We Talk About “Strong Verbs”, But…
We are often told to use strong verbs in our writing. It sounds straightforward enough, doesn’t it?
But here’s the confusing bit: “strong verb” means two quite different things, depending on whether we’re talking about grammar or the craft of writing.
And the distinction is rather interesting.
- Strong verbs in grammar
In grammar, strong verb is a technical linguistic classification.
Historically, Germanic verbs were divided into strong and weak verbs according to how they formed their past tense.
A strong verb typically changes the vowel within the word, following inherited patterns of vowel change.
For example:
- sing → sang → sung
- swim → swam → swum
- drink → drank → drunk
- write → wrote → written
A weak verb, historically speaking, forms its past tense with a dental ending, usually appearing in modern English as -ed.
For example:
- walk → walked
- jump → jumped
- laugh → laughed
So sing is grammatically a strong verb, whereas laugh is grammatically weak.
These terms come from the Germanic ancestry of English. They describe how verbs behave grammatically, not how powerful or expressive they are.
And here comes the slightly bonkers part…
- Strong verbs in creative writing
When writers and editors advise us to use stronger verbs, they usually mean something entirely different.
In creative writing, a strong verb is one that conveys an action precisely, vividly and effectively. It may express something that would otherwise need an adverb or additional description.
Consider:
The dragon walked slowly towards Splinter.
Now compare:
The dragon stalked towards Splinter.
Or:
Splinter looked angrily at Sir Hugo.
Compare that with:
Splinter glared at Sir Hugo.
The verbs stalked and glared are not considered strong because of their grammatical construction.
They are stylistically strong because they convey more information.
They combine action, manner and attitude in a single word.
This is why writing advice often recommends replacing rather general verbs such as get, make, do and have with more precise alternatives.
Bishop’s University’s “guidance on strong verbs” (https://www.ubishops.ca/wp-content/uploads/Strong-verbs-Sept-2023-2.pdf), for example, discusses how more precise verbs can give writing greater impact.
But there’s an important wrinkle.
- A grammatically weak verb can be a wonderfully strong writing choice
Take the verb glare.
Its past tense is glared, formed by adding -ed, so grammatically it belongs to the weak category.
Yet:
Sir Hugo glared at Splinter.
is wonderfully expressive.
We can almost imagine Splinter deciding that this might be an excellent moment to disappear!
Conversely, consider:
Sit → sat
This is grammatically a strong verb because it follows a historical vowel-change pattern.
But:
Splinter sat on the table.
isn’t necessarily an especially vivid sentence.
So the two meanings of strong are quite separate.
Term| What “strong” means
Grammatical strong verb| Forms its past tense through an inherited pattern of vowel change
Stylistically strong verb| Conveys an action precisely and effectively
One describes grammar. The other describes the choices we make as writers.
- But is a stronger verb always a better verb?
Now we come to something particularly important.
A more dramatic verb isn’t necessarily a better verb.
Let’s return to our dragon.
The dragon walked slowly towards Splinter.
The dragon stalked towards Splinter.
The second sentence suggests something rather threatening. But suppose the dragon is friendly, tired or simply curious?
Perhaps:
The dragon ambled towards Splinter.
would be more appropriate.
Or:
The dragon stumbled towards Splinter.
Each verb changes how we imagine the action.
The purpose isn’t to find the most colourful word. It is to find the word that conveys what we actually intend.
And sometimes the perfectly ordinary verb walked is exactly right.
We should also be careful not to assume that every adverb is unnecessary.
Consider:
Splinter smiled sadly.
The adverb introduces an emotional contradiction. Splinter is smiling, but something is troubling him.
Replacing smiled sadly with grinned would change the meaning entirely.
Adverbs are not enemies of good writing. They become a problem when they add nothing useful or merely repeat what the verb already tells us.
- What does this mean for poetry?
For poets, the choice of verb is particularly important.
A verb doesn’t merely describe an action. It contributes to the sound, rhythm, atmosphere and emotional movement of a line.
Consider:
She walked into the night.
She crept into the night.
She danced into the night.
She stumbled into the night.
The physical movement changes, but so does our understanding of the person, her feelings and possibly even the story surrounding her.
And when we read these lines aloud, we hear differences in rhythm and sound.
A poet may deliberately choose a quieter, less descriptive verb because it fits the movement of the poem or allows another image to carry the emotional weight.
Sometimes a simple word creates more impact than an elaborate one.
The question shouldn’t be, Can I find a stronger verb?
It should be, Does this verb do what I want it to do?
A final thought
“Strong verb” gets thrown about in writing instruction as though everybody agrees what it means.
They don’t.
Grammatical strength and stylistic strength are two different things, and neither guarantees good writing.
The most effective verb isn’t necessarily the most dramatic or colourful. It’s the one that conveys the intended meaning, creates the desired effect and belongs naturally in the sentence or line.
And perhaps the loveliest principle for writers is this:
A verb doesn’t have to be grammatically strong to make a sentence sing.
