The uninhabited clause (12) – why it’s dangerous

When you use a lot of uninhabited clauses* – that is, when your prose contains mostly (or only) non-human subjects – you will sound hollow and theoretical.

You will also face an even greater danger: without intending to, you may sound as if you are trying to hide something.

For example, in last Thursday's post, I quoted the president and the marketing vice president of Embotics, a Canadian software company, who were talking – indirectly – about information technology managers who had deployed virtualization technology without having first conducted their customary impact assessments. But the president and the marketing vice president did not mention these real-life people.

The president said:

“Virtualization [did not go] through the normal impact assessments that most technologies have to weather before deployment.”

The marketing vice president said:

“[Virtualization] hadn’t gone through the normal impact assessments that most external data center technologies do before deployment.”

They talked as if virtualization (an abstraction) had evaded the assessments, like a criminal taking a detour to evade a police roadblock.

A more straightforward wording would be:

In their exuberance for virtualization, many IT managers rushed ahead without having made their customary impact assessments. They were taken by surprise when the results fell far short of their expectations.

The Takeaway: If you use a lot of uninhabited clauses, you may sound as if you are trying to hide something. This message (that you are trying to hide something) may overpower the message(s) you intend to convey. Don’t invite suspicion. Put some people in your prose.

See disclaimer.

*An uninhabited clause (my coinage) is a clause with a subject that is a physical thing or a concept, as opposed to a person or group of persons.

Empathy helps you connect with your reader

Empathy helps you connect with your reader. Failure to empathize with the reader is the fundamental error of the careless writer. It is the error on which he builds all his other errors.

I just saw a terrific example of the value of empathy. In a blog post titled “The Worst Sales Email EVER,” inside sales expert Trish Bertuzzi quotes a very un-empathic email she received. She comments, in part:

“There is absolutely nothing in this email to show that the sender took the time to learn anything about me or my business. There are no like-customer references, no acknowledgement of my role or business challenges and the email is filled with marketing speak.”

Read her entire post. It is a practical, real-life lesson in the value of empathy.

The Takeaway: Before writing anything – even an email – build empathy by visualizing your intended reader. And if you are selling something, you need research in addition to empathy.

See disclaimer.

Bad diction: the uninhabited clause (12)

Overuse of the uninhabited clause is a form of bad diction. I use the phrase “uninhabited clause” to describe a clause with a subject that is a physical thing or a concept as opposed to a person or group of persons.*

Last Thursday, in another context, I quoted the president and the marketing vice president of Embotics, a Canadian software company. The same quotations are also excellent examples of uninhabited clauses.

The president said:

“Virtualization came in fast and grew quickly, without going through the normal impact assessments that most technologies have to weather before deployment. One of the outcomes of this is that the impact of virtualization as a new data centre architecture has only surfaced during the growth phase, leading to problems and eventually applying the brakes to the whole initiative – virtual stall.” (61 words)

The president has used two sentences, containing four clauses, containing four subjects. All four subjects are non-human:

virtualization came in and grew
technologies have to weather
one (outcome) is
impact has surfaced

When someone uses mostly (or only) non-human subjects, his writing sounds hollow. He conveys to the reader a sense that “nobody’s doing anything.”

The marketing vice president said:

“Virtualization is a new architecture in data centers, and one that crosses most of the traditional silos. It entered the data center in a different way than most technologies; driven by the potential economic savings associated with consolidation and the value of the flexibility it brings to IT organizations. It was introduced as a top-down initiative aimed at decreasing the ongoing footprint of the data center and preparing for an internal cloud architecture. It came in fast, grew fast, but hadn’t gone through the normal impact assessments that most external data center technologies do before deployment.

“Its impact surfaces during the growth phase, leading to problems and eventually applies the brakes to the whole initiative – also known as virtual stall.” (120 words)

In this longer passage you can clearly hear the hollowness. The marketing vice president has used four sentences, containing eight clauses, containing eight subjects. All eight subjects are non-human:

virtualization is
that (virtualization) crosses
it (virtualization) entered
it (virtualization) brings
it (virtualization) was introduced
it (virtualization) came in but grew and hadn’t gone through
technologies do (go through)
impact surfaces and applies

The Takeaway: Whenever you feel that your prose may sound hollow, conduct this test: Select a paragraph or two. Take out a pen and circle every non-human subject of every main clause. Then read aloud all those non-human subjects and their verbs, as in the list above. If it really sounds hollow, put in some people. It will make your prose feel more substantial to the reader.

See disclaimer.

*In previous posts on this topic, I have defined “uninhabited clause” narrowly as a main clause with a subject that is a physical thing or a concept as opposed to a person or group of persons. To improve readability, I am broadening the definition to include dependent clauses. The definition is now: “An uninhabited clause is a clause with a subject that is a physical thing or a concept as opposed to a person or group of persons.”

Economic metaphors

Economists and financial writers use a lot of metaphors. Unfortunately, these economic metaphors often make a writer’s meaning less clear.

Economist Paul Krugman (pictured), points out an even worse danger than an unclear economic metaphor: a clear but inaccurate metaphor:

“The [Obama-McConnell tax-cut] deal, we’re told, will jump-start the economy; it will give a fragile recovery time to strengthen.

“I say, block those metaphors. America’s economy isn’t a stalled car, nor is it an invalid who will soon return to health if he gets a bit more rest. Our problems are longer-term than either metaphor implies.

“And bad metaphors make for bad policy. The idea that the economic engine is going to catch or the patient rise from his sickbed any day now encourages policy makers to settle for sloppy, short-term measures when the economy really needs well-designed, sustained support.”

Well stated.

The Takeaway: There’s nothing inherently wrong with using economic metaphors (or similes). Just make sure that: (1) they make your assertions clearer, not less clear; and (2) your assertions are accurate.

See disclaimer.

Talking around a definition

(Updated Below, March 9, 2011) Many writers today, unable or unwilling to clearly state a definition, resort to talking around (talking indirectly about) a definition.* If you want to write clearly and persuasively, try to avoid falling into this habit of talking around a definition.

Example of talking around a definition

I wanted a definition of virtual stall, a computer term.

I looked in online dictionaries but found nothing; perhaps the term was too recent. I searched for articles. The first article I found was “Virtual stall: What it is and why you have it.” Its very title promised a definition.

But the text does not provide one. The author (president of Embotics, a Canadian software company) only talks around a definition. This paragraph is the closest he comes to stating a definition:

“Virtualization came in fast and grew quickly, without going through the normal impact assessments that most technologies have to weather before deployment. One of the outcomes of this is that the impact of virtualization as a new data centre architecture has only surfaced during the growth phase, leading to problems and eventually applying the brakes to the whole initiative – virtual stall.”

By placing a dash and “virtual stall” at the end of the paragraph, the author hints that the definition of “virtual stall” is buried somewhere in the preceding phrase, sentence or paragraph. In other words, he expects his readers to dig up and articulate the definition that he promised to deliver to them.

I tried another article, “Q&A: Avoiding VM Stall,” in which the marketing vice president of the same company says:

“Virtualization is a new architecture in data centers, and one that crosses most of the traditional silos. It entered the data center in a different way than most technologies; driven by the potential economic savings associated with consolidation and the value of the flexibility it brings to IT organizations. It was introduced as a top-down initiative aimed at decreasing the ongoing footprint of the data center and preparing for an internal cloud architecture. It came in fast, grew fast, but hadn’t gone through the normal impact assessments that most external data center technologies do before deployment.

“Its impact surfaces during the growth phase, leading to problems and eventually applies the brakes to the whole initiative – also known as virtual stall.”

Whereas the president uses a dash and “virtual stall” to tell the reader where to start digging up and articulating the definition, the marketing vice president unhelpfully (and ungrammatically) adds the phrase “also known as.”

Disgusted, I tried a third article, “From Virtual Sprawl to Virtual Stall.”

The author of this article spends 185 words meandering through the history behind the term virtual stall and making two false starts at a definition. Then he presents what he apparently thinks is a definition. (I have enclosed my comments in brackets.)

“Virtual Stall can be summed up quite easily [Please don’t sum it up; tell us what it is]. The stall happens when [Never mind when it happens; what is it?] a company realizes that it has gone too far too fast with virtualization, which, while it is a good thing to recognize, results in a complete undermining of confidence in completing the rollout.” [So, what is virtual stall?]

That is not a definition. Take another look at the footnote below. A proper definition includes (1) the name of the thing to be defined [“ewe”]; (2) the verb to be, stated or implied [“is”]; (3) a category the reader will recognize [“sheep”]; and (4) one or more modifiers [“female”] that distinguish the thing being defined from other things in the same category [e.g., a ram].

I tried two more articles and then gave up.

The Takeaway: When you write about a topic unfamiliar to your readers, refer your readers to a dictionary definition or define the topic yourself. If you do neither, you will frustrate your intelligent readers. And if you appear to be deliberately teasing them, they will resent it.

See disclaimer.

*Here’s a definition of definition. “Lexical definition specifies the meaning of an expression by stating it in terms of other expressions whose meaning is assumed to be known (e.g., a ewe is a female sheep).” Source: Britannica Concise Encyclopedia.

Update, March 9, 2011, 11:49 AM: In a thoughtful comment, Andi Mann pointed out that he had indeed, in an earlier blog post, supplied a definition of “VM stall.” It is a fine definition; I should not have abandoned my search so soon. Thanks and best wishes to Andi Mann.

Political spokesmen and medieval superstitions

In previous posts, I have shown that politicians are (and corporate spokesmen sometimes are) poor role models for writers. You may have wondered, “What about political spokesmen? They would seem to combine the worst of two worlds.”

You are correct. Here are two (admittedly extreme) statements made by political spokesmen. These two men apparently believe in medieval superstitions.

Example

A public school superintendent explained why he forced a student to remove a U.S. flag from his bicycle:

“Our Hispanic, you know, kids will, you know, bring their Mexican flags and they’ll display it, and then of course the kids would do the American flag situation, and it does cause kind of a racial tension which we don’t really want.” (Boldface added.)

Apparently he believes that pieces of cloth can cause (his word) people to think hostile thoughts.

Example

An article in Salon News explained how some big-city police departments swap used guns (old police guns and guns confiscated from criminals) for new guns. Licensed firearms dealers later resell the used guns to law-abiding shooters.

The article noted that the Los Angeles Police Department (LAPD) refuses to swap confiscated guns, preferring to destroy them instead. An LAPD spokesman said:

“It’s unfortunate because some of them are beautiful guns. But if a gun’s been used to kill someone, they don’t want it out there where it could kill someone else.” (Boldface added.)

Apparently he believes that when someone uses a gun to kill someone, the gun somehow learns how to kill, and can later kill without human help.

The Takeaway: Generally speaking, do not imitate political spokesmen; their statements are usually inaccurate and sometimes delusional. NOTE: If your job requires you to speak with the press, prepare for each interview as follows: Write down the probable questions and your answers. Edit your answers. Ask someone else to edit and fact-check your answers. Memorize your answers. Rehearse them until they sound unrehearsed.

See disclaimer.

Clarity is not an ornament (2) - Lewis Black

A great many people, when they write prose, think clarity is optional. They believe it is an ornament, and that the essence of writing is “just get it down on paper.”

Newsman Frank Rich clearly does not agree with that belief. In an earlier post, I quoted him:

“You’d think after Enron’s collapse that financial leaders and government overseers would question the contents of ‘exotic’ investments that could not be explained in plain English.”

The other day, I learned that comedian Lewis Black (pictured) had also commented on Enron and clear writing:

“You don’t want another Enron? Here’s the law: If you have a company, and it can’t explain, in one sentence, what it does, it’s illegal.”

The Takeaway: Clear writing can be worth a trillion or two. Maybe more.

See disclaimer.

Straight talk: an example (8) – Joseph Sobran

For educational purposes, we writers should occasionally read or listen to an example of straight talk. It doesn’t matter whether we agree or disagree with the statements – what matters is the way the statements are expressed. Reading or hearing straight talk can help make us more aware of the evasive diction that besets us every day, so we won’t unconsciously imitate it.

An example of straight talk

The American columnist Joseph Sobran (1946-2010) was a man of straight talk.

For example, here are the first four paragraphs of his March 7, 2002 column, titled “How Might Makes Right.”

“Whatever they may say, most people assume that might makes right. Abstractly, they may consider this is shocking and cynical doctrine; yet in practice they live by it. In plain language, they go with the winners.

“They take it for granted, for example, that the Civil War proved that the North was right and the South wrong: no state may constitutionally secede from the Union. All the war really proved was what wise men knew at the outset: that Northern industrial superiority was overwhelming. (If the South had won, most people would, with equal illogic, accept that as proof that the South was right.)

“In ratifying the Constitution, the states voluntarily joined a confederated Union; they didn’t give up the “sovereignty, freedom, and independence” they had retained under the Articles of Confederation. Such a radical change would have had to be explicit.

“If secession was to be unconstitutional, the Constitution would have had to forbid it. It would also have had to provide some method of dealing with it if a state seceded anyway. It did neither.”

The Takeaway: Many of us are startled when we read or hear straight talk. We react this way because we have been habituated to euphemistical, effete, evasive diction. I advise you to occasionally read or listen to some straight talk. By contrast, it will help you remain consciously aware of evasiveness – and therefore less likely to unconsciously absorb and imitate evasive diction.

See disclaimer.

The cumulative effect of errors (1)

There is a legal concept called the cumulative effect of errors. One description of this concept is: “In some cases, the cumulation of minor errors may amount to error requiring [a decision by a judge], even if individual errors, alone, would not.” (Via LexisNexis.)

Or informally: Small errors add up.

You have probably noticed an analogous effect in your reading. If an author keeps making errors, eventually you will conclude that he is careless and possibly unreliable – even if none of his errors is a serious error.

Example of the cumulative effect of errors

Here’s an example from a blogger, a former Chicago police officer. He is criticizing the Transportation Security Administration (boldface in original):

“The TSA was created as a new ways to waste billions on government contractor fraud as thousands of hard corps unemployable people were given jobs and the power to abuse and steal the belongings of passengers.

“The cargo side of airline security is not seen by passengers and accordingly is largely ignored. The TSA administration has equated the public perception of their job performance by how much aggravation passengers can be put through.

“To date the TSA or their predecessors have not stopped a single terrorist incident.”

Analysis

Here is the passage again, with my comments interspersed, in brackets:

The TSA was created as a new ways

[Should be way]

to waste billions on government contractor fraud as thousands of hard corps unemployable

[Should be hard-core unemployable]

people were given jobs and the power to abuse and steal the belongings of passengers.

[Does he mean abuse passengers and steal the belongings of passengers, or abuse the belongings of passengers and steal the belongings of passengers?]


The cargo side of airline security is not seen by passengers and accordingly is largely ignored.

[Ignored by passengers or ignored by the TSA?]

The TSA administration

[Redundant; the A in TSA stands for administration]

has equated the public perception of their

[Should be its; in American English, an organization is singular, not plural]

job performance by

[Should be with or and, not by]

how much aggravation

[Should be irritation or a synonym, not aggravation]

passengers can be put through.


To date the TSA or their

[Should be its]

predecessors have not stopped a single terrorist incident.

That’s a total of nine errors in 87 words – on average, one error in every ten words. This is a high rate of error, even by the lax standards of personal blogs.

The Takeaway: As you edit, keep in mind the cumulative effect of errors. The more errors you make, the worse you look – even if none of your errors reduces clarity. Eventually your reader stops reading, at which point the effective clarity of your text drops to zero.

See disclaimer.

Always ask for an edit (1)

When we write for publication, we should always ask for an edit, because an editor can prevent us from embarrassing ourselves.

Ideally the editor would be a professional. Failing that, the editor should be a friend or colleague who is a perceptive reader and who is willing to be candid.

What an editor can catch

In a recent article titled “Dealing With The Bottom Feeders,” a marketing consultant advises his readers to

“…pay attention to what I call USPs (Unique Selling Positions).”

A reader with a generous temperament may think:

I suppose the kindest interpretation of those words is that this consultant does know that advertisers were applying the concept of the Unique Selling Proposition 50 years ago, and therefore he is not claiming it was his concept. But he has developed some variant of the Unique Selling Proposition, which he calls “Unique Selling Positions.” If so, he’s just being careless when he fails to explain all this to us.

The second-kindest interpretation is that he actually thinks he developed and named what the world knows as “Unique Selling Proposition,” and he thinks he named it “Unique Selling Positions.” In this case, he’s being fatuous.

And the third-kindest interpretation is that he is trying to fool us about who developed what. In which case, as much as I regret to think it, he’s being dishonest.

The Takeaway: Like it or not, when we write for publication our readers judge us by our writing. We should always ask for an edit, to prevent us from looking careless, fatuous or dishonest.

See disclaimer.

A few amusing examples of mixed metaphors (10)

Mixed metaphors are often amusing, as these examples illustrate. However, we writers are usually more interested in informing and persuading our readers than in amusing them. Mixed metaphors may distract our readers and impede information and persuasion.

Example of a mixed metaphor

David Stockman (pictured), former Director of the Office of Management and Budget (U.S.), writes, “…the specious ideological shibboleths of both parties will have poisoned the only policy tools… that can make a difference.”

Example of a mixed metaphor

Wallyhood, a blogger, expresses his thanks to his 1,000th Facebook Friend: “As a small token of our appreciation for ushering over the threshold of this milestone…” In a footnote, he thanks his readers for indulging the mixed metaphor.

Example of a mixed metaphor

Paul Kenney, on his “Saturday Football” blog, writes, “The Falcons fly on the legs (I know; mixed metaphor) of the nation’s top ranked rushing attack, which is averaging 326 yards a game.”

The Takeaway: Mixed metaphors often distract your readers. In some cases, they make your prose impossible to understand. Ideally, you should have someone edit your copy. (For some reason, it is often difficult to spot your own mixed metaphors. If a man as brainy as David Stockman can miss his own slips, so can we all.)

See disclaimer.

Elegant variation (2)

Elegant variation is the gratuitous use of synonyms to avoid repetition of a noun or noun phrase. It is common practice among poorly educated writers, who think it is somehow refined.* It is not refined, but it can be confusing, distracting and irritating.

Example of elegant variation

In a wikiHow article titled “How to Solve a Problem,” the authors use obstacle, challenge and issue as synonyms for problem.

As a sample, here are the first 131 words of the article (boldface added):

Problem solving is one of the most essential [sic] skills in life. Regardless of who you are or what you do, you will face obstacles. How you deal with such challenges will often be a determining factor [sic] in how successful you are at life. While problems come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes, this article can give you a rough idea of how to solve one in a general sense.

Steps

1. Approach the issue with clarity. This is the first and most important component to [sic] problem solving. While action and energy can often assist you in overcoming challenges, this effort is a waste if misguided or misplaced. The first step is always to approach any issue in a clear and logical manner, even if under time constraints or pressure.

Analysis of the example

When an intelligent reader encounters “obstacles,” he has to stop reading for a moment, look back, and guess whether the authors intend it as a synonym for “problems.” From the context, he guesses that it could be a synonym for “problems.” Or, the authors might be suggesting that an obstacle could be the occasion of a problem. He continues reading.

When he encounters “challenges,” he stops reading again. The word “such” preceding “challenges” helps him guess that the authors mean “challenges” as a synonym for “obstacles,” which in turn may or may not be a synonym for “problems.” He is becoming distracted, but he continues reading.

In the next sentence, he encounters “problems,” and feels a little better.

Then, in the next paragraph (Step 1), he reads, “Approach the issue with clarity.” His distraction is becoming irritation. He silently asks, “Are they using issue as yet another synonym for problem? “Why are these people fooling around like this? They promised to explain how to solve a problem, and now they’re playing games with me.” He continues reading.

During the remainder of Step 1, he encounters “problem,” “challenges” and “issue.” His irritation is becoming resentment. He silently thinks, “They’re not going to stop this. I’ll just look somewhere else.” He returns to Google to look for another article on how to solve problems.

The Takeaway: Try to avoid elegant variation. If you persistently use elegant variation, you will repel your intelligent readers.

See disclaimer.

*The phrase elegant variation was coined during the 1920s by Henry Watson Fowler, the British philologist and author of A Dictionary of Modern English Usage (1926). At that time, the word elegant connoted over-refinement. That connotation of elegant is now forgotten, so elegant variation has become a confusing misnomer. Today, gratuitous variation would be more accurate; however, elegant variation remains in wide use.

Avoid using multiple hedges (2)

Multiple hedges undermine your credibility. I gave an example of multiple hedges in a previous post. Here’s another example, from a November 11 news story.

An example of multiple hedges in one sentence

A public school superintendent explains why he forced a student to remove a U.S. flag from his bicycle:

“Our Hispanic, you know, kids will, you know, bring their Mexican flags and they’ll display it, and then of course the kids would do the American flag situation, and it does cause kind of a racial tension which we don’t really want.” (Boldface added.)

Analysis

The sentence contains seven hedges.*

First hedge: “you know” (One of the all-time favorite hedges, along with sorta, like, and I’m just saying.)

Second hedge: “you know” (Second instance.)

Third hedge: “the kids” (He calls the students who will display Mexican flags “[o]ur Hispanic… kids.” He calls the students who will display the American flag “the kids”; which kids are they?)

Fourth hedge: “the American flag situation” (He calls Mexican flags “Mexican flags” and calls the American flag “the American flag situation.”)

Fifth hedge: “it” in “it does cause” (The antecedent of this pronoun is crucial to the meaning of the sentence, but he does not specify it. He forces us to guess the antecedent; my guess is “the simultaneous display of flags of more than one nation.”)

Sixth hedge: “kind of a” (Not racial tension, but “kind of a racial tension.”)

Seventh hedge: “don’t really want” (Here, at the end of the sentence, he has an opportunity to make a straightforward statement: We do not want racial tension. But he hedges again.)

My restatement of the sentence

When flags of more than one nation are simultaneously displayed, they cause racial tension, and we do not want racial tension.**

The Takeaway: When listeners hear multiple hedges per sentence, they stop taking you seriously. If you must use hedges, use them sparingly.

See disclaimer.

*I have considered only the hedges; I have not enumerated the superintendent’s grammar errors (for example, a singular pronoun with a plural antecedent) or logic errors (for example, the assertion that pieces of cloth can cause people to think hostile thoughts).

**I am assuming – but cannot be certain – that I have correctly guessed the superintendent’s meaning.

Double negative (2)

Whenever you use a double negative or multiple negative, you risk confusing your reader. Here’s an extreme example:

On October 20, Arsène Wenger (pictured), manager of the Arsenal Football Club (UK), commented on whether Jack Wilshere, a club player, was ready to start for the national team. Reuters said that Mr. Wenger said:

“If you asked me the reverse question, is he not ready to start for England, then it would be difficult to not say no.” (I added the boldface.)

Critique of the example

That sentence contains four negatives and the word difficult. That’s a lot for the reader to sort out.*

But that’s only the first layer of the confusion. If you’re interested in reading about additional layers, read “Difficulty over not saying no on not being ready,” by linguistics scholar Geoffrey K. Pullum.**

The Takeaway: Although they do have legitimate uses, double negatives and multiple negatives often confuse readers. Generally avoid them.

See disclaimer.

*Mr. Wenger is French. Out of courtesy, I usually don’t critique non-native speakers of English. I made an exception in Mr. Wenger’s case because he is fluent and because he may have used the multiple negative deliberately, as a media-relations tactic (see the comments on Mr. Pullum’s article).

**Unlike most academics, Mr. Pullum can write clearly and entertainingly. He is delightful.

Clear out the verbal clutter (3) – a 64-percent reduction

You should always clear out verbal clutter, because verbal clutter confuses and irritates your readers. It is the main reason why people stop reading something you have written. If you become good at clearing out clutter, you will hold readers’ attention longer.

An Example of Verbal Clutter

Clearing out verbal clutter takes less time than most people think. But it does require some patience. The best way is to proceed methodically and slowly. Here’s an example:

I saw a wordy article about how to clear a jam in a paper shredder. The article was loaded with redundancies, circumlocutions, unnecessary information, and excessive ornamentation.* I thought it would provide an instructive example.

The original article is 528 words long. I proceeded word by word and phrase by phrase, at a slow-to-moderate pace. After 15 minutes, in one pass, I had cut the length of the text by 64 percent, to 191 words.**

My Rewrite, Clearing Out the Verbal Clutter

Even if you own a high-quality shredder, and you oil and maintain it regularly, eventually you will have to clear a jam. Jams are usually easy to clear, provided you follow these steps.

Unplug the shredder and let it cool.

Plug it in and press the “reverse” button for a few seconds; the shredder may eject the jammed paper. (Don’t hold the button for longer than a few seconds; you could burn out the motor.)

If the paper does not eject, pull out the plug and use a pair of tweezers to try to gently remove the jammed paper. (Be careful: metal objects can damage the shredder blades.)

If you can’t remove the jammed paper, soak it with oil. Allow the oil to saturate the paper for about 15 minutes. Then repeat the two previous steps.

If you are still unsuccessful, refer to your owner’s manual or call for professional help.

To prevent jams, regularly oil the shredder blades, put the machine in reverse for about 15 seconds, and feed it a few sheets of paper to absorb excess oil. Remember to keep oil handy, for maintenance and for clearing jams.

The Takeaway: To hold readers’ attention, clear out the verbal clutter.

See disclaimer.

*Here’s an example of excessive ornamentation: adding “on your hands” to “you might have a more serious problem.” Now, there is nothing inherently wrong with this ornament, and I do not intend to hamper the author’s style; however, ornaments should be used in moderation. In instructional text, ornamentation should be minimal or nonexistent – especially in a case like this one, in which the length is triple what it should be.

**A reduction this large is not unusual. Wordy writers always use at least twice as many words as they need; therefore a capable editor can always cut at least 50 percent on the first pass, without even working hard.

Politicians are poor role models for writers (2) – Robert M. Gates

If you want to write clearly, accurately and honestly, don’t imitate politicians. They are poor role models for writers.

For example, on September 29, 2010, U.S. Secretary of Defense Robert M. Gates (pictured) delivered a lecture at Duke University. During the lecture he twice referred to the oath sworn by U.S. soldiers, sailors and marines:

“...the relationship between those in uniform and the wider society they have sworn to protect.”

...

“…a cadre of military leaders that politically, culturally, and geographically have less and less in common with the people they have sworn to defend.”

But those people have not sworn to protect “the wider society” or to defend “the people.” They have sworn to

“support and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

Mr. Gates’s supervisor, U.S. President Barack Obama, made the same mistake when he spoke in Oslo on December 10, 2009:

“…as a head of state sworn to protect and defend my nation…”

But Mr. Obama is not sworn to “protect and defend [his] nation.” He is sworn to

“preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

The Takeaway: Don’t imitate politicians. They are poor role models for writers. With few exceptions, politicians are incapable of using words clearly, accurately and honestly.

See disclaimer.

A fine simile

Here’s a fine simile from James Delingpole, a literate newsman who writes for the Telegraph (UK). Mr. Delingpole uses the simile to open his October 21 blog post:

“And so it begins. With all the shamelessness of a Goldman Sachser trading in his middle-aged wife for a hot, pouting twentysomething called Ivanka, the green movement is ditching ‘Climate Change.’ The newer, younger, sexier model’s name? Biodiversity.”

The Takeaway: A well-crafted simile or metaphor can help you clarify your point.

See disclaimer.

Get to the point

Clear writing helps you make your point, but only if you get to the point before your readers flee or fall asleep.

In your first paragraph, don’t lower your credibility with puerile language, grammar errors, or poor sentence construction.

Then, try not to use too many words before you get to the point.

Example

For example, “Cassandra” wrote a 796-word article about how to stop executives from implementing dumb communication ideas. She spent 406 words, more than half the article, describing the problem and teasing her readers with claims that her solution was magic and powerful.

Finally, at word 407, she got to her point, with “Here’s how to do it: Start by…”

I wondered how many readers were still paying attention. (I was; but of course I was not seeking content, but evaluating the article as a “how not to write” example.)

The Takeaway: If you have a point to make, make it early in the copy. Get to the point before your readers flee or fall asleep.

See disclaimer.

When combining Present Perfect tense and Future tense, don’t omit any verbs

When combining the Present Perfect tense and the Future tense in one sentence, don’t omit any verbs. That is to say, include all auxiliary verbs and all main verbs.

Omitting the first main verb is a common mistake. Here are two examples.

Example from Bleacher Report:

“Through significant pain, [Andrew] Bynum [pictured] gave everything he had and opted out of surgery, possibly putting his NBA career in jeopardy just to help his team win.... This won him major kudos with teammates, most notably Kobe Bryant, and head coach Phil Jackson. This has and will further contribute to the respect Bynum gets from his teammates and coaching staff alike.” (Boldface added.)

Correction:

has contributed and will further contribute

Example from The Market Ticker:

“We are not far away from a complete and total breakdown of lawful behavior among the population of this nation…. This has and will in the future occur because the government has refused to enforce long-standing laws…” (Boldface added.)

A literal correction would be:

has occurred and will in the future occur

A smoother correction would be:

has occurred and will continue to occur

The author did not notice that the meaning of this sentence is logically inconsistent with the phrase “total breakdown,” which occurs in an earlier sentence. For, when a total breakdown has occurred, nothing more can break down.

For additional information on the combining of tenses, see these two posts on the Sequence of Tenses: (1, 2).

The Takeaway: When combining the Present Perfect tense and the Future tense in one sentence, don’t omit any verbs. When you omit verbs, you run two risks: (1) that you will confuse some readers; (2) that you will appear to be careless.

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Prefer strong verbs to weak verbs (1)

If you aim to write clear, informative, persuasive English, you should prefer strong verbs to weak verbs. Usually, weak verbs are general and dull, while strong verbs are specific and expressive.

By far, the most common weak verbs are to be and to have.

Example, with to be

WEAK: “...believes her father was instrumental in the writing of the Navajo Code Talkers codebook... ” (Source) (Boldface added.)

STRONG: ...believes her father helped write the Navajo Code Talkers codebook...

STRONGER: ...believes her father co-authored the Navajo Code Talkers codebook...

Example, with to have

WEAK: “The new Elector, Charles Albert, clearly had an affection for the Wittelsbach [a famous diamond] [pictured] because during his lifetime he had its setting altered several times, each more beautiful than the last.” (Source) (Boldface added.)

STRONG: The new Elector, Charles Albert, clearly loved the Wittelsbach...

STRONGER: The new Elector, Charles Albert, clearly cherished the Wittelsbach...

The Takeaway: When you fear you have written some weak copy, here’s a quick way to strengthen it: Count the instances of to be and to have. If there are a great many, replace several with strong verbs. In a 1,500-word article, for example, even ten or twelve replacements will make a noticeable difference. As you write or edit, always prefer strong verbs to weak verbs. It will become a habit, and it will improve your writing forever.

A Good Resource: I recommend you read this lesson from the writing center of The University of North Carolina at Greensboro. From time to time, re-read it to gauge your progress.

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Mantra overload (8)

Mantra overload – the excessive use of trendy, vague expressions – is a widespread habit among financial writers.

For example, on MarketWatch, February 9, Paul B. Farrell opened his column with this paragraph (boldface added):

Wake up investors. Are you prepared for the economic anarchy coming after a global-debt time bomb explodes? Are you thinking outside the box? Investing differently? Act now -- tomorrow will be too late.

I count five mantras in 33 words. After suffering this fusillade of mantras, the intelligent reader is likely to grumble, “Are you finished playing? Get to the point.”

A reader who endures the entire column will have suffered several times more than five mantras.

The Takeaway: If you intend to write clearly, do not mimic financial writers. With few exceptions, these writers obscure their topics with numerous mantras. Overuse of mantras hampers communication, damages your credibility, and dulls your mind. Use mantras sparingly or not at all. Keep asking yourself, “What do I really mean here?” Over time, this diligent habit will make your writing more precise and more honest.

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First, second and third person (5) – road signs

First, second and third person are all used on road signs. Here are some examples:

First person

Most first-person road signs are ceremonial:

[We] Welcome [You] to New Hampshire

Second person

Most second-person road signs are in the imperative mood:

[You] Stop [Here]

[You Drive] Slow[ly]

Sometimes the second person is tricky. For example, consider this sign, which I saw years ago at a turnpike toll plaza:

[You] Use All Lanes

The person at the Turnpike Authority who wrote that copy was really talking to himself (lack of empathy), saying, “We hope that drivers approaching this toll plaza will help relieve congestion by (collectively) spreading out and using all lanes.”

But each driver is an individual. As he reads the sign, he thinks, “I can’t use all lanes – I can use only one lane. And by the way, why don’t they tell me the one thing I do want to know: which lane am I supposed to use?

The sign should, of course, have said:

[You] Use Any Lane

Third person

Most third-person road signs state routine facts:

[The] Speed Limit [Here is] 50 [Miles per Hour]

But sometimes they state unusual facts:

[A] Duck Crossing [Lies Ahead]

Or even arcane facts:

Road Ends in Water

The Takeaway: Happy motoring!

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Don’t misuse the verb “to see”

Because the verb to see is a familiar verb, we often misuse it: we try to force it to do the work of more-specific verbs.

Example

From a column in the Guardian (UK): “The incidents in America on 9/11 (2001) and in London on 7/7 (2005) saw the greatest ever peacetime growth in spending on security. Unlike most forms of public spending, this one could by its nature demand cash with menaces and with no account of value for money.” (Boldface added.)

The first sentence boils down to “Incidents saw growth.” But saw is too vague here. The columnist was probably too hurried to identify and use the more-specific verb he had in the back of his mind. We readers are left to guess: was that verb triggered, occasioned, justified, excused, or rationalized? Or something else?

The Takeaway: Don’t misuse the verb to see. It is frequently tempting to use it instead of a more-specific verb. But doing so can weaken your copy and can even obscure your meaning.

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