Adverbs

So we all know adverbs should be kept to an absolute minimum, right?  You do know that?

Well, then, how did I think I'd get away with this sentence from Chapter One, Scene Three of my novel?

David resembled a little old lady behind the steering wheel, gingerly maneuvering out of the tight parallel parking spot near the restaurant, carefully negotiating busy intersections on city streets, and consistently obeying the speed limit to a fault. 

Bless my beta reader for letting me get away with this sentence.  In the second round of edits, of this same sentence I planned to refer to my beta reader, I'd even written a comment, asking him if it was "acceptable" to use so many adverbs–in a single sentence.

But I already knew the answer.  Every time I read this overloaded–and, need I say, vague thing–I stopped, knowing it was wrong, but not knowing how to fix it.

Then, a couple days ago, I figured it out.  And it was a lot easier to figure out than I thought it would be.

In general, adverbs–words ending in "ly"–signify lazy writing.  They let the writer off the hook, is what they do.  They allow him to skim the surface of what he really wants to say.

If I'm a reader, what do the verbs maneuver, negotiate, and obey really tell me?  Not a whole hell of a lot.  They sort of hint at the meaning of what I, the writer, want to say, but they don't go deep enough.

When I sat in my chair, looked at this sentence, and asked myself "What is David really doing?", I had to figure out how David would maneuver out of this tight parallel parking spot.  What would he physically do?  In other words, what's the real action, in the real world, here?  And I did the same for the other two phrases.

Finally, here's what I came up with, including a few other edits to eliminate unnecessary words and to strengthen this sentence:  

Sitting behind the steering wheel, David reminded me of a little old lady, edging out of the tight parallel parking spot near the restaurant, peering in each direction before passing through busy intersections, and driving at or below the speed limit.

See the difference?

Instead of writing David "gingerly maneuvered," he "edged".
Instead of "carefully negotiating," he "peered."
Instead of "consistently obeying," he "drove." 

Edged, peered, and drove are all actions words.  They are actions each of us does nearly every day when we get into our cars and go places in them.  In a piece of writing, they also tell the reader what your character is doing.  Because of their specificity, they allow the reader to relate exactly to the actions the character takes. 

So what have we learned here?

We've learned that, to rid your writing of most–or all?–adverbs, ask yourself, what, in the real world, is my character doing here?  What could he do, in the here and now, that would allow him to do what I need him to do?

The easiest way to do this is to put yourself in the position of your character.  You're in that tight parking spot.  Like David, you're a cautious driver, driving, in this case, a 1959 Pontiac Bonneville convertible, in excellent condition.  What would you do to get your prized car home?

Sit in your chair and think about it.  Don't give up until you figure it out.  Your writing will be the stronger for it, believe me.