Adverbs tend to get a bad rap in writing circles. Stephen King says, “I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and I will shout it from the rooftops.” Should we throw out the adverb with the bathwater, or is there a place for them in our writing?

Author and writing coach Roy Peter Clark digs deeper in his book Writing Tools. He writes:

The authors of the classic Tom Swift adventures for boys loved the exclamation point and the adverb. Consider this brief passage from Tom Swift and His Great Searchlight:

“Look!” suddenly exclaimed Ned. “There’s the agent now! . . . I’m going to speak to him!” impulsively declared Ned.

The exclamation point after “Look” should suffice to fire up the young reader, but the author adds “suddenly” and “exclaimed” for good measure. Time and again, the writer uses the adverb, not to change out understanding of the verb, but to intensify it. The silliness of this style led to a form of pun called the “Tom Swiftie,” in which the adverb conveys the punch line:

“I’m an artist,” he said easily.
“I need some pizza now,” he said crustily.
“I’m the Venus de Milo,” she said disarmingly.
“I dropped my toothpaste,” he said, crestfallen.

In Clark’s Tom Swift example, the adverbs bog down the writing instead of adding energy. How do we use adverbs to create strong writing? Clark explains:

At their best, adverbs spice up a verb or adjective. At their worst, they express a meaning already contained in it:

The blast completely destroyed the church office.
The cheerleader gyrated wildly before the screaming fans.
The accident totally severed the boy’s arm.
The spy peered furtively through the bushes.

Consider the effect of deleting the adverbs:

The blast destroyed the church office.
The cheerleader gyrated before the screaming fans.
The accident severed the boy’s arm.
The spy peered through the bushes.

In each case, the deletion shortens the sentence, sharpens the point, and creates elbow room for the verb.

Instead of repeating a word's meaning, good adverbs modify it. Clark compares “She smiled happily,” and “She smiled sadly.” The first is weak because happily adds no new information. But in the second sentence, “sadly” transforms the meaning of “smiled,” making it a strong choice.

Clark also adds:

Remember the song "Killing Me Softly"? Good adverb. How about "Killing Me Fiercely"? Bad adverb.

Too many adverbs may bore readers to tears, but a well-chosen adverb creates new meaning and unexpected images.