedchamber—a  look of gravity on his face.

Unconcerned as his valet always had a look of gravity on his face the Earl glanced up from his paper and drawled, “My dear Bertram is something the matter?”

“Nothing that can’t be solved rather easily,” replied the valet, heading straight for his master’s wardrobe. “Have you looked at the clock recently, my lord?”

“I’m sorry but I haven’t had the time,” joked the Earl.

“Ha-ha, very funny, sir, but unappreciated at the moment; have you really no idea what time it is?”

Deciding to wax philosophical, Phillip leaned his head back against the chair and said, “What is time really?”

Being of a more pragmatic bent, the valet replied, “I believe in this instance it signifies that hour of the day when you’re to get dressed for the evening.”

“Not one for thinking too deeply about things, are you, Bertram.”

“I’m thinking it’s getting awfully late if you wish to be ready on time.”

Phillip sat up straight in the chair. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don’t care if I’m on time or not. In fact, I’m not sure I even want to go out this evening at all. I can’t tell you how bored I am with this endless circle of parties and routs. It’s always so predictable—never any variation! And always the same people saying and doing it.”

The valet backed out of the wardrobe. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“All you need to know is that I’m bored.”

“Oh, is that it? Well, what say we enliven things a bit by putting on your waistcoat?” The valet waved a garment at the Earl.

Sighing heavily, Phillip stood up. “And seeing that it’s the black satin—again—is it any wonder I’m bored?”

“Yes, a black satin waistcoat is very tiresome, but perfectly suited for the evening’s festivities.” The valet pulled the garment over the Earl’s shoulders and buttoned up the front. Then, retrieving a small velvet-lined box he held it out and said, “Now which set of cuff links would you prefer?”

“Oh, I suppose those will do,” he said, pointing indifferently at a pair of gold ones.

Bertram didn’t say a word—he merely shuddered.

Amused, Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but apparently you don’t think they’ll do.”

“Oh, no, sir, they’re an excellent choice,” murmured the valet, politely. “If one were dining at home, alone, with only a kitchen maid for company.”

“I did say I wanted to stay in for the evening,” dead-panned the Earl.

“And if you were I’d let you wear the gold ones but since you aren’t might I suggest these?” The valet removed a ruby-studded link from the box.

The Condensation:

Phillip Charles Phelps-Morton, the Fourth Earl of Kensington, was sitting sprawled across a  leather chair, one leg thrown carelessly over an arm, and reading the most recent copy of The London Gazette when his valet walked into the bedchamber—a  look of gravity on his face.

Unconcerned as his valet always had a look of gravity on his face the Earl glanced up from his paper and drawled, “My dear Bertram is something the matter?”

"the Fourth Earl" can lose the "the".

We can almost always boil "was [verb]ing" down to "[verb]ed"...but in this case I think we can go a strong step further by letting "sprawled" stand on its own.

"carelessly" is, like most adverbs, clutter, as is "thrown".

The now-condensed sentence can thus lose the "and".

"the most recent copy of" is unnecessary, because when one reads a newspaper, it's only notable if it's not the most recent copy. (So "reading last Tuesday's" would give some characterization, whereas "the most recent copy of" does not.)

Let's end the sentence there, and thus boil out "when". "When" is almost always clutter, because it's a given that any action described happens at that point in the story.

"a look of gravity" is the same as "a grave look"...but "on his face" is clutter, because one doesn't wear a look anywhere else. And let's lose the emdash in favor of a comma.

The "always" statement in the second paragraph is a "tell", and we already have a scene full of "show" that Phillip isn't bent out of shape by his valet's gravity. We don't want to take the good job of showing and bash it down with an unnecessary tell—so out it boils.

The lack of concern is evident, as is the drawl, in the blase irony of his statement. The words carry both sentiments without our having to state them, so lets boil them out.

We can then combine these two paragraphs.

"The Earl" is Phillip, so let's call him that.

We already know he's reading the Gazette, so we can boil out "from his paper".

The dialogue needs a comma.

Phillip Charles Phelps-Morton, Fourth Earl of Kensington, sprawled across a leather chair, one leg over an arm, reading The London Gazette. His valet walked into the bedchamber, face grave. Phillip glanced up. “My dear Bertram, is something the matter?”

“Nothing that can’t be solved rather easily,” replied the valet, heading straight for his master’s wardrobe. “Have you looked at the clock recently, my lord?”

Dialogue tags are easy to overuse, and in conversations of only two people they're almost never necessary.

We know his name is Bertram, so there's no reason to continue calling him "the valet".

"heading straight for" = "walked to", but even that's more than we need.

"his master's" can boil out for two reasons: first, we already know it's Phillip's bedroom, and second, we already know Phillip is his Earl.

There's nothing wrong with the adverbs in the dialogue, per se, but almost every chunk of dialogue here has at least one adverb in it. And while we might talk that way, it's cumbersome to read. To that end, let's boil out "rather easily" and "recently".

“Nothing that can’t be solved.” Bertram opened the wardrobe. “Have you looked at the clock, my lord?”

“I’m sorry but I haven’t had the time,” joked the Earl.

We know it's a joke, and the Earl is the only other person in the conversation, so boil out the attribution altogether. (I also added a comma.)

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t had the time.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, sir, but unappreciated at the moment; have you really no idea what time it is?”

We can boil out either "ha-ha" or "very funny", "at the moment".

Let's change the semicolon to a period. The sentence after it reads odd to me, but it seems to fit the diction of a British valet (in my rather ignorant opinion on the topic of how a British valet does/should sound), so let's leave it in.

“Very funny, sir, but unappreciated. Have you really no idea what time it is?”

Deciding to wax philosophical, Phillip leaned his head back against the chair and said, “What is time really?”

We can always boil out cases where we state what someone does, then have them do it (or vice-versa).

"against the chair" isn't needed, as we know he's sitting in it.

Lose the speech attribution, and keep the "really" here because it's a deliberate echo of Bertram's previous dialogue, but I did add a comma.

Phillip leaned his head back. “What is time, really?”

Being of a more pragmatic bent, the valet replied, “I believe in this instance it signifies that hour of the day when you’re to get dressed for the evening.”

“Not one for thinking too deeply about things, are you, Bertram.”

“I’m thinking it’s getting awfully late if you wish to be ready on time.”

Bertram's pragmatism is inferable from the rest of the scene, and besides, a pragmatic valet follows the trope well enough that it doesn't need saying.

We can boil out a few words here and still keep Bertram's stuffy tone: "I believe", "signifies", "that hour of the day" can all go.

The next two lines can be replaced with a clause in Bertram's first line here.

“In this instance it's when you’re to get dressed if you're to be on time this evening.”

Phillip sat up straight in the chair. “But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I don’t care if I’m on time or not. In fact, I’m not sure I even want to go out this evening at all. I can’t tell you how bored I am with this endless circle of parties and routs. It’s always so predictable—never any variation! And always the same people saying and doing it.”

We know he's in a chair.

The next six lines of dialogue come close to saying the same thing over and over again. We could boil them down in near-infinite ways, most of which amount to taste, so I'm going to use my editor cudgel and boil as I see fit.

Phillip sat up straight. “But I don’t care if I’m on time. I’m not sure I even want to go out. These endless parties and routs are so predictable, the same people saying and doing the same things.”

The valet backed out of the wardrobe. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“All you need to know is that I’m bored.”

"The valet" = "Bertram".

"All you need to know is that"...could be argued to be clutter, but we might make the argument that it characterizes Phillip as bossy and elitist. This is one of those cases where, were this an edit for real and not my blog, I'd have to talk the change over with the author to see what was meant. But as it's my blog and not an edit for real, I'm going to instead assume that what the author meant to portray here is malaise and not elitism.

Bertram backed out of the wardrobe. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?”

“I’m bored.”

“Oh, is that it? Well, what say we enliven things a bit by putting on your waistcoat?” The valet waved a garment at the Earl.

We can again keep Bertram's stuffy tone while boiling out a few things: "is that it", "Well", and "a bit".

"The valet" = "Bertram", and "the Earl." = "him."

“Oh? What say we enliven things by putting on your waistcoat?” Bertram waved a garment at him.

Sighing heavily, Phillip stood up. “And seeing that it’s the black satin—again—is it any wonder I’m bored?”

We can boil out the adverb, and the "up".

The first half of the sentence can boil down a bit, and can lose the "again", as it's implied by the "the" in "the black satin".

Sighing, Phillip stood. “The black satin. Is it any wonder I’m bored?”

“Yes, a black satin waistcoat is very tiresome, but perfectly suited for the evening’s festivities.” The valet pulled the garment over the Earl’s shoulders and buttoned up the front. Then, retrieving a small velvet-lined box he held it out and said, “Now which set of cuff links would you prefer?”

We know it's a black satin waistcoat.

"perfectly" can boil out.

"The valet" = Bertram, "the Earl's" = "Phillip's".

"Then" is clutter. As it's the next sentence, sequentiality is implied.

As "retrieving" is so vague so as to not convey any envisionable information, we can leave it implied.

Again we can remove the speech attribution.

We know cufflinks (one word) come in sets.

Both characters know the box contains cufflinks, so there's no reason for Bertram to say it.

 “Yes, very tiresome, but suited for the evening’s festivities.” Bertram pulled the garment over Phillip's shoulders and buttoned up the front. He held out a small velvet-lined box. “Sir?”

“Oh, I suppose those will do,” he said, pointing indifferently at a pair of gold ones.

Now's the time to mention that they're cufflinks, subsumed into the action.

Let's get rid of the unintentional rhyme by boiling out, "I suppose".

Boil out the speech attribution and the adverb.

“Oh, those will do.” He pointed at a pair of gold cufflinks.

Bertram didn’t say a word—he merely shuddered.

There is almost never a reason to state that a character didn't do something. And boil out the adverb.

Bertram shuddered.

Amused, Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but apparently you don’t think they’ll do.”

It's clear he's amused, so boil it out.

Boil out the adverb, and "they'll do" = "so."

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but you don’t think so.”

“Oh, no, sir, they’re an excellent choice,” murmured the valet, politely. “If one were dining at home, alone, with only a kitchen maid for company.”

Bertram is the valet, and the sentence is polite on its face, so we don't need to say so.

"alone" and "with only a kitchen maid" contradict each other.

“Oh, no, sir, they’re an excellent choice,” Bertram murmured. “If one were dining at home with only a kitchen maid for company.”

“I did say I wanted to stay in for the evening,” dead-panned the Earl.

"did say" = "said", except that here I think the extra emphasis is a good thing, so we'll spare it.

We know it's "for the evening", and it's a dead-pan as written, so we don't need to say so.

“I did say I wanted to stay in.”

“And if you were I’d let you wear the gold ones but since you aren’t might I suggest these?” The valet removed a ruby-studded link from the box.

Most of the first sentence can boil out, unless it's critical that the reader know that Bertram, while the valet, feels that he has the power to dictate to an Earl what he can and can't wear. (This is another "talk to the author" moment).

"The valet" is Bertram, and as we know the cufflinks are in the box, we can boil that down.

“And since you aren’t might I suggest these?” Bertram held up a ruby-studded link.

The Result:

Phillip Charles Phelps-Morton, Fourth Earl of Kensington, sprawled across a leather chair, one leg over an arm, reading The London Gazette. His valet walked into the bedchamber, face grave. Phillip glanced up. “My dear Bertram, is something the matter?”  

“Nothing that can’t be solved.” Bertram opened the wardrobe. “Have you looked at the clock, my lord?” 

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t had the time.” 

“Very funny, sir, but unappreciated. Have you really no idea what time it is?” 

Phillip leaned his head back. “What is time, really?” 

“In this instance it's when you’re to get dressed if you're to be on time this evening.” 

Phillip sat up straight. “But I don’t care if I’m on time. I’m not sure I even want to go out. These endless parties and routs are so predictable, the same people saying and doing the same things.” 

Bertram backed out of the wardrobe. “I’m sorry, sir, what did you say?” 

“I’m bored.” 

“Oh? What say we enliven things by putting on your waistcoat?” Bertram waved a garment at him. 

Sighing, Phillip stood. “The black satin. Is it any wonder I’m bored?” 

“Yes, very tiresome, but suited for the evening’s festivities.” Bertram pulled the garment over Phillip's shoulders and buttoned up the front. He held out a small velvet-lined box. “Sir?” 

“Oh, those will do.” He pointed at a pair of gold cufflinks. 

Bertram shuddered. 

Phillip raised an eyebrow. “Ah, but you don’t think so.” 

“Oh, no, sir, they’re an excellent choice,” Bertram murmured. “If one were dining at home with only a kitchen maid for company.” 

“I did say I wanted to stay in.” 

“And since you aren’t might I suggest these?” Bertram held up a ruby-studded link. 

491 words boiled down to 283, a reduction of 42%. I believe I succeeded in keeping the tone not only in the individual sentences, but in the relationship between Phillip and Bertram. Do you agree?

Shhh.... Boiling a Librarian with Hillary Dodge

This week's guest is Hillary Dodge, The Horror Librarian. I met Hillary at BEA in New York City this past spring, and it's exciting as all get out to see a librarian focused on the horror genre. (We also ate some killer Italian food at a hole in the wall not too far from Penn Station.) She's offered up her first draft of Suffer the Little Children, a creepy short story, from which I've taken the first 501 words.

You can find Hillary's excellent blog here.

The Original:

I wake in the dark.

“Catherine,” he calls. 

“Yes?”  I turn over.  He is standing in the doorway, his dark form blocking the light from the moon.

“There’s something wrong.”  He says.

I sit up in a surge of panic.  Has it happened already?  I took the test before he’d let me go to bed.  Maybe the results were in.  Maybe he didn’t like what it said.

“What’s wrong?”  I ask slowly, fear putting an edge to my voice.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”  He steps into the room and takes my arm, helping me out of bed.  “Come on.”

He leads me out of the dark room and down the hall.  His house is vast and I feel small.  He takes me up the back stairs, the only ones that I am allowed to use, and leads me down another hall.  As we near the bathroom, I begin to shake.  He stops and turns me in the slivers of moonlight.  He looks at my face.

“Can you feel it?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer.  “I’m not sure.”

“You’ll see in a minute,” he promises. 

As we pass the bathroom, I feel a strange tingle of relief.  Maybe it isn’t what I think. But then he opens a door at the end of the hall and the panic returns.  We are going into his workshop. 

“You can see it best from up here.”  I don’t understand what his words mean.  Clearly it had happened, what I fear most, and now I was going into his workshop for the last time.

He pulls me into the rickety stairwell.  In former years, the attic had been the servants’ quarters.  He closes the door quietly behind us and leads the way up the stairs.  At the top, he pushes open the door that is always locked and takes me inside.  I have only been inside the workshop once on the night he first brought me here.  That was probably four years ago.  At the time, I hadn’t understood what the workshop meant.  I do now. 

He kept the room meticulously clean, every surface spotless and every corner well-lit.  There were two tall cabinets along the east wall.  These contain the tools.  In the center of the room beside a specially designed drain grill, is the long table. 

But he pulls me past the table and towards the small window set low on the wall.  I have to kneel down to look out.  He takes a few steps back.

“Keep looking,” he instructs.  “You’ll see it soon.”

I nod and watch.  I feel the seconds tick by.  Outside, the moonlight glitters in the fog that enshrouds the farm.  I don’t understand what he wants me to look for.  I wait, eyes scanning the trees at the edge of the forest. 

“Have you seen it yet?” he asks suddenly close behind me again.  I feel his breath on my neck.  It is hot but different somehow. 

I shake my head.  “Not yet.”

The Condensation:

I wake in the dark.

“Catherine,” he calls.

“Yes?”  I turn over.  He is standing in the doorway, his dark form blocking the light from the moon.

“There’s something wrong.”  He says.

Speech attributions are rarely necessary in a scene with only two people.

We can boil down the descriptive sentence by combining his location with the consequence of his standing there. Note that this follows the general principle that conjugations of "to be" should invite further scrutiny when it comes to boiling.

"light from the moon" = "moonlight".

I wake in the dark.

“Catherine.”

“Yes?” I turn over.  His dark form blocks the moonlight through the doorway.

“There’s something wrong.”


I sit up in a surge of panic.  Has it happened already?  I took the test before he’d let me go to bed.  Maybe the results were in.  Maybe he didn’t like what it said.

“What’s wrong?”  I ask slowly, fear putting an edge to my voice.

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”  He steps into the room and takes my arm, helping me out of bed.  “Come on.”

The rhetorical question isn't necessary here, because we already know she's afraid and anticipates something. The naked question doesn't give the reader any new information, so out it boils.

We can combine the maybes, because he could hardly dislike results that hadn't come in yet.

By moving the fear up, we put it front and center for the reader. Slowly is a Tom Swiftly adverb (see the Turkey City Lexicon), so out it boils. This allows the short, concise question to stand on its own, thus giving it more impact.

There's an echo here on "wrong", so I'm going to change "What's wrong?" to "What is it?"

I sit up in a surge of panic.  I took the test before he’d let me go to bed.  Maybe he didn’t like the results. Fear put an edge to my voice.

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”  He steps into the room and takes my arm, helping me out of bed.  “Come on.”


He leads me out of the dark room and down the hall.  His house is vast and I feel small.  He takes me up the back stairs, the only ones that I am allowed to use, and leads me down another hall.  As we near the bathroom, I begin to shake.  He stops and turns me in the slivers of moonlight.  He looks at my face.

We already know it's a dark room, and he can hardly lead her down the hall without leading her out, so we can leave this as implied.

It's only one word, but we can boil out the "and" by making the next sentence more active.

"I am" = "I'm". Judicious use of contractions help keeps prose from becoming stilted.

"Takes me" renders the second "leads me" boilable.

"Shake" is a little vague, so let's change it to "tremble". "I begin" is in the same category as "started to"--unless it's important that the action is interrupted, it's clutter.

As a side note, there are a lot of indications here of utter subservience and domination without saying it outright, which is well done. (I've read the rest of the story, and it's important!)

He leads me down the hall.  I feel small in his vast house.  He takes me up the back stairs, the only ones that I'm allowed to use, and down another hall.  I tremble as we near the bathroom.  He stops and turns me in the slivers of moonlight.  He looks at my face.


“Can you feel it?” he asks.

I don’t know how to answer.  “I’m not sure.”

“You’ll see in a minute,” he promises. 

Boil out the speech attributions, and avoid telling the reader what doesn't happen.

“Can you feel it?”

I hesitate.  “I’m not sure.”

“You’ll see in a minute.” 


As we pass the bathroom, I feel a strange tingle of relief.  Maybe it isn’t what I think. But then he opens a door at the end of the hall and the panic returns.  We are going into his workshop. 

"I feel" is a strong indication that you're showing instead of telling, and while sometimes that's fine, in general it makes prose more dynamic if you avoid tells.

"But then" is clutter--sequentiality is implied.

"The panic returns" is a tell as well. It's not bad, but perhaps we could change it to a show.

We already know they're going, and by making the final sentence as short as possible you reinforce the importance of it.

My skin tingles in relief as we pass the bathroom.  Maybe it isn’t what I think. He opens a door at the end of the hall and my throat tightens.  His workshop. 


“You can see it best from up here.”  I don’t understand what his words mean.  Clearly it had happened, what I fear most, and now I was going into his workshop for the last time.

"what his words mean" is clutter, as is "clearly" and "now".

"going into" = "entering"

“You can see it best from up here.”  I don’t understand.  It had happened, what I fear most, and I was entering his workshop for the last time.


He pulls me into the rickety stairwell.  In former years, the attic had been the servants’ quarters.  He closes the door quietly behind us and leads the way up the stairs.  At the top, he pushes open the door that is always locked and takes me inside.  I have only been inside the workshop once on the night he first brought me here.  That was probably four years ago.  At the time, I hadn’t understood what the workshop meant.  I do now. 

The adverb "quietly" can go--if it's important that it's quiet, change the rather bland "closes" to something that emphasizes the quiet. "He eases the door closed" or simply, "He shuts the door".

"leads the way up the stairs" = "leads me upstairs".

"that is" = "that's", and "and takes me inside" is clutter.

"I have" = "I've", and we can combine these next two sentences.

We can boil out the first "the workshop" to avoid the echo.

"I do now" is redundant with "At the time".

He pulls me into the rickety stairwell.  In former years, the attic had been the servants’ quarters.  He shuts the door behind us and leads me upstairs.  At the top, he pushes open the door that's always locked.  I've only been inside once, on that first night maybe four years ago.  At the time, I hadn’t understood what the workshop meant. 


He kept the room meticulously clean, every surface spotless and every corner well-lit.  There were two tall cabinets along the east wall.  These contain the tools.  In the center of the room beside a specially designed drain grill, is the long table. 

But he pulls me past the table and towards the small window set low on the wall.  I have to kneel down to look out.  He takes a few steps back.

“Keep looking,” he instructs.  “You’ll see it soon.”

Boil out the adverb, and as corners are made of surfaces, we can boil that out, too. On a re-read, we can boil out "the room clean" as well.

"There were" and "these contain" are clutter. "The tools" gives them a creepier vibe that "his tools" or just "tools" doesn't, so despite it just being a simple "the", it's importance in ambiance keeps it in.

Boil out "is" by choosing a better verb. "specially designed" = "custom", and while these changes only boiled out two words, I hope you'll agree that they make the sentence more engaging.

In the next paragraph, "the table" is clutter.

Oddly enough, "towards", "backwards", and so forth bug the crap out of some people, while "toward" and "backward" do not. Both are technically correct, so pick the one that doesn't annoy some people...only in this case, he doesn't just pull her toward it, he pulls her to it.

"have to" is clutter, as is "down". (One never kneels up!)

By putting his action (from which "take a few" is clutter)

He kept every surface spotless and well-lit.  Two tall cabinets along the east wall held the tools.  The long table dominated the center of the room beside a custom drain grill. 

But he pulls me past, to the small window set low on the wall.  I kneel to look out. 

He steps back. “Keep looking. You’ll see it soon.”


I nod and watch.  I feel the seconds tick by.  Outside, the moonlight glitters in the fog that enshrouds the farm.  I don’t understand what he wants me to look for.  I wait, eyes scanning the trees at the edge of the forest. 

"and watch" is redundant with scanning the trees.

"I feel" is clutter, as is almost every statement that time passes. The fact that she has time to mentally comment on the fog and moonlight tells us that time ticks by.

Of course fog happens outside, and "that enshrouds" = "enshrouding".

In the next sentence, we can boil out "he wants me to" if we change "understand" to "know".

She's not waiting, she's scanning, so "I wait" should boil out.

"eyes" is clutter.

Forests are made of trees, so we can boil that out, too.

I nod.  Moonlight glitters in the fog enshrouding the farm.  I don’t know what to look for.  I scan the edge of the forest.


“Have you seen it yet?” he asks suddenly close behind me again.  I feel his breath on my neck.  It is hot but different somehow.

I shake my head.  “Not yet.”

He has to be close behind her again if she can feel his breath on her neck, "I feel" is clutter, and by boiling it out we can combine this sentence with the next.

On a side note, reading the rest of the story, we never get any indication of why his breath would be somehow different, or what that even means. As such, I believe it serves as a distraction. So I'm going to invoke blogger's prerogative and break my own rules by cutting it, even though I pledge to leave content alone. This is one of those situations where, were I doing a real edit for publication, I'd have a discussion with the author about the intent of the phrase, and whether it should be expanded upon or eliminated.

“Have you seen it yet?” His breath warms my neck. 

I shake my head.  “Not yet.”

The Result:

I wake in the dark. 

“Catherine.” 

“Yes?” I turn over.  His dark form blocks the moonlight through the doorway. 

“There’s something wrong.” 

I sit up in a surge of panic.  I took the test before he’d let me go to bed.  Maybe he didn’t like the results. Fear put an edge to my voice. “What is it?” 

“You’ll have to see for yourself.”  He steps into the room and takes my arm, helping me out of bed.  “Come on.” 

He leads me down the hall.  I feel small in his vast house.  He takes me up the back stairs, the only ones that I'm allowed to use, and down another hall.  I tremble as we near the bathroom.  He stops and turns me in the slivers of moonlight.  He looks at my face. 

“Can you feel it?” 

I hesitate.  “I’m not sure.” 

“You’ll see in a minute.”   

My skin tingles in relief as we pass the bathroom.  Maybe it isn’t what I think. He opens a door at the end of the hall and my throat tightens.  His workshop.  

“You can see it best from up here.”  I don’t understand.  It had happened, what I fear most, and I was entering his workshop for the last time. 

He pulls me into the rickety stairwell.  In former years, the attic had been the servants’ quarters.  He shuts the door behind us and leads me upstairs.  At the top, he pushes open the door that's always locked.  I've only been inside once, on that first night maybe four years ago.  At the time, I hadn’t understood what the workshop meant.  

He kept every surface spotless and well-lit.  Two tall cabinets along the east wall held the tools.  The long table dominated the center of the room beside a custom drain grill.  

But he pulls me past, to the small window set low on the wall.  I kneel to look out.  

He steps back. “Keep looking. You’ll see it soon.” 

I nod.  Moonlight glitters in the fog enshrouding the farm.  I don’t know what to look for.  I scan the edge of the forest.  

“Have you seen it yet?” His breath warms my neck.  

I shake my head.  “Not yet.”

So, 367 words down from 501, a 27% boiling. What do you think?

Soup from a Student with Ben Case

Ben Case is a former physics student of mine who's now venturing into writing in the fantasy/science fiction genres. He's offered up 503 words of his short story, Grym, for us to boil down.

The Original:

Hours dragged by and the day's sun was beginning to set. Chief Garuun had shown off his son in front of all the Hunters in the Black Sun camp. Many admonished how strong he was and shared the belief that he would become a strong and mighty warrior, like his fathers before him.

The mammoth was roasted up along with other savory meats that had been prepared by the tribeswomen. Naalah looked as though most of her strength had returned, as she was dressed and present at her mates side at the feast.

Bloodwine flowed out of the drinking horns almost as soon as it was poured. Some of the hunters beat their war drums to make music for the celebration. Dancers spun around each other in front of the bonfire. They danced for the son of the Chief.

Garuun and Naalah kissed, his mate biting down viciously on his lower lip, and drawing black blood, which only enticed the Chieftain for more. The small family was overjoyed and in the best of spirits, until the celebration was interrupted.

A scream coming from a female member of the tribe. The music and dancing cut out as the celebration came to a hault. The red skinned Orc came stumbling forward, she was holding her stomach which was bleeding with an arrow protruding from her abdomen. She stumbled to the center of the crowd of Orcs who made way for. The female uttered something incomprehensible and looked around hysterically. She looked up at Chief Garuun who bolted upright from his seat.

The female collapsed on her side and faded away into death's grip, her violet eyes glassing over as her last breath escaped her. Another loud roar came from within the crowd. It was the females mate. He picked up her limp body and tapped her cold cheek with his palm to wake her. Nothing happened. Her mate began to shake her crazily, still nothing happened. He gave up and buried his face in the females stomach. He yanked the arrow out and wiped away the black blood to expose a silver point. Steel. He turned to Garuun, held up the weapon and let out a blood curdling scream. Steel was used by Humans over the Reach. This was a deliberate attack against the tribe.

More arrows began to fall out of the sky. Orcs fled for shelter and weapons. Garuun was struck in the shoulder with a steel arrow. The chieftain pulled it out and snapped it between his fingers, a small trickle of blood running down his arm. He used his body as a shield to allow Naalah and the child to run.

The three of them made it back to their long tent. Garuun went into his battle chest and quickly threw on his light armor and picked up his axes. He got his tiger saddled and placed Naalah in the seat. The Mistress had her child in a sling across her chest. Garuun looked up one last time at his mate.

The Condensation:

Hours dragged by and the day's sun was beginning to set. Chief Garuun had displayed his son to the Hunters in the Black Sun camp. Many admonished how strong he was and shared the belief that he would become a strong and mighty warrior, like his fathers before him.

The first sentence can combine with the second. My usual objection to "beginning to" applies here--unless it's important that the action in question is interrupted, the fact that it began is no more informative than the fact that it's happening.

"had shown off" = "displayed", "in front of all" = "to"...and "Hunters" shouldn't be capitalized. (Unless it's a proper name for the group.)

I have to admonish you here, because you meant "admired", not "admonished".

"Many" = "They", "how strong he was" = "the boy's strength"...which is redundant with "strong and mighty". We should change "the belief" to "their belief", to better solidify that they are sharing this belief with the chief.

Finally, as we learn later that the members of the Black Sun camp aren't human, I think we need to say so right away.

As the sun set, Chief Garuun displayed his son to the orc hunters in the Black Sun camp. They admired the boy's strength and shared their belief that he would become a mighty warrior like his fathers before him.

The mammoth was roasted up along with other savory meats that had been prepared by the tribeswomen. Naalah looked as though most of her strength had returned, as she was dressed and present at her mates side at the feast.

"was roasted" fails the "by zombies" test for passive voice--put the actors first, before the action.

"up" is clutter.

"along with" = "and", and unless for some reason it's sugared, all meat is savory.

We know (or can easily infer that) it's a feast, so "at the feast" is clutter. This sentence is a tell instead of a show, though, and we can fix that.

"mates" needs an apostrophe.

I'm going to add "dark red" here, so that I can remove the "red-skinned" from later, because the detail at that point detracts from the action.

Tribeswomen roasted mammoth and other meats. Dressed and present at her mate's side, Naalah's dark red skin had regained some of its color.

Bloodwine flowed out of the drinking horns almost as soon as it was poured. Some of the hunters beat their war drums to make music for the celebration. Dancers spun around each other in front of the bonfire. They danced for the son of the Chief.

"out of the" = "from", "almost" is clutter, and for that matter, "as soon as it was poured" is redundant because we've already got a great verb, "flowed", to describe the action.

"Some of the hunters" = "Hunters" (as we can assume the "some"), "their" is clutter, and "to make music for the" = "in".

We can combine the last two sentences with the one before them.

"the son of the Chief" = "his son", because we're in Garuun's POV.

Bloodwine flowed from drinking horns. Hunters beat war drums and dancers spun in front of the bonfire in celebration of his son.

Garuun and Naalah kissed, his mate biting down viciously on his lower lip, and drawing black blood, which only enticed the Chieftain for more. The small family was overjoyed and in the best of spirits, until the celebration was interrupted.

The first clause can be made more active. "viciously", aside from being an adverb (Boo! Hiss!), is redundant with "drawing black blood".

"down on" is clutter, as is "only".

"the Chieftain" = "him"

"enticed him for more" = "stoking his desire" (or something like that...I originally went with "arousing him", but that's a bit more explicit).

The second sentence here is both a tell and utterly redundant with the rest of the piece. We don't need to tell the reader what they already know from the action.

At this point I see no reason not to combine this sentence with the paragraph above, which we'll do in the final edit.

Naalah kissed him, biting his lower lip and drawing black blood, stoking his desire.

A scream coming from a female member of the tribe. The music and dancing cut out as the celebration came to a hault. The red skinned Orc came stumbling forward, she was holding her stomach which was bleeding with an arrow protruding from her abdomen. She stumbled to the center of the crowd of Orcs who made way for. The female uttered something incomprehensible and looked around hysterically. She looked up at Chief Garuun who bolted upright from his seat.

The first sentence is a sudden action, so it should be sudden prose.

The music and dancing are the celebration, so we can pick one or at most two of those words and rewrite the second sentence with it. "came to a hault[sic]" = "died".

While we're at it, let's combine that short sentence with the one after it, where:

"The red skinned Orc" = "she",

"came stumbling forward" = "stumbled forward",

"she was holding" = "clutching"

And we can move "bleeding" forward to boil out the last clause.

We have an echo on "stumbled", but the sentence (which ends abruptly and ungrammatically) is redundant enough with the one before it that we can eliminate it altogether.

"The female" = "she", "something incomprehensible" = "gibberish". To eliminate the adverb "hysterically" and the echo on "looked", we can combine the next two sentences, then spin off Garuun's action into its own paragraph where it belongs.

A tribeswoman screamed. The celebration died as she stumbled forward, clutching her bleeding stomach and the arrow protruding from it. She uttered gibberish and beseeched Garuun, eyes mad with pain.

Garuun bolted from his seat.

The female collapsed on her side and faded away into death's grip, her violet eyes glassing over as her last breath escaped her. Another loud roar came from within the crowd. It was the females mate. He picked up her limp body and tapped her cold cheek with his palm to wake her. Nothing happened. Her mate began to shake her crazily, still nothing happened. He gave up and buried his face in the females stomach. He yanked the arrow out and wiped away the black blood to expose a silver point. Steel. He turned to Garuun, held up the weapon and let out a blood curdling scream. Steel was used by Humans over the Reach. This was a deliberate attack against the tribe.

The first sentence combines a show with a redunant tell. As do the next two. Let's make them one!

I don't know how one taps with a palm, so I changed that to "patted". "to wake her" is redundant.

It's rare that an author should tell the reader what didn't happen, as opposed to what did. To that effect, we can boil out both "nothing happened"s.

"Her mate" = "he".

"began to" is clutter, as he isn't interrupted.

"crazily" is clutter.

The action in this paragraph doesn't make sense. The arrow is protruding from her stomach, so he can't bury his head there without it being in the way. Thus, I'm changing stomach to "breast". This has the advantage of putting him in a great position to wrest out the arrow--which should happen in its own paragraph.

Steel isn't silver, and the fact that it's steel can be emphasized by breaking the echo rule and using the word twice in close succession.

Let's combine the actions of turning and holding up the weapon.

At this point, the information that the humans (which should not be capitalized) are over the Reach interferes with the narrative--there will be a better place for it somewhere else in the story. That it's a deliberate attack is redundant with what happens next.

Her mate roared as she collapsed, her violet eyes glassing over as her last breath escaped her. He picked up her limp body and patted her cold cheek with his palm. He shook her, then gave up and buried his face in her breast.

He yanked the arrow out and wiped away the black blood to expose a steel point. Steel. He held it up to Garuun and let out a blood curdling scream. Humans.

More arrows began to fall out of the sky. Orcs fled for shelter and weapons. Garuun was struck in the shoulder with a steel arrow. The chieftain pulled it out and snapped it between his fingers, a small trickle of blood running down his arm. He used his body as a shield to allow Naalah and the child to run.

"More" and "began to" are clutter, and "fall out of the sky" = "fell."

"was struck in the shoulder" fails the "by zombies" test, and while he can guess it's got a steel head, he wouldn't have time to know that for sure while it's burying itself in his shoulder.

"The chieftain" = "he", because we haven't left his POV (as we shouldn't in a single scene)...and while there's nothing wrong with "pulled", I think we can pick a verb that's more active (in the pizzazz sense, not the grammatical sense). Trickles are small, and the phrase can boil down by making it more active (in the grammatical sense).

The last sentence doesn't work with the one that starts the next paragraph. He didn't just shield them, he ran with them.

Arrows fell. Orcs fled for shelter and weapons. An arrow struck Garuun in the shoulder. He jerked it out and snapped it between his fingers, blood trickling down his arm. He shielded Naalah and their child with his body as they ran.

The three of them made it back to their long tent. Garuun went into his battle chest and quickly threw on his light armor and picked up his axes. He got his tiger saddled and placed Naalah in the seat. The Mistress had her child in a sling across her chest. Garuun looked up one last time at his mate.

So now "The three of them" = "They.

This is one of those cases where I'm going to advocate adding some words. "Light armor" doesn't mean anything in this context--it could be most anything, and gives the reader nothing whatsoever to go on. I'm going to guess that it's leathers and furs, but of course this is something that would be discussed with the author were I editing for the author instead of boiling as an exercise.

"went into" = "opened", "quickly threw on" = "pulled on"

"got his tiger saddled" fails the "by zombie" test, and is the tiger really in their tent?

Combining these sentences will boil out a few more words.

"one last time" is a POV glitch, sometimes called "author intrusion". Unless he's psychic, he can't know that it's the last time. ...and instead of using something kind of bland like "looked up at", we can boil things down by using something punchier.

They made it back to their long tent. Garuun opened his battle chest, pulled on his leather and fur armor, and picked up his axes. Outside, he saddled his tiger and placed Naalah in the seat, their child in a sling across her chest. They locked eyes.

The Result:

In the final read, I think that Garuun bolting from his seat belongs with the woman screaming, at the cost of an added "as". The line about meat belongs in the paragraph about wine and celebration.

As the sun set, Chief Garuun displayed his son to the orc hunters in the Black Sun camp. They admired the boy's strength and shared their belief that he would become a mighty warrior like his fathers before him. Dressed and present at her mate's side, Naalah's dark red skin had regained some of its color.  

Tribeswomen roasted mammoth and other meats. Bloodwine flowed from drinking horns. Hunters beat war drums and dancers spun in front of the bonfire in celebration of his son. Naalah kissed him, biting his lower lip and drawing black blood, stoking his desire. 

He bolted from his seat as a tribeswoman screamed. The celebration died as she stumbled forward, clutching her bleeding stomach and the arrow protruding from it. She uttered gibberish and beseeched Garuun, eyes mad with pain. 

Her mate roared as she collapsed, her violet eyes glassing over as her last breath escaped her. He picked up her limp body and patted her cold cheek with his palm. He shook her, then gave up and buried his face in her breast. 

He yanked the arrow out and wiped away the black blood to expose a steel point. Steel. He held it up to Garuun and let out a blood curdling scream. Humans. 

Arrows fell. Orcs fled for shelter and weapons. An arrow struck Garuun in the shoulder. He jerked it out and snapped it between his fingers, blood trickling down his arm. He shielded Naalah and their child with his body as they ran. 

They made it back to their long tent. Garuun opened his battle chest, pulled on his leather and fur armor, and picked up his axes. Outside, he saddled his tiger and placed Naalah in the seat, their child in a sling across her chest. They locked eyes.

298 words from 503 is a 40.7% reduction, though there is the slight cheat of omitting the Reach. Other than that, how'd I do?