Hillary Clinton’s repeated word is “eager” (can you believe it? the committee that wrote Living History should be ashamed). Cosmopolitan magazine editor Kate White uses “quickly” over a dozen times in A Body To Die
For. Jack Kerouac’s crutch word in On the Road is “sad,” sometimes doubly so—“sad, sad.” Ann Packer’s in The Dive from Clausen’s Pier is “weird.”
Crutch words are usually unremarkable. That’s why they slip under editorial radar—they’re not even worth repeating, but there you have it, pop, pop, pop, up they come. Readers, however, notice them, get irked by them and are eventually distracted by them, and down goes your book, never to be opened again.
But even if the word is unusual, and even if you use it differently when you repeat it, don’t: Set a higher standard for yourself even if readers won’t notice. In Jennifer Egan’s Look at me, the core word—a good
word, but because it’s good, you get *one* per book—is “abraded.” Here’s the problem:
“Victoria’s blue gaze abraded me with the texture of ground glass.” p. 202
“…(metal trucks abrading the concrete)…” p. 217
“…he relished the abrasion of her skepticism…” p. 256
“…since his abrasion with Z …” p. 272
The same goes for repeats of several words together—a phrase or sentence that may seem fresh at first, but, restated many times, draws attention from the author’s strengths. Sheldon Siegel nearly bludgeons us in his otherwise witty and articulate courtroom thriller, Final Verdict, with a sentence construction that’s repeated throughout the book:
“His tone oozes self-righteousness when he says…” p. 188
“His voice is barely audible when he says…” p. 193
“His tone is unapologetic when he says…” p. 199
“Rosie keeps her tone even when she says…” p. 200
“His tone is even when he says…” p. 205
“I switch to my lawyer voice when I say …” p. 211
“He sounds like Grace when he says…” p. 211
read entire piece on Holt Uncensored