Free Writing Tips

Have you ever noticed how many TV news stories open with “It’s a (fill in the blank)’s worst nightmare”? A parent’s worst nightmare. A locksmith’s worst nightmare. A mime’s worst nightmare.

I certainly don’t want to trivialize a parent’s heartache, but one would think the inherent drama of the dire situation needs no lead-in, especially a lead-in that has become a cliché. I see three writing lessons in this:

1. Often, when we are imparting compelling information, a generalization to get us to that information is superfluous. Why not just get to the facts?
2. Being on the lookout for overworked words and phrases enhances our communications effectiveness.
3. Some “file drawers” in our head can be quite handy when we’re speaking, but they can undermine our impact when we’re writing. Let’s explore this final point.

Our writing “file drawers”

Even if you don’t like to write or don’t consider yourself especially adept at writing, you’d have to agree that you have plenty of file drawers in your brain dedicated to writing: grammar rules, correct spelling of challenging words and names, nifty expressions, etc. This collection seems like a real asset, doesn’t it? But hold on. Some of the well-worn drawers should mainly be kept shut.

The cliché drawer

Clichés certainly help us when we’re talking and writing informally, but they can get in the way when we should be aiming higher. Phrases like “level the playing field,” “think outside the box,” “work smarter not harder,” “at the end of the day,” “it is what it is,” and “step up to the plate”––plus oldies-but-goodies like “passed with flying colors” or “my worst nightmare”––all communicate, but we need to be wary of pulling them out of the cliché drawer too often. Some situations call for writing with more originality or precision, and some readers find the overuse of clichés off-putting.

The bizspeak drawer 

Yes, bizspeak can enhance our credibility in situations where it’s advantageous to show that we know and understand the lingo (“strategic,” “monetize,” “platform,” “model”), but we need to be wary here too. The reasons are similar to the reasons for applying restraint to clichés, but bizspeak carries an added caution. We don’t want to come across as relying on bizspeak to conceal lack of depth.

(I admit to ambivalence about “brand.” It gets an awful lot of play, but it can convey a great deal in just one syllable.)

The expected language drawer 

Is it just my perspective, or are the three most common adjectives today “amazing,” “awesome,” and “tremendous”? To repeat, writing gives us the opportunity to transcend the more commonplace language we use in speaking, such as “incredible,” “high-quality,” “special,” and “iconic” and, instead, look for alternatives in the next drawer.

The fresh and compelling language drawer 

The more we cram into this drawer and the more often we reach inside to pull out little gems, the more our writing will rise above the mundane, giving even routine emails a bit of vitality.

For example, one folder among many could be devoted to alternatives to “very good”––words like “exceptional,” “extraordinary,” “remarkable,” or, when the situation fits, “stunning,” “uncommon,” and “impeccable”––so we’re not calling everything “tremendous.”

Other folders can contain words that are not highbrow, but merely underused in workplace writing: “eclipse” instead of “exceed,” “refine” or “distill” instead of “improve,” “slated” instead of “scheduled,” “exacting” instead of “careful.”

When we stay away from the stale drawers in our brain and take advantage of the fresh ones, writing is a lot more enjoyable for us and our readers. And we know that boring our readers is a writer’s worst nightmare. 

In addition to presenting workshops on writing in the workplace, Norm Friedman is a writer, editor, and writing coach. His 100+ Instant Writing Tips is a brief “non-textbook” to help individuals overcome common writing errors and write with more finesse and impact. Learn more at http://www.normfriedman.com/index.shtml.

Did a teacher or professor ever say your writing was choppy––but you had no idea how to cure that malady? When you review an important item you’re about to send to your boss or a client, perhaps by reading it aloud, do you ever feel as if you’re driving over rumble strips?

That problem can be easily solved. Let’s say you wrote the following:

“I propose that we form a coed employee softball team. I believe such an activity would serve as a morale-builder for the players and other employees who just want to have fun together watching the games. A team will also raise our company profile in the community.

“I feel confident that an announcement about forming a team will create a buzz and that we will have little trouble recruiting enough players. I am happy to answer any questions you might have, and I am quite willing to serve as the ‘general manager’ of the team if you want me to.”

Does this email deserve high marks for content, clarity, conciseness, and correctness? Yes. So it’s practically a 10. It lacks only a pleasant cadence, which isn’t important in every workplace communication, but let’s pretend this one merits an extra minute or two of editing. Where do we start?

The main reason for a choppy rhythm is a monotonous subject-verb structure. Notice how the sentences begin: “I propose.” I believe.” “A team will.” “I feel.” “I am.” Because every sentence starts with the subject and verb––and because nearly every one of those subjects is “I”––we may be distracting the reader with a staccato rhythm.

Fortunately, the antidote is simple. Just find a different way to begin one or two of the sentences or, on occasion, package two sentences as one, and you’ll get rid of the rumble strip effect. Here is how the paragraphs above might be tweaked to meet that end:

“I propose that we form a coed employee softball team to serve as a morale-builder for players and other employees who just want to have fun together watching the games. Moreover, a team will raise our company profile in the community.

“Because an announcement about forming a team is likely to create a buzz, I’m confident we will have little trouble recruiting enough players. If you have any questions, I am happy to answer them, and I am quite willing to serve as the ‘general manager’ of the team if you want me to.”

Now the sentences start with “I,” “Moreover,” “Because,” and “If.”

Moral of the story? By watching out for a monotonous structure and gradually expanding our stockpile of words and phrases that enable us to vary the beginnings of our sentences, we become stronger writers. Here are a few random examples in addition to “Moreover,” “Because,” and “If”:

And • But • Now that • When • After • As a result • Nevertheless • Once • On the other hand • In fact • In addition • As soon as • Coincidentally • Fortunately • Ironically • Clearly

Postscript. Another handy sentence beginning––woefully underused––is the participle (an “-ing” word), as in the following two examples:

Realizing that our consultant can’t meet with us until the 15th, I’d like to delay submission of our proposal by one week.

Appreciating my help in smoothing out his writing, Joe is treating me to happy hour at Paddy’s Pub tonight. I’ll drink to that.

In addition to presenting workshops on writing in the workplace, Norm Friedman is a writer, editor, and writing coach. His 100+ Instant Writing Tips is a brief “non-textbook” to help individuals overcome common writing errors and write with more finesse and impact. Learn more at http://www.normfriedman.com/index.shtml.

Dorothy’s fellow travelers in The Wizard of Oz can remind us of of three business writing priorities that will command reader attention and separate us from the pack.

A Heart.  The Tin Man was looking for a heart, and each of us should strive for a warm, natural style when we write. This doesn’t mean protracted greetings that delay getting to the real reason we’re writing; it means making sure our messages sound a lot like conversations. If we wouldn’t start a conversation with “Pursuant to” or “I am in receipt of,” why begin a letter, memo, or email that way?

The writing process, especially the editing phase, enables us to emulate the way we talk––and to show attractive traits like empathy, respect, and humor––while enhancing our message with more precision than we usually achieve in the rapid give-and-take of conversation. Grand language and complicated sentence structure paid off in school, but writing with heart pays off at work.

A Brain.  The Scarecrow wanted a brain, and we’d like to appear brainy in our writing.  If we try to accomplish that with a pretentious vocabulary and dense paragraphs, however, the reader won’t be too impressed.  Instead, if we commit ourselves to messages that are well organized, concise, and relatively error-free, we’ll look pretty smart.

Courage.  The Cowardly Lion was seeking courage––an attribute we often need to write effectively.  We need the gumption to “keep it simple” when many around us are straining to impress.  If we want to write a short message, we need to remind ourselves that a brief message doesn’t necessarily reflect less effort, brainpower, or respect for the reader.  As we strive for a fresher, more natural style, we can’t get beaten down by stuffy conventions that others seem to accept.  And if we know some rules that others don’t––like the correctness of beginning a sentence with “And”––we need to lead, not follow.

Dorothy thought Oz was a wondrous land, but in the end she decided “There’s no place like home.”  As writers, we will consistently create clear, concise, compelling messages––with a pleasing tone––if we remain true to the basics and to ourselves.

In addition to presenting workshops on writing in the workplace, Norm Friedman is a writer, editor, and writing coach. His 100+ Instant Writing Tips is a brief “non-textbook” to help individuals overcome common writing errors and write with more finesse and impact. Learn more at http://www.normfriedman.com/index.shtml.

When you read something fairly impenetrable––or just too formal for your taste––do you ever feel like the innocent child in Hans Christian Andersen’s tale of the emperor and his elegant but “invisible” new clothes? The child proclaimed what was apparent to all: that the emperor had no clothes on. That child who had the naiveté and courage to speak up occurs to me whenever I encounter otherwise intelligent writing that, to my mind, should have been composed more simply.

So why do we occasionally stray from a natural style and tax our reader unnecessarily? My theory is that it’s difficult to shed the conditioning we experienced in school: to write to impress. School was a time to display the expansion of our vocabulary and support our points of view in great depth. Because teachers needed to monitor our intellectual progress, we often wrote in the scholarly style we saw in our textbooks.

At work, however, we need to overcome that tendency because our readers want to absorb our points quickly. What helps is keeping in mind the sharp distinction between successful academic writing and successful workplace writing. The formal style that won us an “A” on  a term paper or essay exam is a style we should echo only when the content or format requires it or when we are writing to a reader who prefers a more academic tone.

Unfortunately, our resolve to write naturally, is occasionally shaken by writing such as this––the first sentence of a renowned columnist’s opinion piece: America overflows with specious “victims” demanding redress for spurious grievances. I guess I’m revealing my lowbrow tendencies when I confess that I barely skimmed this article, even though it was penned by someone I revere and pertained to a subject I’m passionate about: baseball. I just wasn’t in the mood to slow down enough to decipher the lofty language.

More recently, the same columnist began a piece with Disabusing the Republican Party of a cherished dogma, thereby requiring it to forgo a favorite rhetorical trope, will not win Clark M. Neily III the gratitude of conservatives who relish denouncing “judicial activism.” I’m sure the writer’s fans cheered another of his brilliant columns, but I felt like the kid in the Andersen story.

You don’t have to agree, but I say we have plenty of opportunities to impress our readers (if impressing is our aim) with clarity, conciseness, effective organization, precise language, and a natural and friendly tone. When our writing is simply a slightly refined version of the way we talk, our readers can’t cry out that we don’t have any clothes on.

In addition to presenting workshops on writing in the workplace, Norm Friedman is a writer, editor, and writing coach. His 100+ Instant Writing Tips is a brief “non-textbook” to help individuals overcome common writing errors and write with more finesse and impact. Learn more at http://www.normfriedman.com/index.shtml.