This post is by Janice Hardy (@Janice_Hardy).

We hear it all the time: never use adverbs in your writing. Sound advice, but if we follow it to the extreme, we could miss out on their very useful properties.

As bad a rep as adverbs have, they’re actually pretty handy during a first draft. They allow us to jot down how a character feels or speaks without losing our momentum. We can keep writing, and go back and revise later.

Adverbs are red flags

Adverbs are also helpful red flags during revisions, pointing out great opportunities to flesh out what our character is doing and identify places we might want to develop further.

I walked cautiously across the room to the back door.

Here, “cautiously” is explaining that this person is cautious in some way. We could find another word for “walked cautiously,” like tiptoed or sneaked, but that only solves the lazy adverb problem. It doesn’t do anything to capitalize on what our subconscious might be telling us. Instead, try looking deeper and showing someone being cautious in a way that helps characterize and further develop the scene.

I scanned the room, checking for tripwires, pressure plates, anything that looked like it might be a trap. Looked clear. I darted for the door.

Is it longer than the first adverb sentence? Sure, but it’s more interesting and conveys additional information about what’s going on—which probably saves words elsewhere.

Adverbs are mood changers

Let’s look at another common example:

“I hate you,” she said angrily.

In this instance, there are plenty of ways we can dramatize anger. The she in question can bang her fist on a table, spit in his face, pull out a Sig Sauer nine mil and blow his brains out. All of those would be more exciting than “angrily,” which can mean something different to everyone who reads it. This is a great opportunity for characterization. The gal who would bang her fist on a table is not the same gal who’d break out that Sig.

Now, look at a line like:

“I hate you,” she said softly.

Many people would swap out “softly” for “whisper” in this instance, but whispering isn’t the same as speaking softly. I can speak softly and not whisper. “Softly” is an adverb that conveys something specific depending on the context in which it’s used. What it’s paired with will make or break it

She clenched her fists so tight her knuckles went white. “I hate you,” she said softly. She giggled, covering her mouth when the teacher turned their way and glared. “I hate you,” she said softly. She kept the table between them, moving as he did around the edge. “I hate you,” she said softly.

Three sentences, the same adverb in each, but notice how every single one has a different feel to it based on what came before it. Anger. Playfulness. Fear. Can we replace the adverb with something else? You bet. We could even drop the tag entirely. Do we have to just because it contains an adverb? No, I don’t think so.

Instead of cutting adverbs without prejudice, try looking at each one and what its sentence is trying to do, and then consider other ways to get that idea across. It’s not always about replacing an adverb with a stronger word, though that’s certainly an option. Sometimes those adverbs are pinpointing an important aspect that would make the section sing if we fleshed it out.

Adverbs are not the enemy. They’re just our subconscious telling us to “do more here.”

About the Author: Janice Hardy always wondered about the darker side of healing. For her fantasy trilogy The Healing Wars, she tapped into her own dark side to create a world where healing was dangerous, and those with the best intentions often made the worst choices. Her books include The Shifter, Blue Fire, and Darkfall. She lives in Georgia with her husband, three cats, and one very nervous freshwater eel. You can visit her online, chat with her about writing on her blog The Other Side of the Story, or find her on Twitter.

Tell me your opinion: What’s your policy on adverbs? Are you a “kill them all” or a “catch and release” type writer?