More is Less

So I just discovered The Eye of Argon, written by Jim Theis in 1970, when Theis was 16 years old. It’s a heroic fantasy novella and considered to be some of the worst writing in fantasy.

Considering he was 16, it’s not bad. I figure it’s a brilliant example of overwriting, a study in obscure adjectives and unnecessary adverbs. Don’t worry, excerpts are coming.

The Eye of Argon follows the journey of the warrior, Gringr, who spends much of the story trying to escape the king’s dungeon. It’s evolved into a popular game at Sci Fi conventions, namely to see how long a person can read it without laughing. To Theis’s credit, there’s not much I wrote at age 16 that I’d want anyone reading aloud. But here it goes.

The opening paragraph (typos left in from the original):

The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome cargoes of their struggling overseers.

Adjective/Adverb Count: 17 (18% of the text)

Notable problem: The state of the trail. Weather beaten, and age worn hoof prints implies hard-packed dirt. Yet it’s also apparently very sandy and dusty (4 references).

Then a little further into the first chapter, a battle is underway, apparently between the riders of the three heaving mounts. Don’t ask me who is who.

A gleaming scimitar smote a heavy blow against the renegade's spiked helmet, bringing a heavy cloud over the Ecordian's misting brain. Shaking off the effects of the pounding blow to his head, Grignr brought down his scarlet streaked edge against the soldier's crudely forged hauberk, clanging harmlessly to the left side of his opponent. The soldier's stead whinnied as he directed the horse back from the driving blade of the barbarian. Grignr leashed his mount forward as the hoarsely piercing battle cry of his wilderness bred race resounded from his grinding lungs. A twirling blade bounced harmlessly from the mighty thief's buckler as his rolling right arm cleft upward, sending a foot of blinding steel ripping through the Simarian's exposed gullet. A gasping gurgle from the soldier's writhing mouth as he tumbled to the golden sand at his feet, and wormed agonizingly in his death bed.

Adjective/Adverb count: 27-ish (lost count a few times) (18% of text – he’s consistent)

Notable problem: Who’s the Ecordian, renegade, barbarian, and Simarian? Same person? What is a misting brain and is that something you can shake off? Exactly how many people are in this scene and who am I supposed to root for?

I don’t bring this up to make fun of Theis, but rather to point out that good writing is not a function of filling up sentences with as many words as possible. Adjectives and adverbs often become crutches for ineffective nouns and verbs. So use them sparingly and use them well. Good writing happens when less produces more, not the other way around.

If you’re interested in reading more, The Eye of Argon has been published by Wildside Books, or you can find it online at http://www-users.cs.york.ac.uk/~susan/sf/eyeargon/eyeargon.htm

I love these! Thanks to Southern Review of Books for this posting. It takes a lot of talent to write this bad.


Deliberate attempts at bad writing have been popularized by the Bulwer-Lytton awards, named after the British author noted for writing purple prose and melodrama. Another notable effort to encourage readers to submit stretches similes and overwrought metaphors was launched by the Washington Post in 1995 and 1999. Following are some of the noteworthy entries.

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.
2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.
3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.
4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E.Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.
8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.
9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.
10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.
11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.
12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.
13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.
16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.
17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
19. Shots rang out, as shots are known to do.
20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for awhile.
22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.
25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.