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You know that friend who says “literally” in every sentence? The one who “actually” can’t stop saying “actually”? Congrats—you might be that friend in your writing. 

Overused words are the junk food of prose: addictive, empty, and guaranteed to bloat your manuscript. But fear not! Let’s turn your bad habits into a game (with a side of shame). Enter: The Author’s Swear Jar.  

The Problem: Your Manuscript’s Secret Crutch Words 

We all have them—those sneaky words we lean on like a caffeine IV during a deadline. They slip into sentences, repeat like a broken record, and scream “amateur hour” to agents and readers. 

Top Offenders: 

– “Very”: “The dragon was very angry” → Yawn. Try “seething” or “apoplectic.” 

– “Just”: “She just wanted to leave” → Delete it. Now. 

– “Suddenly”: “Suddenly, the door exploded!” → Let the action speak for itself. 

– “Really”: “He was really tired” → “He resembled a zombie who’d marathon-watched The Office.” 

– “Began/Started”: “She began to run” → “She bolted.”

The Cure: How the ‘Swear Jar’ Works 

1. Download a “Crutch Word Hit List” 

   Tools like ProWritingAid or AutoCrit will scan your manuscript and flag overused offenders. Print the list. Tape it to your monitor. Embrace the shame. 

2. Assign Fines 

   Every time you spot a crutch word, drop a dollar (or a coffee pod, if you’re broke) into a jar. Pro tip: Use a clear jar for maximum guilt. 

3. Reward Your Progress 

   Empty the jar monthly and treat yourself to something not related to writing (wine, hockey tickets, a nap). 

How to Fix Your Verbal Tics (Without Quitting Writing) 

1. The Synonym Shuffle 

   Use Power Thesaurus to swap generic words for vivid ones. 

   – “He walked slowly” → “He lumbered/lurched/meandered.” 

2. Murder Your Darlings 

   If the word doesn’t add meaning, delete it. “She whispered quietly” → “She whispered.” (Where else would she whisper? Beside a jet engine?) 

3. Read It Aloud 

   Your ears will catch repetitions your eyes glaze over. Bonus: Neighbors will think you’re rehearsing for a one-person play. 

4. Embrace Silence 

   Not every sentence needs an adverb. “He yelled angrily” → “He slammed his fist on the table.”

When All Else Fails: Hire a Hitman (Editor) 

Sometimes you need a mercenary. A good editor will: 

—Circle your crutch words in red pen (like a vengeful grammar god). 

—Force you to justify every “very” and “really.” 

—Charge you $50/hour to do what the swear jar does for free.

Your Homework 

1. Dig up an old chapter. 

2. Search for “very.” Replace it 90% of the time. 

3. Marvel at how much sharper your writing feels..

My Final Thoughts: Your crutch words are like hockey penalties—they happen, but too many and you’ll spend the game in the sin bin. Clean up your prose, and your readers (and word count) will thank you.

Personally, my issues aren’t with words at all. Instead, I’m guilty of overusing em dashes and ellipses. So what are your crutch words? Sound off in the comments below!

Hey friends, 

Today’s my birthday! And much like a plot twist in one of my novels, I’ve somehow aged another year without fully understanding how any of this works. To celebrate, I’m doing what any self-respecting writer would do: avoiding mirrors, embracing stretchy pants, and gently reminding you that I have books for sale. 

In case you’ve ever wondered, “What do I get the person who has written the entire gamut of book genres but still can’t small-talk at parties?” — I come bearing answers! You can check out my Amazon Author page (http://amazon.com/author/juliegrayson) or my Smashwords profile https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JulieGrayson (aka “the places where my books live rent-free”). Follow me, pretty please? It’s like a birthday gift to me, but you get to keep the book. Win-win! 

Why should you care? 

• My characters are way more put-together than I am. 

• Buying a book = supporting my gambling habit. (It’s a noble cause.) 

• Birthday guilt-tripping expires at midnight. Probably. 

If you’re feeling extra generous, grab a paperback, ebook, or even just stare lovingly at the covers. No pressure, but imagine how fun it’ll be to say, “I knew Julie back when she still thought ‘adulting’ was a verb.” 

Thanks for tolerating my annual “hey, it’s my birthday AND HERE’S A LINK” post. You’re the reason I’m (mostly) functional. Now go forth, read something cheesy, and eat cake on my behalf. 

Self-deprecatingly yours, 

Julie 

P.S. If you’re wondering, “What’s the calorie count on a book?” — zero. But cake math is your problem today.