Too Many, or Too Few, Words?
The following dialogue is from the film “Amadeus”:
MOZART: So then you like it? You really like it, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Of course I do. It's very good. Of course now and then - just now and then - it gets a touch elaborate.
MOZART: What do you mean, Sire?
EMPEROR: Well, I mean occasionally it seems to have, how shall one say? [he stops in difficulty; turning to Orsini-Rosenberg] How shall one say, Director?
ORSINI-ROSENBERG: Too many notes, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.
MOZART: I don't understand. There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less.
EMPEROR: My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in the course of an evening. I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I, Court Composer?
SALIERI: Yes! yes! er, on the whole, yes, Majesty.
MOZART: But this is absurd!
EMPEROR: My dear, young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Cut a few and it will be perfect.
MOZART: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?
EMPEROR: Well. There it is.
A funny scene, implying that the Emperor of Austria was a booby lacking the fine taste and judgment to appreciate one of the greatest composers of all time. But was he such a fool? How many of us enjoy sitting through more than three hours of grand opera? What about great plays and novels, for example the uncut “Hamlet”, Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” or Melville’s “Moby Dick”? Would some judicious editing of any number of lengthy masterpieces be a crime tantamount to sacrilege? Or would these works benefit from careful editing? I can speak only for myself. While I appreciate greatness on the large scale, less can sometimes be more; keep it simple, short and sweet can be an appropriate guideline, especially in certain genres.
All writers must deal with word count, but word count in and of itself has nothing to do with writing; it’s a marketplace criteria. If publishers, editors and agents think the reading public wants novels of a certain length, most of us had better conform to their requirements if we want to be published.
On the other hand, those among us fortunate enough to have a large readership can afford to bend the rules.
As a writer and reader I like my crime novels relatively short, about two-hundred to three-hundred printed pages, or from approximately 67,000-85,000 words. Many great writers in the genre, including Hammett, Chandler, Simenon, Stout, Westlake, et. al. wrote taut, fast-paced fiction of that length or less. That doesn’t mean great crime fiction can’t run longer. It’s a matter of taste and what the market demands. In other words, readers shouldn’t be ashamed to say, “I really like this book, but there are simply too many words. Cut a few and it will be perfect.”
MOZART: So then you like it? You really like it, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Of course I do. It's very good. Of course now and then - just now and then - it gets a touch elaborate.
MOZART: What do you mean, Sire?
EMPEROR: Well, I mean occasionally it seems to have, how shall one say? [he stops in difficulty; turning to Orsini-Rosenberg] How shall one say, Director?
ORSINI-ROSENBERG: Too many notes, Your Majesty?
EMPEROR: Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.
MOZART: I don't understand. There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less.
EMPEROR: My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in the course of an evening. I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I, Court Composer?
SALIERI: Yes! yes! er, on the whole, yes, Majesty.
MOZART: But this is absurd!
EMPEROR: My dear, young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Cut a few and it will be perfect.
MOZART: Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?
EMPEROR: Well. There it is.
A funny scene, implying that the Emperor of Austria was a booby lacking the fine taste and judgment to appreciate one of the greatest composers of all time. But was he such a fool? How many of us enjoy sitting through more than three hours of grand opera? What about great plays and novels, for example the uncut “Hamlet”, Tolstoy’s “War and Peace” or Melville’s “Moby Dick”? Would some judicious editing of any number of lengthy masterpieces be a crime tantamount to sacrilege? Or would these works benefit from careful editing? I can speak only for myself. While I appreciate greatness on the large scale, less can sometimes be more; keep it simple, short and sweet can be an appropriate guideline, especially in certain genres.
All writers must deal with word count, but word count in and of itself has nothing to do with writing; it’s a marketplace criteria. If publishers, editors and agents think the reading public wants novels of a certain length, most of us had better conform to their requirements if we want to be published.
On the other hand, those among us fortunate enough to have a large readership can afford to bend the rules.
As a writer and reader I like my crime novels relatively short, about two-hundred to three-hundred printed pages, or from approximately 67,000-85,000 words. Many great writers in the genre, including Hammett, Chandler, Simenon, Stout, Westlake, et. al. wrote taut, fast-paced fiction of that length or less. That doesn’t mean great crime fiction can’t run longer. It’s a matter of taste and what the market demands. In other words, readers shouldn’t be ashamed to say, “I really like this book, but there are simply too many words. Cut a few and it will be perfect.”
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