Today I'm analyzing my Fourth Draft for every instance of “looked.”
Sometimes it's a filter word: “She looked at the solid door.” The sentence is more immediate without the filter: “The door was solid.”
Sometimes, “looked” is a shortcut to tell something I could show: “The door looked solid.” This alternative is more evocative: “The oak door was handspan thick, and braced with iron bands.”
Those are invented examples. Here's a real sentence that snagged me:
“Sevira looked weary. It wasn’t an act, he guessed. Not this time.”
My first attempt to address this went overboard:
“Sevira's eyes were downcast, her lips a tight downward curve. She rested the fingertips of one hand to her temple while she braced against her cane with the other.”
Too much. Too many gestures dog-piling onto poor Sevira, and now this sentence slows the scene; what was supposed to be a passing observation became a vignette.
Here's where I landed:
“Sevira sagged against her cane, eyes downcast. It wasn’t an act, he suspected. Not this time.”
This feels right. It shows the moment when honest weariness replaces practiced frailty.
