Here is a sentence from a real first draft: "I just wanted to quickly reach out and let you know that, due to the fact that the venue has basically double-booked us, we are unfortunately going to have to reschedule."
Thirty-one words. The message is that the venue double-booked and the event moves. That's eight words. The other twenty-three are cushioning, hedging, and the sound of a writer apologizing for writing.
Filler words rarely add meaning. They add apology. Unlike most writing problems, though, they're wonderfully curable, because they come in a small number of repeat-offender forms. Below are thirty of them, sorted by species, with rewrites. Count them if you like; the tables total exactly thirty.
Why we pad in the first place
Spoken language needs filler, because speech happens in real time and the listener needs something to hold while you find the thought. "Um," "well," "you know," "I just wanted to ask": these are the audible sounds of a brain composing. They're polite in conversation and fatal on the page, because the page waits. The reader sets the pace, and the reader has already set it to fast.
The second source is fear. "Just" shrinks a request so rejection costs less. "Somewhat" hedges a claim so being wrong costs less. "I would argue that" refunds the reader's money in advance. The trouble is that readers price your confidence by your language. Announce that your point is small, and they'll believe you.
The cure isn't bluntness. It's cutting words that do no work, in the line pass of your edit, after structure is settled and before polish begins.
Intensifiers that weaken what they touch
An intensifier announces that the word it modifies was too weak to be worth saying. Sometimes that's true, and the fix is a stronger word. Sometimes the weak word was fine, and the fix is deletion.
| Word | Before | After |
|---|---|---|
| very | The report was very clear | The report was clear |
| really | It really changed how we work | It changed how we work |
| quite | The results were quite good | The results were good |
| rather | It was rather difficult | It was difficult |
| somewhat | We were somewhat surprised | We were surprised |
| extremely | The deadline was extremely tight | The deadline was brutal |
| absolutely | You absolutely need this | You need this |
| totally | That's totally different | That's different |
| definitely | I definitely recommend it | I recommend it |
| actually | It actually works | It works |
| basically | It's basically a wrapper | It's a wrapper |
| essentially | Essentially, we're delaying | We're delaying |
| literally | I literally rewrote it ten times | I rewrote it ten times |
| just | I just wanted to ask | I wanted to ask |
Notice the pattern in the After column: the sentence stands. Occasionally an intensifier points at genuine scale, as when "brutal" replaces "extremely tight," and then the fix is upgrading the word, not deleting the modifier. And mind "literally," which has drifted into pure emphasis in speech. On the page it should mean "in the literal sense." If you mean "figuratively," write nothing at all.
Phrases that spend ten words on one
These are the office-culture inheritances, phrases that sound official and merely cost syllables. Each has a one- or two-word twin that says the identical thing.
| Phrase | Write instead |
|---|---|
| in order to | to |
| due to the fact that | because |
| at this point in time | now |
| in the event that | if |
| for the purpose of | to |
| in spite of the fact that | although |
| with regard to | about |
| a large number of | many |
| prior to | before |
| in the near future | soon |
| on a daily basis | daily |
| in the process of | usually delete |
Then come the throat-clearers, phrases that announce a point instead of making it:
| Phrase | Write instead |
|---|---|
| the fact of the matter is | delete; state the matter |
| needless to say | delete; then it needed no saying |
| I would argue that | delete; argue it |
| when all is said and done | ultimately, or delete |
A sentence that opens with "The fact of the matter is that the vendor missed three deadlines" is machinery wrapped around one fact. "The vendor missed three deadlines" needs no machinery.
There is, and other empty openings
"There are three reasons why the merger failed" spends its first two words delaying the subject. The reader, scanning, meets "there are" and learns nothing, then restarts at "three reasons." Try "Three reasons killed the merger," or simply begin with the first reason and let the count take care of itself.
The same applies to "It is worth noting that prices rose" (prices rose, and if it's worth noting, the reader will note it) and "It was decided that the launch would be delayed" (decided by whom? Name the decider and you get an active sentence for free). These constructions aren't grammatical errors. They're toll booths between the reader and the subject.
When filler earns its keep
Cut everything above with a blind find-and-replace and you'll damage your writing, because some filler is doing work.
Dialogue is the obvious case. People genuinely say "you know" and "well, basically," and a character speaking in polished clauses sounds like a press release. Voice is the subtler case: a chatty newsletter that says "quite a week" is being a chatty newsletter, and sanding that off leaves gravel. And an occasional intensifier is rhythm. "The meeting was long. It was very long." The second sentence lands because the first one earned it.
The test is substitution. Mark Twain, in a line widely attributed to him, suggested replacing every "very" with "damn" and letting the editor delete it. The joke works because it forces the question: is this word doing anything? If "damn" would be absurd there, so is "very."
How to run the hunt
Do this in the line pass, on a draft whose structure is already settled. Then:
- Open a find-and-replace tool and search one word at a time: "very," then "really," then "just," down your list of suspects.
- Decide each hit in context. Never blanket-delete, because the dialogue and voice exceptions above are real.
- Check the word count before and after. The number will drop, and the more satisfying change is hearing a paragraph stand at attention.
- Run a grammar checker afterward, because deleting words occasionally breaks agreement: "There are three reasons" becomes "Three reasons," and the verb still has to agree with what's left.
Expect the first hunt to feel violent and the results to feel like relief. Most drafts carry more cushioning than their writers suspect, and readers feel every ounce of it.
Frequently Asked Questions
Is it always wrong to start a sentence with "there is"?
No. "There is a reason the manual has a warning on page one" is fine, because the construction carries emphasis rather than delaying a subject. The problem is the habitual version, where "there are" fronts sentence after sentence. Read the sentence without the opener; if it loses nothing, cut.
Should I cut "just" from my emails?
Usually, and especially in requests. "I just wanted to check in" presents your check-in as an imposition. "I'm checking in on the invoice" is the same sentence wearing confidence. Decide deliberately whether you want the request to sound small, because "just" will make it sound small whether you meant it or not.
Will cutting filler make my writing sound rude?
Bluntness and rudeness are different things. Rudeness lives in content ("this draft is a mess"); concision merely removes padding ("send me the revised draft by Friday"). Keep the courtesy words that do work, like "please" and "thank you," and cut the ones that apologize for existing.
How much shorter will my draft get?
Noticeably, though rarely dramatically, and length is the wrong measure anyway. The gain that matters is density: the surviving words carry weight. If you want a number, run the word count before and after the hunt and see for yourself.
Are any intensifiers worth keeping?
When they mark genuine scale or carry rhythm, yes. "The exam was very hard" is filler, but "very" in "you were the very first" is intentional emphasis. In both cases the test is the substitution question: if the word changes nothing when removed, it was furniture.
Cut one word today
Run this experiment on the next thing you send. Search your draft for "very" and delete every instance. Nothing will break, and the prose will stand up straighter. That one deletion, practiced until it's reflex, is the whole philosophy in miniature: words that do no work don't get to stay.