When using PowerPoint, think like a writer

Many articles and books have been written about how to deliver better PowerPoint presentations. Recently I saw an unusually fine editorial on this topic. I recommend it to anyone who is not already attracting overflow crowds. It’s a Computerworld editorial by Mike Elgan and it’s titled “Give killer presentations: Think like a writer.”

• Mr. Elgan starts out by saying that most presenters are delivering “soul-killing dreck.” (You and I know he’s right.)

• Then he asks, “Have you ever wondered how good novelists can hold a reader's attention for hours at a time with nothing but words on a page?”

• Then, using fewer than 1,000 words, Mr. Elgan tells you “how to apply skills from the craft of writing to make your presentations enjoyable and unforgettable.”

I’ve been a speechwriter for 38 years. I know that nobody has ever told you what Mike Elgan tells you in this editorial.

Want a sample? Here’s one:

PowerPoint presentations usually involve a lot of pretending. The speaker pretends to be excited. The audience pretends to be interested. Everybody is faking it.

Most collections of slides are packed with fake images – stock photography, clip art and other inherently false imagery.

Here’s another:

Most presenters act like their audience is made up of information-harvesting robots, not human beings.

One more:

(One of the reasons most presentations are so bad is that speakers use euphemism and jargon because they think it sounds “professional.” It doesn’t. It’s amateur-hour communication.)

I rarely say, “You gotta read this one.” But I’m saying it now. Read it here.

The Takeaway: In your PowerPoint presentations, you can use the same attention-getting and attention-holding skills that novelists use. Learn how here.

NOTE: I have no business relationship with Mike Elgan.

See disclaimer.

The adjective “everyday” vs. the adverb “every day”

A common mistake in English is to confuse the adjective everyday with the adverbial phrase every day. Even mighty media outlets such as Reuters make this mistake occasionally. For example:

Everyday, content creators are producing more journalism, more think-pieces, more interactive graphics, more photo galleries, more tweets, more slideshows, more videos, more GIFs... (Source) (Boldface added)

Analysis

When the reader encounters “Everyday” at the beginning of the sentence, he may assume that “Everyday” modifies “content creators.” But then he considers the comma after “Everyday” and assumes that “Everyday” modifies the verb “are producing.”* This second assumption is probably correct.

However, the word everyday is an adjective; as such, it should not be used to modify a verb. The writer should have used the adverbial phrase every day. For more on everyday vs. every day, see Grammarist.)

The Takeaway: Strive to use proper grammar and diction. Although your mistakes may not always make your writing unclear, they will hurt your credibility if they are frequent.

See disclaimer.

*Or is a sentence adverb.

Unintentional humor from the executive suite

I’ve heard this story now and then over the years. I’ve also seen it on the Web. Perhaps you have, too. Whether true or fictitious,* it’s pretty funny:

As director of communications, I was asked to prepare a memo reviewing our company’s training programs and materials. In the body of the memo one of the sentences mentioned the “pedagogical approach” used by one of the training manuals. The day after I routed the memo to the executive committee, I was called into the HR Director’s office, and was told that the executive VP wanted me out of the building by lunch. When I asked why, I was told that she wouldn’t stand for “perverts” (pedophiles?) working in her company. Finally he showed me her copy of the memo, with her demand that I be fired, with the word “pedagogical” circled in red. The HR Manager was fairly reasonable, and once he looked the word up in his dictionary and made a copy of the definition to send to my boss, he told me not to worry. He would take care of it. Two days later a memo to the entire staff came out, directing us that no words which could not be found in the local Sunday newspaper could be used in company memos. A month later, I resigned. In accordance with company policy, I created my resignation letter by pasting words together from the Sunday paper. (Source)

The Takeaway: Have a great Monday.


See disclaimer.

*If you have proof that this really happened, I would be interested in seeing it. Please email me at joeroy(at)joeroy(dot)com.

Start with Draft 0, not Draft 1

In our last post, we referred you to the blog of Erik Bergman, who stated a crucial truth in an eloquent way:

Most early drafts are a writer’s half-blind exploration of what he or she wants to say but hasn’t yet hit upon.

In contrast, many writers believe that a first draft can and should be perfect. As a result, they frighten themselves and they procrastinate. When the deadline is terrifyingly near, they dash off an inadequate first draft. They lose twice: they suffer mental agony and they deliver a poor product.

If this sounds like you, don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all done it.

A quick and easy way out

Cheer up. Here’s what to do.

In your word processor, set up a standard document. Format it your favorite way, as to font, spacing, margins, header, footer, and so on. (If you already have such a document, make a copy of it.)

Name this document “Draft 0.” Then open it and type this (or your own version) at the head of the first page:

This is Draft 0. It’s only a half-blind exploration of what I want to say. It won’t be difficult; nobody’s going to see it but me. I’ll just get my thoughts down, rough and ready. Then I’ll start on Draft 1.

I’ve been starting with a Draft 0 for more than 25 years. Many professional writers use this technique. It works. I don’t know who first thought of it, but I salute him.

The Takeaway: Be kind to yourself. Call your first draft “Draft 0.” Figuratively close your eyes and blast through it. Then start on Draft 1.

See disclaimer.

Finding the right word

In several posts, I have described skills that you can acquire quickly. In several other posts, I have described skills that you can acquire only slowly.*

Unfortunately, finding the right word, the exactly right word, the best word for what you want to say, is one of the slowly acquired skills.

On this topic, I yield the floor to another blogger, Erik Bergman, “Word Surgeon,” who has published a brief, thoughtful, candid post about finding the right word:

Why it’s important.

Why it’s often difficult.

How to do it.

How an editor can help.

Here’s the post.

The Takeaway: If you care about clarity, you must care about finding the right word. That means you must regard your first draft as, in Mr. Bergman’s phrase, a “half-blind exploration” of what you want to say. That in turn means you must be willing to write at least one more draft. Or five or ten. Like it or not, these attitudes are what differentiates a pro from an amateur.

See disclaimer.

*Whenever budding writers asked veteran speechwriter Mel Grayson how long it takes to write a speech, he would usually reply, “Twenty years.”