Verbs do more than show action: they indicate when the action happened, how many things were acting, and can add description. This last bit is what matters most to us writers: describing actions.
The choice of a verb can describe the action. A good choice makes it real. To depict consuming food we use the infinitive “to eat.” “Mary eats pancakes” names the action; it tells us what happens (eats) and names who does the action (Mary). But the verb doesn’t tell us how Mary eats. Yet, other verbs can add information about Mary’s action. She may:
All verbs tell us what, but not all verbs tell us how.
Mary batted her eyelashes demurely and ate her pancakes.
This sentence paints an unclear image of a shy or coy female but doesn’t tell us much else. Why does she bat her eyelashes before eating? Beats us. She may have troublesome contacts or blurry eyesight. She may be making a move on the debonair waiter. Your guess is as good as ours since the sentence doesn’t help.
Mary batted her eyelashes demurely and nibbled at her pancakes.
This sentence paints the image of a shy female, perhaps with a sheltered upbringing. “Nibbling” buttresses the batting eyelashes and delivers prim images to mind.
Mary batted her eyelashes demurely and scarfed her pancakes.
Finally, this sentence paints a disturbing image. Perhaps she’s famished or ravenous (“hungry” wouldn’t give us a measure of her appetite). Batting her eyelashes before wolfing down her pancakes adds strangeness to an otherwise tame scene. Why? Because batting one’s eyelashes (demurely, don’t forget) before pouncing on the pancakes is unnatural and unexpected. We wouldn’t be surprised if the debonair waiter cringed at the sight.
“Nibble” and “scarf” are how verbs, while eat is a what verb. Writers must strive to use how verbs whenever possible. This harkens back to our pitting weak against strong verbs. Adding “how” and “why” to the explanation fleshes out these vague concepts.
When settling down to rewrite, or line edit, or otherwise polish prose, stop at verbs and query them. Ask are you a what or a how? If a what, consider replacing. Naturally, not all what verbs have a list of how relatives to choose from. Replacing those that do can change your prose.
Check the following passage:
Count Lecter and Lady Murasaki enter Hannibal’s room. He has bitten the pillow with his teeth and feathers are flying. Hannibal moans and screams, moving, fighting, clenching his teeth. Count Lecter puts his weight on him and holds the boy’s arms in the blanket.
There’s nothing wrong with the passage, but Thomas Harris is a master, and a lover of how verbs. His choices are a joy to read and elevate his prose to dizzying heights. This is how he wrote it:
Count Lecter and Lady Murasaki burst into Hannibal’s room. He has ripped the pillow with his teeth and feathers are flying. Hannibal growls and screams, thrashing, fighting gritting his teeth. Count Lecter puts his weight on him and confines the boy’s arms in the blanket.
In “holds” (the boy’s arms in the blanket) he could have used “secures,” “grips,” “grasps,” “clutches,” “clasps,” “grabs,” “seizes,” “clenches,” etc. He didn’t. He chose “confines,” a beautiful how verb that reflects the anxious mood. His choice marks a subtle difference between everyday prose and literature.
For writers, what’s in a verb?