The stronger the verb, the stronger the writing

My mind's eye frames fireworks fallout from last weekend's holiday hoopla. You know how, amid spectacular starbursts, some scheduled superpops sputter and sag?

The same thing happens when a writer, who should aim for vigorous prose, chooses a lame verb instead of a strong one. The weakest verb? Any form of "to be" — is, am, was, has been. Those "to be" forms feel like limp handshakes.

From the current issue of the Atlantic magazine, an example:

"Few betrayals have enraged [Trump] more than what his attorney general did to him. To Trump, the unkindest cut of all was when William Barr stepped forward and declared that there had been no widespread fraud in the 2020 election."

Look at the phrase "the unkindest cut of all was when ..."

A "cut" cannot be a "when." A strong verb solves the problem: "The unkindest cut penetrated when ..."

Another solution: "To Trump, the unkindest cut came when Barr declared that there had been no widespread fraud."

In that last sentence I am exercising the prerogative of the interlocutor by indulging my enthusiasm. And there you see an example of inflated, self-important language.

As in this tortured expression: "I'm increasingly of the view that ..."

Stronger and simpler: "I believe that ..."

Now, please, go back to the opening sentence of this column and notice the glut — the glut! — of alliteration.

Too much, agreed? Remember: Use techniques sparingly, to avoid being typecast and cast aside.

"Nattering nabobs of negativism."