Inspiration from W. C. Heinz, sportswriter

W. C. Heinz (pictured), who died in 2008 at the age of 93, was an impressive and influential sportswriter. He is especially remembered for the column “Death of a Racehorse,” which he wrote on deadline, in “about an hour, one draft, on a manual typewriter, in the rain,” at the racetrack.

The Takeaway: If you are a budding writer, you will be inspired by “Death of a Racehorse.” It has been called the “Gettysburg Address of sportswriting.” Read the full text, plus commentary, here.

Thanks to Paul G. Henning for pointing me to this gem.

 See disclaimer.

How to make your writing more readable (1)

Rudolf Flesch

Many people have asked me how they can make their writing more readable; more like conversation; easier to follow. A good question and a good goal.

I’ll cover the most important tips in a moment. But first, read this extremely readable sample:

“Yes. Many of us are angry. Not all the time, not so we can’t manage daily life, not to the extent that we cannot love, not so much that we are on the verge of psychotic actions. But yes, there is cause for anger among today’s men.

“We are angry that our children are so easily taken from us, and so easily trained to believe that we abandoned them. We are angry that our sexuality and our anatomy are the butt of constant abusive jokes. We are angry that so few women take us seriously, because, well, they know they don’t have to. We are angry over being blamed for all the evil in the world, evil that harms us as much as anyone else. We are angry at being told for a lifetime that it is our fault that women cannot have everything they demand, and angry that it is never noticed how hard we try to help them with that.”

Those are the first 165 words of a 794-word essay. The rest of it is here.

On the Flesch Reading Ease (FRE) scale, the sample scores a towering 75.2, which is easier to read than Reader’s Digest, which is specifically edited for readability. In short, writing aimed at grown-ups doesn’t get any more readable than this sample.

OK. How did the author achieve it?

Short words, on average: Flesch says the average word length in the sample is 3.9 characters. That’s very short.

A good mix of long and short words: There are lots of one- and two-syllable words, a few three-syllable  words (e.g., “psychotic”), a couple of four-syllable words (e.g., “anatomy”), and one five-syllable word (“sexuality”). Note that the four- and five-syllable words are familiar words.

Short sentences, on average: Flesch say the average sentence length in the sample is 18.0 words. That’s short to medium for English.

Good composition: In the third sentence, the author makes good use of the rhetorical device anaphora, using the word not four times. This device makes the longish (31-word) sentence easy to follow. He uses anaphora again in the second paragraph to guide the reader through:  “We are angry… We are angry… We are angry… We are angry… We are angry… ”

Good tone: The opening is stark, almost belligerent: “Yes. Many of us are angry.” That certainly gets the reader’s attention, but it may make him fear the author will go into a rage. So the author wisely softens the tone immediately with the four not’s and with the circumlocution “But yes, there is cause for anger among today’s men,” which (probably intentionally) does not have man or men as the subject of a verb. This deft early maneuvering assures the reader that the author is going to speak steadily and control himself.

And he does. Read the rest of the essay.

There is more to say about this little masterpiece, but I have covered the key points and I’m running long here.

The Takeaway: It is possible to make your writing more readable. Much more. If you keep reading good writers and keep Flesch-testing the readability of your own writing, you will steadily improve. You will probably surprise yourself at how far you go. If you are serious about readability, I suggest you start your course of improvement by reading all my posts about readability (scroll down to the LABELS and click on “READABILITY”). Then start getting into the habit of using Flesch every day. You can do it!

See disclaimer.

Concise advice to writers (1) – Thomas Woods

The historian and prolific author Thomas Woods (pictured) recorded a 20-minute podcast titled “On Becoming a Better Writer” and published it December 23.

You will never hear better advice.

Mr. Woods offers bluntly stated encouragement: if you keep reading good writers, keep writing diligently, and keep comparing your work to the work of good writers, you will become a better writer. But along the way, the comparisons will embarrass you.

Mr. Woods has, besides his bluntness, two other traits that I like: he is sincerely, charmingly self-deprecating and he is an admirer of Thomas Sowell, my favorite columnist.

The Takeaway: Listen to Mr. Woods’ podcast. If you are serious, it will encourage you – maybe even thrill you. But if you have romanticized and trivialized the craft of writing, his podcast may offend and discourage you. If you want to try a sample, start listening at 3:58.

See disclaimer.

Poor composition (2)

Poor composition can confuse our readers (or listeners).

Example

“Another crippling factor of student loan debt is that it’s not eligible to be discharged by declaring bankruptcy. While not affecting a great number of people, you never know when something catastrophic could come along and you need the fresh start that bankruptcy sometimes provides for those in dire straits.” (Boldface in original) (Source)

Analysis

The reader looks around for the subect of “affecting” and finally lands on “something.” To me that seems the least illogical of the choices. If that is what the writer meant, I suggest this improvement: “Although it is unlikely, a catastrophe could come along...”

Example

“I feel rejuvenated. I feel excited about this opportunity. In a lot of ways, I feel like it’s my first year all over again in the sense that I feel like I’ve got a new energy. I say that in the positive light in the sense of being reenergized. Situations happen and you get released; it makes you look inside yourself a little bit and really analyze the situations and what could have been handled better. It was a little bit of a hard time when I was in limbo, but now that I’m back learning and working every day, I feel really energized.” (Source)

Analysis

The listener wonders why the speaker used a lot of words (104, to be precise) to say “I’m happy to be here.”

Thanks to Paul. G. Henning for pointing out the second example.

The Takeaway: Be careful in your composition.

See disclaimer.

Don’t undermine yourself (2)

Writers sometimes undermine themselves in their titles and introductions. Let me give you a quick example:

While surfing for information on measuring the value of public relations, I saw an article with this title:

“My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys… err… PR Measurement Pros.”

I thought:

He sounds foolish, but I’ll give him one paragraph before I decide whether to quit.

His introductory paragraph:

“Not too long ago, PR News Online published a fun piece about PR superheroes. I loved this story because I’ve always wanted to be a superhero. It made me believe that one day, if I try hard enough and excel in my career, I might be able to gain PR superhero recognition and be invited to join the Justice League… OK, OK, never mind; my kids have me grounded enough to know this is highly unlikely. Though I may never gain superhero status, I have devoted some time to searching for a few real life PR superheroes.” (Links in original omitted here.)

I thought:

His use of fun as an adjective makes him sound childish.

In “I’ve always wanted be a superhero,” he uses present perfect tense, which implies that he, a putative adult, still wants to be a superhero.

He incongruously inserts contrived dialog (“OK, OK, never mind”). Apparently he is unaware how blasted annoying this device is, or how fatuous it makes him sound.

His statement “my kids have me grounded enough” sounds like he’s trying to abase himself. How embarrassing.

I turned to another article, by another writer, on the same topic.

The Takeaway: Remember, intelligent readers judge you by your diction and composition. They do it to avoid wasting time. If they notice that your title or introduction makes you sound immature, ill-educated or neurotic, they (correctly or incorrectly) conclude that the rest of your piece will be silly, incoherent, long-winded, tangential and confusing. Therefore they conclude that you are not a credible source of information and they stop reading right there. So give yourself a chance; build your credibility by using good diction and composition, especially in your title and introduction.

See disclaimer.

How to write a sentence (parody)

In case you missed it. The New Yorker (may require subscription) ran a wonderful parody of an instructional article about writing a sentence. Here’s a sample:

Why sentences? Well, that question answers itself, really. Look at it: “Why sentences?” There’s something missing, isn’t there? I’ll tell you: yes. What’s missing is the rest of the words. And it’s shoddy. It’s shoddy and lazy. It’s shoddy and lazy and frustrating, sticking out there like a bad piece of junk. I’m disappointed on both our behalves.

The Takeaway: Have fun finding the errors in the parody. To read an example of an inadvertent self-parody (also on the topic of writing), go here.

See disclaimer.

Placement of modifiers (28)

David Weidman

Careless placement of a modifier can make a sentence unclear.

Example

“David Weidman, the UPA animation artist whose mid-century style silkscreened prints found a new appreciation in recent years, died Wednesday. He was 93 and had lived in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles in a house he built himself since the 1950s.” (Source) (Thanks to Paul G. Henning for spotting this in Variety.

Analysis

The reader may think that Mr. Weidman had been building his house for six decades. A clearer version of this passage would be:

David Weidman, the UPA animation artist whose mid-century style silkscreened prints found a new appreciation in recent years, died Wednesday.  He was 93. Since the 1950s he had lived in the Highland Park neighborhood of Los Angeles in a house he built himself.

Example

“By promoting to men the message that their own sex is full of rapists, abusers and pedophiles, men will be less inclined to identify with other men, or with men in general, and will feel much less in the way of mutual support or sympathy.” (Source) (Italics in original)

Analysis

The reader may think that the phrase “By promoting…” modifies “will be less inclined…” But he quickly recognizes the meaning as illogical. A clearer and more logical version of this passage would be:

By promoting to men the message that their own sex is full of rapists, abusers and pedophiles, feminists will more successfully prevent men from identifying with other men (or with men in general) and from obtaining mutual support or sympathy.

Example

“Constantly decried as racists by a bien-pensant elite, the overwhelming evidence is that, until recently, Britons have absorbed seismic shifts in this country’s ethnic make-up with remarkable patience and good humour.” (Source)

Analysis

The reader may not easily recognize that the phrase “Constantly decried…” actually modifies “Britons.” A clearer version of this passage would be:

The overwhelming evidence is that Britons, constantly decried as racists by a bien-pensant elite, have until recently absorbed seismic shifts in this country’s ethnic make-up with remarkable patience and good humour.

The Takeaway: Carefully place every modifier as close as possible to what it modifies. When you place a modifier carelessly, you force your readers to guess what you mean. Yes, it’s true that the guessing usually takes only a few seconds and usually is successful. However, you should not be forcing your readers to guess at all. If you force them more than a few times, they may become irritated. If you persist, they may assume you are inconsiderate or stupid or both. They may decide never again to read anything with your name on it. I’m not kidding; many readers will do that, especially the more intelligent readers.

See disclaimer.

Don’t worry about big, conspicuous errors

Do you worry that someday you’ll make a big, conspicuous error and embarrass yourself publicly?

Stop worrying about that.

If you write a lot, you almost certainly will make such an error someday, but you shouldn’t feel too embarrassed when it happens. You see, if you have made a habit of clear writing, your loyal readers will chuckle at, and immediately forgive you for, the occasional big error.*

If you must worry about something, worry about leaving a residue of small errors in every paragraph, bogging down your reader. Most readers do not forgive that.

A recent article, “Arne Duncan vs. Oklahoma,” illustrates what I mean. Here are the first four paragraphs of the article (minus the links), with my comments:

“In yet another stunning example of his lack of knowledge about life outside the elitist Washington bubble, [United States Secretary of Education] Arne Duncan came out swinging at Oklahoma governor Mary Fallin during a press conference yesterday (6/9) for signing the bill (HB3399) to end the Common Core State Standards initiative in Oklahoma.”

The phrase “came out swinging” is ambiguous: What exactly did Mr. Duncan say or do?

“Apparently, pure politics caused the governor (current Chair of the National Governor’s Association, who along with the Council of Chief School Officers propelled a set of education standards into national lexicon) to abandon Common Core for her state.  Apparently the thousands of parents who wrote letters, sent emails and called Governor Fallin’s office urging her to sign HB3399 during the interim between passage (5/23) and signing (6/5), have been downgraded to political widgets in a game of chicken between a state and the federal government.”

The reader has to read quite a lot of this paragraph before he recognizes that the author is being ironic.

“It’s interesting how quickly the anti-Common Core forces, once vilified as ‘conspiracy theorists’, ‘fearmongers’ and ‘liars’ have become vindicated since – and by Duncan’s own hand no less.  Duncan’s latest temper tantrum can’t help but make it readily apparent to even the passing skeptic that there must be something to the legions of arguments connecting Common Core and federal overreach into public education.”

The reader wonders how these “anti-Common Core forces” are related to “the thousands of parents who wrote letters…”

“Truly, no one (including the Fordham Institute or Bill Gates) has been able to effectively mount an argument supporting the stake the U.S. Department of Education has in Oklahoma’s education standards. Really, what does Arne Duncan care what standards Oklahoma uses to educate its children? What difference can it mean to Duncan?”

It is difficult for the reader to infer a connection between the first sentence and the second and third sentences. My guess is that the author is trying to say, “The U.S. Department of Education has no stake in Oklahoma’s education standards, so Mr. Duncan should mind his own business and stop threatening Governor Fallin.”

The rest of the article is similarly confusing. In almost every paragraph, something impedes the reader: an awkward sentence, an overloaded sentence, an ambiguous verb, a confusing transition, a misplaced modifier.

The Takeaway: Put your energy into making every paragraph readable and clear. Your reader will notice and appreciate it. If you leave a residue of small errors in paragraph after paragraph, your reader will tire of slogging through it. He may even vow never to read another piece with your name on it.

See disclaimer.

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*I relate this personal example in all modesty: Decades ago I was a PR man for Honeywell. One day, while I was visiting with the editor of a trade magazine, I noticed a Honeywell press release posted on a bulletin board. Looking more closely, I recognized it as a release in which I had made a grammar error – in the headline! I groaned. The editor smiled, shook his head, and said, “We see errors like this every day. This one was worth posting because it was from you.”

A clear piece of political writing (2)

The mayor of Seattle signs the city's minimum-wage ordinance.

Most people who write about politics use too many arcane words, long sentences, circumlocutions, and uninhabited clauses. They don’t use enough concrete examples. Usually they are careless with their sentence structure, the organization of their paragraphs, and the flow of their entire text. These vices make their writing difficult to read and understand.

Today I show you a nice exception: a brief political news item that is well written, readable and clear: “Labor Supporters Hail Seattle’s Landmark $15/hour wage,” written by Matthew Rothschild and published in The Progressive.

Mr. Rothschild has many virtues, as demonstrated in this news item. He uses a good mix of short and long sentences. His sentence structure and flow are good. He writes in a straightforward manner. The quotations are good. It is a smooth piece of political writing – smooth in the good sense, meaning that the reader glides right through it. (By the way, if you are a beginning writer, be aware that all this is harder than it looks.)

For the record, the article is 379 words long and merits a very good Flesch Reading Ease (FRE) score of 56.0, slightly more readable than Time magazine. Some details: words per sentence, 18.0; characters per word, 4.7; passive sentences, 4%.

I do not know or care whether the article is accurate or inaccurate, or even whether it is honest or dishonest; I am interested in the article only as an example of relatively clear writing.

The Takeaway: Whatever your opinions on the minimum wage, progressive politics or Seattle may be, temporarily turn off the political part of your mind (important) and just the read the article for its diction. If you have the time, read it twice. This kind of exercise helps you improve your writing.

See disclaimer.

The "Ten Best Sentences"

In case you missed it: The editors of The American Scholar selected the “Ten Best Sentences” in English-language literature and published their selections.

Writing teacher Roy Peter Clark wrote a blog post offering “brief interpretations... on how and why these sentences work.”

The Takeaway: Read the ten best sentences silently. Then read them aloud. Then read Mr. Clark’s interpretations. Keep the URLs handy and review the sentences and interpretations from time to time. This kind of reading will slowly and steadily make you a better writer.

See disclaimer.

A clear piece of political writing

I select many of my examples of unclear writing from political writing. Here’s why:

Most political writers prefer long words to short words, arcane words to common words, long sentences to short sentences, and circumlocutions to straightforward language. They also favor passive voice to active voice, uninhabited clauses to inhabited clauses, and abstract examples (or no examples) to concrete examples. Usually they are careless with their sentence structure, the organization of their paragraphs, and the flow of their entire text.

These vices make their writing difficult to read and understand.

Today I show you the opposite: a political article that is relatively easy to read and understand: “Just Another Narrative About Privilege,” by Rosslyn Smith. She has not done a perfect job (who does?) but she has taken pains to make her article readable and clear.

For the record, the article is 1,001 words long and its Flesch Reading Ease (FRE) score is 44.9, which is approximately as readable as The Wall Street Journal.

I do not know or care whether the article is accurate or inaccurate, or even whether it is honest or dishonest; I am interested in the article only as an example of fairly good writing.

The Takeaway: Whatever your opinions on class and politics may be, temporarily turn off the political part of your mind (important) and just the read the article for its diction. If you have the time, read it twice. This kind of exercise helps you improve your writing.

See disclaimer.

Avoiding shifts that impede your readers

In four previous posts, we have discussed the common mistake of unnecessarily changing from one grammatical person to another. For example, an executive of a publishing house said:

“It was not a book where a whole house [third person] runs out and pushes like crazy, and you [second person] have to have success right away, because you [second person] spent all this money.” (See post.)

This unnecessary change, or shift, confuses and impedes the reader.

There are also other kinds of shifts. Towson University, as part of its Online Writing Support, includes a very helpful page on seven kinds of shifts: shifts in tense, voice, mood, person, number, discourse and sentence construction. The page includes illustrative examples of each.

Nice work, Towson.

The Takeaway: When you have a chance, read the whole page. From time to time, review it.

See disclaimer.

The "worst of all possible novels"

I just saw the 2014 results of the Lyttle Lytton Contest. In this annual contest, which is run by the multitalented writer Adam Cadre (pictured), each entrant tries to “compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels.”

It is a contest of, in Mr. Cadre’s words, “intentional unintentional comedy.” He explains that “an entry is ridiculous, yet plausible enough that we can laugh at the imaginary author who wasn’t trying to be funny, while simultaneously laughing with the real author who was clever enough to invent that imaginary author.” 

The winning entry for 2014 was:

“Together, we will beat them all,” she whispered, caressing the circlet-girt fontanelles of her #royalbaby.

And here’s one of the runners-up:

As we gazed into each other’s eyes, Colin moved the front bits of my hair off my face and put them with my other hair.

And one more:

It was 1995 the year the soccer teams came, kicking their balls, to town.

The Takeaway: If you enjoy this sort of thing, read the 2014 results. They include not only the best entries but also Mr. Cadre’s witty comments about how he chose them.

See disclaimer.

Simplifying: making technical information easy to read

If you are a beginning writer, you are probably learning that it is surprisingly difficult to simplify technical information. In other words, it’s hard to make technical information easy to read.

Unfortunately, the ability to simplify technical information usually takes many years to acquire. I don’t say this to discourage you; it’s just a fact.

Fortunately, there is a bright side: You eventually will become really good at simplifying. It doesn’t require any special gifts. Just practice and feedback.

One writer who is very good at simplifying is Andrew Beyer (pictured), a journalist for the Washington Post. He has been writing articles and books about horse race betting for decades. A few days before the 2014 Kentucky Derby, he wrote an article on the role of pace:

He takes one paragraph to introduce the topic of pace:

The best horse doesn’t necessarily win the Kentucky Derby. Sometimes the best horse is trounced, because the outcome of the race can be dramatically affected by the early pace. Even though California Chrome is the most accomplished horse in 140th Derby, his chances may hinge on the way the first half mile of the race is run.

Then he takes a paragraph to describe pace generally:

All horseplayers know the axioms of pace handicapping: When a horse takes the early lead without much pressure, setting a slow pace, he will have strength in reserve to fend off the challenges of stretch runners. Conversely, when the early leaders battle each other and run too fast, they are apt to weaken and set the stage for stretch runners.

Then he explains why pace is especially important in the Derby:

These truths apply at every level of the sport, but they are especially important in the Derby. With its now-customary 20-horse fields, more front-running types are apt to be in the Derby than in a normal race. Because of the oversize fields, jockeys may have to hustle their horses early to secure a decent tactical position.

It is easy to follow what he is saying, even if you’ve never handicapped a race.

The Takeaway: The ability to simplify is one of those abilities that you acquire slowly and steadily. If you are a beginning writer, have patience. Keep seeking feedback from editors and readers. Over time, you will become highly skilled at simplifying.

Thanks to Paul G. Henning for pointing out the article.

See disclaimer.

If your introduction is long, it had better be good

When you’re writing a piece of nonfiction – such as an article or a blog post – you should keep your introduction brief: less than 20 percent of the whole. Why? Because the reader wants to quickly get to the topic that your headline promises.

Are there exceptions to this rule? Yes. One major exception is entertainment value. If your introduction (1) is entertaining and (2) is relevant to the topic and (3) is not narcissistic, readers will be willing to put up with it for longer.

Theodore Dalrymple (pictured above) gave us a great example recently, in his book review of Capital in the Twenty-First Century, by the French economist Thomas Piketty (pictured below).

In the introduction, Mr. Dalrymple is self-deprecatory, cynical and witty. Here’s a sample:

“The success of others breeds resentment, especially success in a field in which one would like to succeed oneself. Whenever I read a wonderful passage of prose I experience pleasure, of course, but before long it is commingled with irritation and finally resentment. Why should this fellow be able to put something more elegantly, more wittily, more poetically, more concisely, than I ever could? What did he ever do to deserve his talent? Fortunate it is indeed for writers in English that Dickens, for example, was possessed of so many and such serious faults, for otherwise the self-evident and transcendent genius of some passages would paralyze the writers and sap their will to put pen to paper, or finger to keyboard.”

He continues like this for 299 words, approximately 24 percent of the whole. But most readers will be pleased to be entertained for that long.

Later, in the main text, Mr. Dalrymple treats us to a wonderful morsel of concentrated cynicism: After explaining that the economics book is so hot that it’s out of stock everywhere, he writes,

“This is truly astonishing, for Thomas Piketty is no Dan Brown, purveying overtly superstitious twaddle in execrable prose to the post-religiously credulous.”

The Takeaway: Limit the length of your introduction to less than 20 percent of the whole, unless you have a specific, conscious reason why you should run longer. For example, you may wish to entertain your readers or you may need to give them context, definitions, or technical background.

See disclaimer.

Placement of modifiers (26)

Hubble Space Telescope

Careless placement of a modifier can make a sentence unclear.

Example

“Don’t buy anything new until you’ve considered whether or not you need it for 48 hours.” (Source)

The reader may, at first glance, think the phrase “for 48 hours” modifies the nearest verb, “need.” But then the reader recognizes that that meaning is unlikely, looks farther back in the sentence, and sees that “for 48 hours” more likely modifies the next-nearest verb, “considered.”

A clearer placement would be:

“Don’t buy anything new until you’ve considered for 48 hours whether or not you need it.” 

Example

“Astronomers from the University of Chicago have used the Hubble Space Telescope to observe the weather on a ‘super-Earth’ planet orbiting a distant star for the first time.” (Source) (A link in the original is omitted here.)

The reader may, at first glance, think the phrase “for the first time” modifies “orbiting.” But then the reader recognizes that that meaning is absurd, looks farther back in the sentence, and sees that “for the first time” more likely modifies “observe.”

A clearer placement would be:

“Astronomers from the University of Chicago have used the Hubble Space Telescope to observe, for the first time, the weather on a ‘super-Earth’ planet orbiting a distant star.”

Example

“President Barack Obama recently wrote an executive order that established a White House initiative on educational excellence for black Americans that will be housed in the Department of Education.” (Source)

The reader may, at first glance, think the phrase “that will be housed in the Department of Education” modifies “black Americans.” But then the reader recognizes that that meaning is absurd, looks farther back in the sentence, and sees that “that will be housed in the Department of Education” more likely modifies “initiative.”

A clearer placement would be:

“President Barack Obama recently wrote an executive order that established a White House initiative on educational excellence for black Americans. The initiative will be housed in the Department of Education.”

The Takeaway: Place every modifier as close as possible to what it modifies. Sloppy placement of modifiers forces your readers to guess what you mean. Yes, it’s true that the guessing usually takes only a second or two and usually is successful. However, you should not be forcing your readers to guess at all. If you force them to guess more than a few times, they may become irritated. They may assume you are inconsiderate or stupid or both. They may even become less willing to read anything with your name on it.*

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*For example, when a writer keeps forcing me to guess, I never read him again unless he’s a paying client.

Thanks to Christa Sammons for spotting the second example.

See disclaimer.

Poor composition

Poor composition almost always confuses readers. Here’s an example of poor composition:

In an article titled “How to De-Crapify Your Home: A Start-to-Finish Guide,” the writer uses these words to introduce four policies for avoiding the accumulation of new clutter after you have de-cluttered your home:

“You may have heard that you should toss it if you haven’t used it in the last year. This is true, but that’s a very reasonable attitude to take with your stuff. If you have a tendency to keep things you don’t need, you need policies a bit more strict and timely than that. Live by these instead: [then he lists his four policies]”

When the reader arrives at the end of the first sentence, he assumes that the sentence is a straw man that the writer will immediately refute. So, when the reader sees, “This is true, but that’s a very reasonable attitude,” he becomes confused, because:

• The writer has not clearly refuted the straw man;

• The pronouns “this” and “that” may refer to the same thing or two different things.

• It seems illogical that the clause “that’s a very reasonable attitude” is preceded by the conjunction “but.” Isn’t a reasonable attitude a good thing?

The reader silently asks, “Where is this writer going?”

If you click through to the article, you will see that it would read better if this introduction were entirely deleted.

The Takeaway: As a writer, you may know where you’re going, but your reader does not – unless you tell him. In good composition, you continually tell your reader where you’re going, via such techniques as logical sequence,* clear transitions, parallel construction, and consistent nomenclature. When your composition is good, your readers glide effortlessly through your writing and are surprised and delighted at how quickly they finish reading it.

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*For example, from the past to the present (chronological), from left to right, from top to bottom, from the general to the specific, and from the less important to the more important. There are many types of sequences to choose from; just make sure that you stick with the sequence you have chosen (the flashback is an allowable exception to this rule).

See disclaimer.

Concise writing is usually clear writing (37) – John Derbyshire

The controversial mathematician, author and essayist John Derbyshire (pictured) provides a good example of concision and clarity in this response to a reader’s point:

• Reader’s point: Seems you really don’t want to associate with NAMs.  [I.e. Non-Asian Minorities, 32.9 — JD]

• Author’s reply:     Let me tell you who I want to associate with: people like me.

What’s the criterion for “people like me”? Obviously it isn’t race, or I would have made a different choice of marriage partner [Mr. Derbyshire’s wife is Chinese — Mr. C.]. Obviously it isn’t nationality, or I would never have left my home country [He moved from the United Kingdom to the USA — Mr. C.]. It’s not religion, either: my friends run the gamut from High Church Anglican to Falun Gong. It isn’t even politics: my wife, most of our neighbors, and several of my friends, are political liberals.

The criterion, as nearly as I can pin it down, is: I want to associate with bourgeois people — people whose have bourgeois attitudes and behaviors.

It would, it seems to me, be absurd to avoid association with any individual person because of some accidental quality like race (or nationality, or height, or education, or religious confession, or political affiliation). On the other hand, I would prefer to live my life as far away as possible from people who take illegal drugs, or practice promiscuous sexual behavior, or use bad language in ordinary speech, or don’t consider industrious support of self and family to be an important value, or are uninterested in the glories of Western Civilization, or break the law often enough to make themselves interesting to the police.

Plenty of NAMs are bourgeois, and plenty of non-NAMs are non-bourgeois. The regrettable fact is, though, that the proportion of bourgeois among NAMs is way lower than among non-NAMs — look at the crime statistics. If I practice generalized NAM avoidance, that is the reason. For example, I want my kids to grow up with bourgeois values. My judgment is, that they are more likely to do so if educated in schools with not too many NAM students. (My local high school is actually 35 percent NAM, which is a tad more than I’d like, but the best I can do on my income. Low-NAM school districts, like other much-desired goods of limited supply, are expensive [32.8].)

To judge from the data in my education chapter [122.9 etc.], my preferences in this regard are shared by most Americans. I certainly don’t see anything wrong with such preferences. If you think there’s something wrong with them, tell me what it is. Then, go tell the couple of hundred million Americans who, to judge by patterns of voluntary residential and educational segregation noted in by book, share my preferences.

Analysis: The reader misstated Mr. Derbyshire’s preferences and insinuated his disagreement with the misstated preferences, so Mr. Derbyshire took pains to restate his preferences. His preferences are complex but he stated them clearly and concisely. Then he politely challenged the reader to state (as opposed to insinuate) his disagreement:

If you think there’s something wrong with [my preferences], tell me what it is.

Please keep in mind that this is a blog about clear writing. When I select samples for this blog, it is because the writing is especially clear (or especially unclear). Any opinions expressed in samples are irrelevant to my purpose here. I’m not pushing opinions; I’m pushing clear writing.

The Takeaway: To improve the clarity of your writing, spend at least 10 minutes a day reading aloud from writers who write clearly. You will see, hear and feel the stark contrast between careful diction and the scatterbrain diction (sample here) that besets us every day. The topic you select for your reading doesn’t matter, because you’re reading for style not content. If you would like a list of recommended writers and works, please email me at joeroy(at)joeroy(dot)com. Ask for my “List of Writers to Absorb.” I will respond via email.

See disclaimer.

Placement of modifiers (25)

Careless placement of a modifier can make a sentence unclear.

Example

“A truly unfortunate development is the compulsion to shop among young boys.” (Boldface added.) (Source)

At first the reader thinks that the phrase “among young boys” is an adverbial phrase modifying the nearest verb, “to shop” – meaning that someone (a pedophile?) wants to go shopping in a crowd of young-boy shoppers.

But then the reader sees a more likely interpretation: “among young boys” is an adjectival phrase modifying “compulsion.” The writer has written a confusing sentence. She should have written this:

A truly unfortunate development is the compulsion among young boys to shop.

Or, less awkwardly,

A truly unfortunate development is that young boys are becoming addicted to shopping.

Example

“Daniel Silva delivers another spectacular thriller starring Gabriel Allon, The English Girl.” (Boldface added.) (Source)*

At first the reader thinks that “The English Girl” is in apposition to “Gabriel Allon” – implying that Gabriel Allon is also known as “The English Girl.” This strikes the reader as unlikely.

But then the reader notices the italics and realizes that “The English Girl” is the title of the thriller. The writer should have written:

Daniel Silva delivers another spectacular thriller, The English Girl, starring Gabriel Allon.

Example

“May we include literature that helps guide our business in your shipment?” (Boldface added.) (Source: an on-line order form.)

At first the reader assumes that “in your shipment” is an adverbial phrase modifying the nearest verb, “guide.”

But then the reader sees that the phrase more likely modifies the verb “include.” The writer meant to write:

May we include in your shipment literature that helps guide our business?

The Takeaway: Place every modifier as close as possible to what it modifies. Sloppy placement of modifiers forces your readers to guess what you mean. Yes, it’s true that the guessing usually takes only a second or two and usually is successful. However, you should not be forcing your readers to guess at all. If you force them to guess more than a few times, they may become irritated. They may assume you are inconsiderate or stupid or both. They may even become less willing to read anything with your name on it.**

___________________
*Thanks to Paul. G. Henning for spotting this example.

**For example, when a writer keeps forcing me to guess, I never read him again unless he’s a paying client.

See disclaimer.

Weasel words online

When you buy a ticket online from American Airlines (AA), the AA computer responds with this:

Note: This is not your receipt. You will be receiving your itinerary confirmation along with your receipt soon. You may print your Itinerary & Receipt directly from AA.com once the status is updated from “Ticket Pending” to “Ticketed”.

Except for “AA.com,” these are all familiar English words. But as AA has combined them, the words conceal more information than they reveal. They have become weasel words. Here are the words again, interspersed with the unspoken reactions of an intelligent customer:

Note: This is not your receipt.

Not my receipt? Then what is it, and why are you showing it to me? Where’s my receipt?

You will be receiving

On this page? In an email? In the U.S. Mail?

your itinerary confirmation along with your receipt soon.

“Soon.” Does that mean seconds, minutes, hours or days?

 You may print your Itinerary & Receipt directly from AA.com

Print them from the email you will send me, from this page which is open right now, or – as “directly from AA.com” suggests – by abandoning this page and going to the AA home page? You’re confusing me.

once the status is updated from “Ticket Pending” to “Ticketed”.

And how will I know when or whether that action has been completed? Will I see some notice on this page, in the email you may or may not send me, or on some page I have to go to after I go back to the home page? How long will it take? I just spent more than a week’s pay for an airplane ticket and you won’t even tell me how or where or when I will receive a receipt? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?

The Takeaway: If you are responsible for the words that your company uses in its online commerce, always keep in mind that you may be insulting thousands of customers every hour. That’s worse than erecting an insulting billboard beside a busy highway. Before you put your words online, have them edited by a careful reader.

See disclaimer.