It’s easy to let word count maximums dictate how you write. We are, after all, pretty well programmed to stay inside the boxes we are given and create boundaries for ourselves. (It’s the primary reason the 9 Dots Problem is hard for people, when it seems like it should be simple.)
But letting word count limit what and how you write frequently leads to weaker writing: writing that’s cautious, uninspired, playing it safe.
So in this guide, we’re going to talk about how to cut words from your college essay, and offer you a few clear, actionable strategies for how to cut words in your essay (which we’ll get to below), but before we get to those things, we want to set some context for when you should focus on word count and cutting, so you can write and cut more effectively.
So … when should I focus on cutting?
Shouldn’t I be obsessed with word count?
Nope.
When you’re writing your college essays, word count should be the last thing you worry about. Even if you’re feeling panicked at the sight of tiny spaces allowing only 150, 250, or 650 words, tell yourself during the drafting and revising phase that you’ll deal with it in due time. And by “due time,” we mean a few weeks before submitting your essays, which is ideally when you should get serious about deleting words.
So if you’re still early in the writing process, you’ll want to wait to actually use the strategies below.
What’s key early on (and really for most of the writing process) is getting interesting, immersive detail down on the (digital) page. Go ahead: get lost in the details. Trust your storytelling instincts. Forget about word count.
Because focusing on word count early in the writing process actually prevents you from getting into the content that you need. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen essays that were just getting to the good stuff, but then didn’t, and when I asked why, the student said, “Well I was worried about word count, so…”
What you want to do first is show a lot—and then a lot more!
(If you need a quick lesson on Show, Don’t Tell, with clear examples and tactics, conveniently, we have that right here.)
And focus on structure, too. That’s a great tactic, early on. Reverse outline, or begin with one. Write full scenes. Cut and paste, moving things around. Think about your reader, who they are, and what they see through your writing.
(Also conveniently, if you need a quick lesson on who your audience is, you can check out that same Show Don’t Tell post.)
And don’t worry if your drafts are over the limit by hundreds of words. At CEG we’ve seen people take their essays from 4000 words to 650. We’d generally recommend never writing a 4000-word draft for your personal statement—that’s kinda’ nuts—but we want you to understand that if you’re only a few hundred words over, you’re fine.
In fact, you really can’t write a great essay that’s vulnerable, unique, and detailed unless you first give yourself permission to explore a variety of ideas and scenes.
As an author who’s had to cut more than 20K words from her novels, I often tell my students: “Overwrite” first and “underwrite” later. Then, when you’re closing in on the last weeks of revision, you roll up your sleeves and jump in ready to remove.
Or to paraphrase young adult author A.S. King, Bring your Holy $%#@ Chainsaw of Revision to this process, because revision is the sport.
Wait … revision is a sport?
Yup! Note King says “the.” She makes it a game. With certain projects, she aims to cut 20% of every page in a novel she’s revising.
With the college essay, the analogy might be 10-20 words a paragraph. And just reframing revision as a challenge to yourself to “get it right”—clearer, more compelling, more you—can be great motivation.
Think about it this way: if you’re over by 200+ words, the math gets a little less intimidating if you take it paragraph per paragraph. This is how we reach our goals: word by word (or “bird by bird,” as author Anne Lamott says).
And reframes like “revision is a sport” are useful—it’s really easy to get attached to words and phrasing. So practice unattaching yourself by making cutting a game.
And then maybe do a celebration dance whenever you see your word count drop. (Next TikTok trend? #nerdlife)
So how do I cut?
There are four basic strategies. Which you employ can depend on how much you need to cut (though you’ll generally find yourself using all of them in some way).
Word by word.
Phrase by phrase.
Line by line.
Idea by idea.
We’ll get to how to apply these four strategies in a minute. But before that, let’s talk about where to apply them—as in, what content to cut.
What should go? (And what should I keep?)
Here’s a content rubric for Dos and Don’ts to keep in mind as you cut. And by cut, we also mean condense, replace, and summarize.
Do Cut
Obvious “sports commentary.” As in, don’t write like a sportscaster yammering on with statements that explain the obvious. “This shows I am quite persistent and committed to my work.” If you just gave a unique, specific example of persistence and commitment—“I spent 40 days and 40 nights with Khan Academy videos outside of my normal homework till I mastered calculus”—then your point is already made.
Vague yet eloquent generalizations. If you don’t know what these are, check out our Show, Don’t Tell post.
Ideas or details that are off topic, AKA, not essential to this job interview. If you have to give a lot or background or context to get a story off the ground, think about how you can condense it. Remember, you’re the star of the show, not Mom or Grandpa or your classmates or the debate team. Ask yourself whether the details you’re focusing on show your college-ready skills, interests, values, and accomplishments. If not, bye-bye.
Don’t Cut
Cinematic detail that helps us see you, as if you’re the focus of a documentary. As in, details of you choosing, acting, thinking, doing. Show who you are and the college readiness we know you possess by being authentic, vulnerable, and real.
Words that allow for rhythm and flow. Sometimes “extra” words are essential for the sound and pace we want. For “voice” (which is a super vague term, meaning something like “saying something in a way that roughly only you would say it”). So if you have to err on the side of a little more to strike the right beat or tone, do so.
Surprising and unique insight. Known as the good kind of telling, it’s your surprising and complex sports commentary on your life, your self-awareness of your values, your growth, your unique way you will contribute to a school.
The Strategies (Again)
Repeat after us, and employ as needed:
Word by word
Phrase by phrase
Line by line
Idea by idea
Word by Word
For the easiest phase of the revision game, and especially if you’re only over word count by, say, 5ish%, cut extraneous words, one by one.
Which words are extraneous below? Can you cut at least one, then do a celebration dance?
“I couldn’t believe that I would be stuck handling prom preparations.”
That’s right: “I couldn’t believe that I would be stuck handling prom preparations.”
1 word! Let’s dance–
But wait! Hold up! We found another.
“I couldn’t believe that I’ would be stuck handling prom preparations.”
Did you know: contractions are actually cool in college essays?
(Sssh: don’t tell your English teacher. But seriously. They’re fine.)
2 words gone! Okay, do your Safety Dance, or the Macarena, or the Dab, or Gangnam Style, or Griddy, or…
Phrase by Phrase
With phrase by phrase cuts, you want to keep an eye out for ways to tighten for flow and for emphasizing scene versus summary—ways you can actually improve your writing while dropping word count. When we say “flow,” we mean rhythm and pacing—“trippingly on the tongue” (thanks, Hamlet!). Your words should flow through the admission officer’s mind too, and if possible, make them forget they’re reading.
Here’s an example of some stellar student writing where, alas, he had to cut, because he needed to make room for a salient paragraph on his favorite research project in AP history. Because space was limited (thanks, 650 word count!), he had to turn to his brilliant hook paragraph for some cuts.
Here’s the original:
“In the 55th minute, with the game deadlocked at zero, South African winger Siphiwe Tshabalala fired a rocket of a ball into the top corner of the net to score the first goal of the tournament. A reaction of shock in the crowd quickly turned to joy.”
Spot any phrases that you could get rid of?
Here’s what he did:
“In the 55th minute, with the game deadlocked at zero, South African winger Siphiwe Tshabalala fired a rocket of a ball into the top corner of the net to score the first goal of the tournament. A reaction of shock in the crowd quickly turned to joy.”
Which actually makes the writing better: Do you see how a super-short, pithy sentence at the close of a long, image-rich sentence works beautifully? Good call, student! He should celebrate those six words gone. And celebrate the fact that he kept some cool, cinematic touches here, those resonant details of a World Cup game that showcases his love of both sports and travel.
But guess what? It’s all in the eye of the beholder, i.e., the author, which means other students have looked at this example since and suggested other cuts. Thus proving the following: there’s no one right way to cut, and many different methods work for individual contexts.
For example:
“In the 55th minute, with the game deadlocked at zero, South African winger Siphiwe Tshabalala fired a rocket of a ball into the top corner of the net to score the first goal of the tournament. A reaction of shock in the crowd quickly turned to joy.”
So if the student happened to be really desperate for cuts, and had to get that opening hook down to just the essentials? Then here are 18 words, gone!
Need more? “Into the net” could go as well.
In other words, it all depends on the essay you are writing and what is essential to the cinematic portrait of you. Would the student be smarter to add more specifics in another paragraph about his history research paper, and limit the amount of storytelling he does about his visit to a World Cup game? Or is it better to render an immersive portrait of a World Cup game for the reader, to not only illustrate the student’s passion, but also hook the reader?
Only you, the author, can make that kind of call.
A key takeaway here: Notice how frequently prepositional phrases (like “into the top corner” or “of the net” or “of a ball”) are expendable in favor of strong details, and how unnecessary adverbs (e.g. “quickly”) are easy cuts.
Line by Line
To make bigger cuts, sometimes you need to strike through an entire sentence, AKA an independent clause.
(If you have no idea what we’re talking about, now’s the time to school yourself on independent clauses, which can stand on their own as complete sentences. Your college professors will appreciate it.)
Where do you see an independent clause that could go?
“When I started wearing a mask in public, at the very beginning of the pandemic when no one else was, most of the people that I knew at school were extremely supportive about my situation, but a few people did not understand. Some people snapped my mask straps or whispered and pointed as I walked by.”
Hint: where is there repetition of an idea? Maybe a summary of something that’s already shown with a great example?
“When I started wearing a mask in public, at the very beginning of the pandemic when no one else was, most of the people that I knew at school were extremely supportive about my situation, but a few people did not understand. Ssome people snapped my mask straps or whispered and pointed as I walked by.”
“A few people did not understand” is an independent clause that could go. Why? The example of the mask-snapping, whispering, pointing classmates does the job for us, and does it better. It’s clear to the reader that they did not understand, not in the least.
In other words, you can trust the reader to get the point if the details rock.
But we figure you saw some other places to cut, too, right? Everything else we suggest below is implied: that she’s in public, that it’s school
“When I started wearing a mask in public, at the very beginning of the pandemic when no one else was, most of the people that I knew at school were extremely supportive about my situation, but a few people did not understand. Ssome people snapped my mask straps or whispered and pointed as I walked by.”
Key takeaway: keep an eye out for independent clauses/complete sentences that are effectively redundant.
Idea by Idea
Every example above is, in a way, essentially a version of this fourth strategy: cutting repeated content. One general principle to keep in mind for every revision is redundancy. Where do you use different words—whether a single word, a phrase, or a sentence—to restate an idea that’s already said?
What if you’d written all this, in the fever of an early draft? (Which, btw, is fine—that’s what early drafts are for.)
“I couldn’t believe that I would be stuck handling prom preparations all by myself, solo, and without anyone to rely on.”
… pretty sure you got it the first time, right?
How about instead
“I couldn’t believe that I’ would be stuck handling prom preparations all by myself, solo, and without anyone to rely on.”
Cutting and the Art of Replacement
When professionals cut, they rewrite, too. They find new, pithier words, phrases, and sentences to say it shorter, which is what admission officers want: more Hemingway, less Herman Melville. So this is a core skill that you will find yourself using to drop word count effectively.
Original:
“One doctor's appointment for my semi-annual thyroid check would lead to me being told that I would have to take daily medicine.”
New:
“One doctor's appointment for my semi-annual thyroid check would lead to me being told that reveal I would have to take daily medicine.”
The student found one word to do the work of several.
Several students since have suggested other cuts, which is cool, because another pair of eyes can often see what we can’t.
“One doctor's appointment for my semi-annual thyroid check would lead to me being told that reveal I’would have to take daily medicine.”
Again, make it a game—you’ve got lots of options to explore.
So get to cutting
Don’t do so too early in the process, but keep in mind, cutting can be a great brain break when you’re blocked on how to generate new ideas and other essays. If you know for a fact you’ve overwritten, you can switch gears and cut.
Just be sure to keep your most memorable details and voice intact.
Students: Try Some Exercises:
Practice with some examples below and see how your cuts compare to ours.
Choose an overwritten section of your essay and apply the strategies.
Exercise:
Try cutting word by word, phrase by phrase, line by line, and idea by idea. Keep in mind there is more than one way to cut.
Sample:
When I got cut from cross country and had to face the fact I couldn’t do varsity, I had a crossroads to face. Should I audition for the school play? Should I risk humiliation and falling on my face in front of new peers and a theater director I really didn’t know? Should I subject myself to the slings and arrows of stage fright and start taking Pepto Bismol in the wings? Of course, I was assuming I’d make it that far—truth be told, maybe I wouldn’t even get past callbacks—but the reality was, I was no longer an athlete, I was an actor in waiting, and hoping to find a new identity. I needed to embrace a new set of skills and artistry and redefine myself as a thespian.
Answers below.
COUNSELORS: NEED A COURSE?
Check out our Practical Strategies Course to learn further strategies and tactics for coaching students to revise effectively.
Answers
Sample 1:
When I got cut from varsity cross country and had to face the fact I couldn’t do varsity, I had was at a crossroads to face. Should I audition for the school play? Should I risk humiliation and falling on my face in front of new peers and a theater director I really didn’t know? Should I subject myself to the slings and arrows of stage fright and start taking Pepto Bismol in the wings? Of course, I was assuming I’d make it that far—truth be told, maybe I wouldn’t even get past callbacks—but the reality was, I was no longer an athlete, I was an actor in waiting, and hoping to find a new identity. I needed to embrace a new set of skills and artistry and redefine myself as a thespian.
Or 2:
After being When I got cut from cross country and had to face the fact I couldn’t do varsity, I faced had a crossroads to face. Should I audition for the school play? Should I risk humiliation and falling on my face in front of new peers and a theater director I really didn’t know? Should I subject myself to the slings and arrows of stage fright, and start taking Pepto Bismol in the wings? Of course, I was assuming I’d make it that far—truth be told, maybe I wouldn’t even get past callbacks—but the reality was, I was no longer an athlete, I was an actor in waiting, and hoping to find a new identity. I needed to embrace a new identity set of skills and artistry and redefine myself as a thespian.
Or… (Again, you have lots of options in this game. Have fun.)
Written by Lyn Fairchild Hawks, founder of Success Story essay consulting. Lyn is a graduate of Stanford University and the Vermont College of Fine Arts program in Writing for Children and Young Adults. She loves helping students tell cinematic, insightful stories. She is also the author of young adult novels, short stories, and books for educators, including lessons for teaching Shakespeare. For 15 years she designed and ran online programs for gifted youth at Duke University and prior to that, served as a high school and middle school English teacher. She lives in Chapel Hill, NC.
Top Values: Creativity | Empathy | Productivity
And
Andy Simpson has worked as an educator, consultant, and curriculum writer for the past 15 years, and earned degrees from Stanford in Political Science and Drama. He feels most at home on mountain tops and in oceans.
Top Values: Insight/Growth | Truth | Integrity
