Overused Words You Can Cut from Your Writing Right Now

"The road to hell is paved with adverbs." — Stephen King

Let me tell you a secret: I used to be a literary hoarder. I clung to every single "just," "really," and "very" like they were emotional support words. My paragraphs were padded like a poorly packed suitcase—crammed with fluff, just in case. I figured more was more, right? Turns out, no. Definitely not.

It wasn’t until I read one of my old blog posts out loud (which I highly recommend, by the way) that I realised how much filler I was stuffing into every sentence. I was softening every opinion, hesitating with every claim, and diluting every punch. It didn’t sound confident—it sounded like I was writing in a whisper.

So I started trimming. And let me tell you—editing out the fluff is like giving your writing a glow-up. The voice gets sharper, the pace gets snappier, and suddenly your words start to sound like they belong to someone who knows what they’re doing.

Today, I’m sharing a list of overused words that are probably lurking in your drafts right now—ready to be cut, reduced, or replaced. And hey, no judgment. I still use them sometimes. But now I know when they’re helping… and when they’re just taking up space.

✂️ Just

Oh, "just." My old bestie. "Just wanted to say," "just checking in," "just thinking." It’s the queen of softeners, and we love her—until she starts weakening our voice.

Weak: I just think we should consider another option.

Strong: We should consider another option.

See the difference? One sounds tentative. The other sounds like you mean it.

Now, I’m not saying banish "just" forever. Sometimes it’s useful for tone. But if you see it five times on one page, it’s time to do a little sweep.

🔥 Very

Mark Twain said it best: "Substitute ‘damn’ every time you’re inclined to write ‘very’; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be."

"Very" is a lazy amplifier. If you need to say "very tired," maybe what you really mean is "exhausted." "Very pretty"? Try "stunning," "lovely," or even better—describe what makes it pretty.

Weak: She was very angry.

Strong: She was livid. Or fuming. Or shaking with rage.

There’s usually a better, more specific word waiting in the wings.

🙄 Really

"Really" falls into the same trap as "very." It’s vague. It’s filler. It adds length without adding strength.

Weak: That was really interesting.

Strong: That was fascinating. Or bizarre. Or totally unexpected.

Also, sometimes "really" is just buying time. When I write "really," it’s often because I haven’t figured out what I’m trying to say yet. Once I do? "Really" usually disappears.

🧐 That

This one’s sneaky because it’s grammatically correct… but often completely unnecessary.

Okay: I believe that we can do this.

Better: I believe we can do this.

Try reading your sentence without "that." If it still works, cut it. I once cut 84 instances of "that" from a 2,000-word draft. Eighty-four! That’s a full paragraph of nothing.

🤓 Actually

This word is a trap. It’s got a bit of a know-it-all vibe, and it often comes across as passive-aggressive, even when you don’t mean it.

Mild: I actually think it could work.

Confident: I think it could work.

Use it sparingly, especially if you’re trying to sound approachable rather than defensive.

😱 Suddenly

"Suddenly" is the writing equivalent of shouting "Boo!" It tries to inject drama by announcing it—rather than building it.

Weak: Suddenly, the lights went out.

Better: The lights flickered. Then, darkness.

You don’t need to say it was sudden—just show it.

💀 Literally

Unless something actually, truly, in-real-life literally happened, check yourself.

Cringe: I literally died.

No, you didn’t. And if you did, congrats on being a ghost who writes articles.

Save "literally" for the moments when you need to clarify something wasn’t a metaphor. Otherwise, it’s just noise.

🤏 Quite

This one sounds fancy, but it’s usually just a softener. And softeners make your sentences limp.

Meh: She was quite nice.

Better: She was warm, thoughtful, and funny.

Let the actions and descriptions do the work. "Quite" is the literary equivalent of a polite smile—it doesn’t do much.

👀 Seemed/Appeared

These words tiptoe. They hint. They hesitate. Sometimes that’s appropriate—but sometimes it’s just your inner critic trying to hedge.

Weak: She seemed annoyed.

Stronger: She rolled her eyes and slammed the cabinet.

If you’re going to describe it, own it. Be direct unless ambiguity is part of the point.

🚦 Started to / Began to

These phrases delay the action. Unless the stopping point is important, just get to the verb.

Slow: He started to cry.

Direct: He cried.

If the start matters—"He started to cry, then caught himself"—keep it. But otherwise, cut the preamble.

🕵️‍♀️ How to Catch These in Your Own Writing

Let me be real with you: your eyes will lie to you. You’ve read your piece a dozen times already, and your brain will skim right over these words.

Here’s what I do:

• Use the "Find" tool and search one word at a time. You’ll be shocked how many pop up.
• Read it aloud—slowly. If you hear yourself hesitating or tripping, that’s a red flag.
• Do a "cut pass," where your only job is to delete filler. You can always add things back. (Spoiler: you won’t.)

💪 Why This Makes You Sound More Confident

Every time you cut a weak word, your sentence stands a little taller. It’s like switching from a shrug to eye contact.

I didn’t realize how much I was hedging until I stopped. And when I did? My writing started to sound like me. Not a watered-down, overly polite version—but the actual me: opinionated, curious, a little dramatic, and not afraid to take up space.

Writing without filler isn’t about being harsh—it’s about being intentional. Your words matter. Every single one should be working for you, not holding you back.

Cutting these words won’t solve every writing problem, but it’s a brilliant place to start. It’s like sweeping your porch before inviting people over. The space feels cleaner, more welcoming. More you.

So go ahead—open up that draft. Search for your crutches. Give your sentences a little tough love. And watch how quickly your writing snaps into shape.

What’s your personal overused word? What have you cut from your writing that made it stronger? Drop it in the comments—I’d love to see what you’ve kicked to the curb.

As always, if you’ve made it to here, thank you for reading! If you liked this article, please give me a follow!