Boiling a Delusion

As Word Soup celebrates its 5000th unique hit, most of which came since February, we're going to soldier on doing what we're doing. Thanks so much for the interest you've shown, everyone!

Larry Crossett is yet another friend from the ABNA forums, and he's brought us a sample from his thriller, NIGHTMARE DELUSION. Let's see what we can do with it!

The Original:

Dawn Taylor pushed a wheeled aluminum ice cart along the brightly lit west corridor of Lincoln's Manor Convalescent Center.  At each numbered door along the way she knocked perfunctorily, then stepped in and gathered two plastic ice-water pitchers, one off each of the hospital-style bedside tables.  She wore white slacks and a pale blue top, her long dark hair tied back with a rubber band, but for a few errant strands.

Usually the pitchers were still full from yesterday.  Regardless, she would empty them into the bathroom sink and bring them out to scoop in fresh ice before refilling them with water.

This was the easiest chore of her day, but Dawn didn't like it.  Nearly every room she entered had a resident or two in need of something: turning over in bed, help from wheelchair to toilet, a tissue they couldn't reach….  Seldom was anyone crying out for fresh ice in his or her water pitcher.  But while she wore these little vinyl gloves, Public Health said she couldn't do anything but pass the ice.  She needed to stay sanitary.

She was searching room 63 for Montgomery Josephson's missing water pitcher lid, the resident slumped over asleep in his wheelchair, when she heard the page: "Dawn, come to the desk, please."

The nursing home's intercom system was used freely.  That particular page came a dozen times a day, when the nurse wanted her to take a temperature or help transfer a resident.  During the ice pass, though, they would call another CNA for such chores.  Dawn was apprehensive as she walked the fifty feet to the nurses' station.

"Your mother, Dawn," one of the nurses told her.  "Line two."

Personal calls to employees were frowned upon, but when they came in they were allowed.  Dawn's mother did not hesitate to call if she needed something from the grocery store, or wanted to vent about an undeserved charge on a medical bill.  Dawn could not discourage her.

Today's call, however, was neither of those.  She knew that before she picked up the receiver.

"Dawn, we did it," her mother announced.  "Eric is coming home!"

Shit.  "That's great, Mom."

"It was the way he handled himself at the hearing.  He spoke right up, looking those people in the eye."

"I know, you told me about it."

"He's coming home next Wednesday, Dawn.  He just called."

"Okay, that's fine.  I—"

"You'll have to go get him.  One o'clock, they said."

"All right, Mom.  I know.  I'll be there."

"This is so wonderful.  I've prayed for this."

"Yeah, Ma, it is.  I'm happy for you.  I've got to go.  I've got someone on the pot."

The Condensation:

Dawn Taylor pushed a wheeled aluminum ice cart along the brightly lit west corridor of Lincoln's Manor Convalescent Center.  At each numbered door along the way she knocked perfunctorily, then stepped in and gathered two plastic ice-water pitchers, one off each of the hospital-style bedside tables.  She wore white slacks and a pale blue top, her long dark hair tied back with a rubber band, but for a few errant strands.

Carts have wheels, but instead of changing "a" to "an" we can make it more familiar by using "the." Because she's stopping at "each" door, we don't need "along the way."

"Perfunctorily" isn't needed if we make the action perfunctory, and we can do so by boiling out "then".

The pitchers themselves are not "plastic ice-water," and that they contain (or will contain) ice water is obvious from the rest of the piece, so let's boil out "ice-water." Meantime, we can combine "two" with "each" to get "both." "Of the" can go without loss of content.

I don't know why, but I've never been a big fan of "wore" as a verb. It's not terribly descriptive, and it seems to me that we can get more content-per-word when we think of clever ways to eliminate it. As an example here (which is too forward because I haven't discussed it with the author, but I'm going to do it anyway because this is a blog post and not a proper edit), we could use the word to convey a variety of truths about her work environment as it pertains to her wardrobe: Does it make her invisible? Does it make her conspicuous? I'm going to go with "invisible," and combine this sentence with the last one to help it flow a little better.

Long hair that has been tied back is a pony tail.

Finally, I'm going to rearrange the order a little to facilitate a smoother transition into the next paragraph.

Dawn Taylor pushed the aluminum ice cart along the brightly lit west corridor of Lincoln's Manor Convalescent Center, a few errant strands writhing free from the rubber band holding her dark pony tail. Invisible in white slacks and a pale blue top, at each numbered door she knocked, stepped in, and gathered plastic pitchers from both hospital-style bedside tables.

Usually the pitchers were still full from yesterday.  Regardless, she would empty them into the bathroom sink and bring them out to scoop in fresh ice before refilling them with water.

We can combine the first sentence with the second, thereby combining "the pitchers" and "them" while eliminating "regardless." In this case "still" is clutter, and can be boiled out with no loss of content.

"She would" = "She'd."

We can boil out "and" in favor of a comma, take "to" along with it, and change "before" to "and"—the sequentiality is implied.

Usually full from yesterday, she'd empty the pitchers into the bathroom sink, bring them out, scoop in fresh ice, and refill them with water.

This was the easiest chore of her day, but Dawn didn't like it.  Nearly every room she entered had a resident or two in need of something: turning over in bed, help from wheelchair to toilet, a tissue they couldn't reach….  Seldom was anyone crying out for fresh ice in his or her water pitcher.  But while she wore these little vinyl gloves, Public Health said she couldn't do anything but pass the ice.  She needed to stay sanitary.

"Was" always invites further scrutiny. Sometimes we need a more active verb, other times we can just eliminate it by trimming a few words.

Entering the rooms has already been established, so we can boil down the next sentence by making the residents the subject. At the end of that sentence, "they couldn't reach" is implied by the fact that they need help with it.

"Was" again invites scrutiny, and while boiling it out we might as well take "his or her water pitcher" with it, as we already know this is where the ice goes. As for "fresh" ice, it doesn't spoil, so as long as it's still ice, it's "fresh," so let's boil that out.

We can combine the last two sentences by making the vinyl gloves stay sanitary.

Her easiest chore, she didn't like it. Residents always needed something: turning over in bed, help from wheelchair to toilet, a tissue….  Seldom would anyone cry out for ice. But Public Health said she couldn't do anything while passing ice because her vinyl gloves needed to stay sanitary.

She was searching room 63 for Montgomery Josephson's missing water pitcher lid, the resident slumped over asleep in his wheelchair, when she heard the page: "Dawn, come to the desk, please."

We can avoid the redundancy of Montgomery Josephson being the resident by starting the sentence with his position—where "slumped over asleep" is "slept"—or better yet "snoozed" because that has a slumpier feel to it. (Yes, I know, "slumpier" is not a word!)

The missing water pitcher lid can lose "missing" because otherwise she wouldn't have to search for it, and "water" because we already know what the pitchers are for.

"Heard," like all sensory verbs, aren't necessary in a single POV, so let's boil it out.

Montgomery Josephson, room 63, snoozed in his wheelchair. Dawn searched for the lid to his pitcher and a page chimed. "Dawn, come to the desk, please."

The nursing home's intercom system was used freely.  That particular page came a dozen times a day, when the nurse wanted her to take a temperature or help transfer a resident.  During the ice pass, though, they would call another CNA for such chores.  Dawn was apprehensive as she walked the fifty feet to the nurses' station.

The first sentence is utterly redundant with the second.

"That particular page" can lose "particular."

The third sentence can be replaced with "but not during the ice pass."

We can boil out the "was" by moving "apprehensive" to the beginning of the last sentence. "The fifty feet" can lose "the."

That page came a dozen times a day, when the nurse wanted her to take a temperature or help transfer a resident, but not during the ice pass. Apprehensive, Dawn walked fifty feet to the nurses' station.

"Your mother, Dawn," one of the nurses told her.  "Line two."

"One of the nurses" is "a nurse," and instead of a dialogue tag (told her), we can add a small action tag instead. Also, we can drop "Dawn," as people rarely use one another's names in direct address.

The nurse looked up. "Your mother. Line two."

Personal calls to employees were frowned upon, but when they came in they were allowed.  Dawn's mother did not hesitate to call if she needed something from the grocery store, or wanted to vent about an undeserved charge on a medical bill.  Dawn could not discourage her.

Today's call, however, was neither of those.  She knew that before she picked up the receiver.

The passive voice here is fine, as we're talking about a company policy, but "when they came in they were" is unnecessary. I'm somewhat inclined to boil out "to employees," but to make it absolutely clear that we're not talking about calls to/from residents I've decided to leave it in.

Lack of hesitation is conveyed through the list of trivialities, wherein we can boil "grocery" from "grocery store," "wanted" from "or wanted to," and "an undeserved charge on a medical bill" is an "undeserved medical charge."

"Could not" = "couldn't."

We can combine the last two sentences, and thus boil out a few words. As we know that phones have receivers, we can boil out "the receiver" from the end of the sentence.

Personal calls to employees were frowned upon but allowed.  Dawn's mother called if she needed something from the store, or to vent about an undeserved medial charge. Dawn couldn't discourage her.

She knew this was different before she picked up.

"Dawn, we did it," her mother announced.  "Eric is coming home!"

Shit.  "That's great, Mom."

"It was the way he handled himself at the hearing.  He spoke right up, looking those people in the eye."

"I know, you told me about it."

"He's coming home next Wednesday, Dawn.  He just called."

"Okay, that's fine.  I—"

"You'll have to go get him.  One o'clock, they said."

"All right, Mom.  I know.  I'll be there."

"This is so wonderful.  I've prayed for this."

"Yeah, Ma, it is.  I'm happy for you.  I've got to go.  I've got someone on the pot."

We can lose the speech tag from her mom's first announcement, the later proper names (Dawn and Ma, respectively), and other than that we can leave this alone. If the conversation went much further, I'd suggest adding some action—Dawn reacting physically to the news, or the nurse raising a nosy eyebrow, or what-have-you to break up the dialogue.

"Dawn, we did it. Eric is coming home!"

Shit. "That's great, Mom."

"It was the way he handled himself at the hearing. He spoke right up, looking those people in the eye."

"I know, you told me about it."

"He's coming home next Wednesday. He just called."

"Okay, that's fine. I—"

"You'll have to go get him. One o'clock, they said."

"All right, Mom. I know. I'll be there."

"This is so wonderful. I've prayed for this."

"Yeah, it is. I'm happy for you. I've got to go. I've got someone on the pot."

The Result:

Dawn Taylor pushed the aluminum ice cart along the brightly lit west corridor of Lincoln's Manor Convalescent Center, a few errant strands writhing free from the rubber band holding her dark pony tail. Invisible in white slacks and a pale blue top, at each numbered door she knocked, stepped in, and gathered plastic pitchers from both hospital-style bedside tables.

Usually full from yesterday, she'd empty the pitchers into the bathroom sink, bring them out, scoop in fresh ice, and refill them with water.

Her easiest chore, she didn't like it. Residents always needed something: turning over in bed, help from wheelchair to toilet, a tissue….  Seldom would anyone cry out for ice. But Public Health said she couldn't do anything while passing ice because her vinyl gloves needed to stay sanitary.

Montgomery Josephson, room 63, snoozed in his wheelchair. Dawn searched for the lid to his pitcher and a page chimed. "Dawn, come to the desk, please."

That page came a dozen times a day, when the nurse wanted her to take a temperature or help transfer a resident, but not during the ice pass. Apprehensive, Dawn walked fifty feet to the nurses' station.

The nurse looked up. "Your mother. Line two."

Personal calls to employees were frowned upon but allowed.  Dawn's mother called if she needed something from the store, or to vent about an undeserved medial charge. Dawn couldn't discourage her.

She knew this was different before she picked up.

"Dawn, we did it. Eric is coming home!"

Shit. "That's great, Mom."

"It was the way he handled himself at the hearing. He spoke right up, looking those people in the eye."

"I know, you told me about it."

"He's coming home next Wednesday. He just called."

"Okay, that's fine. I—"

"You'll have to go get him. One o'clock, they said."

"All right, Mom. I know. I'll be there."

"This is so wonderful. I've prayed for this."

"Yeah, it is. I'm happy for you. I've got to go. I've got someone on the pot."

That's 337 words, down from 443, a reduction of 24%. What do you think?