Why Say Lot Word When Few Word Do Trick?
Those timeless words from The Office’s Kevin Malone are today’s message of encouragement. Take them to heart, dear friends.
If you’ve been following along with anything I’ve written during my entire existence, you’ve probably noticed I use a lot of words. (Apology shoutout to anyone who ever received those 18-page letters from me as a child.)
This week I was challenged to take one of my previous posts and cut it in half.
Literally, in half. Who even does that? I didn’t think I could. But somehow, it happened.
I’m here today to walk you through my process to 1) show you that I’m trying to stop being so ridiculously verbose, and 2) maybe help someone else accomplish a similar task in the future. So! Without further ado, let’s begin.
Step One: Pick A Post
This was surprisingly difficult because I didn’t think any of them could be effectively condensed to half its size while maintaining the original message. (Pro tip: I guess everybody thinks that. I kind of had to get over myself.)
In the end, I decided to use this post. This was partially due to the fact that I could see visible fat that could be trimmed fairly easily, but also because (unbeknownst to me) my mom shared it on her Facebook page and it received a freakishly enthusiastic response (thanks, guys, I’m honored). The point is that I’ve had more people view that post than anything I’ve ever written, so I’ve got a good test audience to see how the two versions compare to each other.
I have no idea if that was a good idea or not, so if you’re reading this in hopes trimming down your own post, you should probably just ask a professional (or go with your gut).
Step Two: Summarize and Organize
Here I went through every paragraph in the post and wrote a short summary sentence directly below it. Afterward, I transferred it all into its own doc in a separate window so I could view both the full version as well as the summary version.
This condensed the information I was actually conveying in order to make it easier to pick out what didn’t fit or was out of order. Because it was a very story-centered post, I didn’t end up changing the order much, but it did help identify whole paragraphs that could be deleted as they were unrelated to the larger story.
I considered skipping this step because it felt unnecessary. However, I’m glad I did it. Even though I didn’t reorder the paragraphs, simply viewing a full page of one sentence summaries made me realize how long the full post really was. I would wholeheartedly recommend keeping this step in your own post-condensing endeavors!
Step Three: Slice and Dice
This was the worst. I would rather write a whole new post than try to make an existing one shorter. Even though I essentially was writing a new post, it’s ridiculously hard for my brain to un-see the original way I wrote something.
This was where I started to slightly regret choosing a post that other people had already seen and commented on. If there was a phrase that someone had pointed out as being especially funny or relatable, it was really hard for me to get rid of it. At this point, I was emotionally connected to my own sentences (which is ridiculous and a little freaky).
After the first round of trimming, I was down to 811 words. I thought that had to be more than half of the original post because at this point I felt like I had already taken everything out that was worth reading in the first place. Unfortunately, I discovered that the original post was 1185 words. I won’t make you do the math on this one. . . half of 1185 is significantly lower than 811. 592.5, to be exact.
So I went back, cut out five paragraphs that I’d been selfishly holding onto, cried softly to myself, and checked the word count: 615.
Eventually (after bringing it down once more and then back up), I landed on that magical number: 590. Two and a half words lower than half of the entire original post. Yikes.
So in the end, I survived. As for the post. . . I’ll let you be the judge of that! In case you missed it before, read the full version here. For the Sparknotes edition, keep scrolling.
Epilogue: Minnesota Tests Our Mettle (Round Two)
After a full day of arduous journeying, my family finally made it home—just in time for the hockey game.
Who, you may ask, plans their vacation around a hockey game?
We do.
This wasn’t just any hockey game, mind you. My dad’s team made it to the final round of the rec league’s playoffs, and we weren’t going to miss it.
Now, while we were away, Minnesota was bombarded with rain, ice, and snow in epic proportions. Because of all this problematic precipitation, the driveway entrance was covered with at least three feet of snow—rendering it completely impassable.
After unburying the snowblower, clearing a portion of the driveway, and getting the van stuck anyway, the family was eventually on its way to the rink. (They decided that the partially-collapsed portion of the ceiling could wait until after the game because, well, priorities.)
I, however, needed to drive separately. Thus ensued seven different trips across our snow-laden yard as I ran back and forth from my house to various vehicles, trying (unsuccessfully) to find one that worked.
A quick note: This was no minor feat as I am dramatically not in shape. Even when I am in shape, it’s not good running shape. Yet I was sprinting and leaping across drifts taller than my youngest sister (all while wearing sparkly Uggs because all the real snowboots had been taken) in a way that would make any track coach proud—or at least fairly amused.
Eventually, my brother tossed me a set of keys that worked, and I was off to the rink with my other brother in tow.
After all that running, the 20-minute drive over icy roads was a welcome relief. That is, of course, until the vehicle started shaking like we had just put it on spin cycle. Assuming that it was a combination of sitting for a week and the abundant ice and snow, we kept on trucking.
Once we finally reached the civic center, we breathed a sigh of relief. 28(ish) hours of traveling and we made it to the rink on time—relatively unscathed. Just as I began pulling into our final parking space, I heard the car mutter under its breath, “Ha-ha-ha, screw you,” and then died.
So I restarted the engine and moved it forward—an inch. And then it died. Again. Rinse and repeat for about 13 minutes as I literally inched the vehicle into its spot.
I don’t know what those other parking lot people must have thought about the idiot crossover inching its way into the parking space, but I know it can’t be good things.
Please understand—I’m quite comfortable with the humiliation associated with killing a vehicle in an honorable way. I originally learned how to drive with my dad’s manual transmission car. I’m well-acquainted with the mortifying humiliation that comes from killing your car in the middle of the intersection and having your hands shake because it won’t restart and everybody is honking and giving you The Look (and not the kind that Roxette sings about).
What I’m not comfortable with is repeatedly killing a vehicle that doesn’t even have a manual transmission while my nine-year-old brother visibly loses all respect for me as the vehicle continues to completely disregard me. That’s just mortifying with no sense of “learning experience” redemption.
Anyway, we eventually parked and made it inside just in time for the game to start.
Also, my dad’s team ended up winning the cup.
Everything worked out in the end and we’re all stronger Minnesotans because of it.
So. . . what’d you think? How did the condensed version hold up? If you read the original post, I would love your totally honest feedback!
Even if you didn’t read the original post, let me know what you thought of this one. I’m very much in the middle of a learning experience, so I appreciate any and all feedback, advice, and constructive criticism!