Writing Well

As a writer, I spend a lot of time editing other people’s work. As a college instructor, that means commenting on student papers with the goal of eliciting stronger, clearer, better supported and thus more effective writing. But I also review and edit the work of adults writing in professional settings. Regardless of the writer’s age or place in life, I see many of the same mistakes and weaknesses. 

I’ve been asked a few times recently if I would articulate some basic advice for the benefit of those who’d like to strengthen their writing (especially those who will face my own red pen at some point in the process). So here we go. I’ll aim this toward prose writers (academic and non-academic), although some of the principles will apply for fiction and perhaps even poetry. And I’ll try to keep it succinct, in the interests of proactively following my own advice:

Big ideas: Omit needless words, and place yourself in the background.

My favorite book on style is Strunk and White’s Elements of Style, and one of that book’s most valuable bits of advice is: “Omit needless words!” Strong writing is clear writing, and clear writing is succinct. Please note: I could have said, “To write with strength is to write clearly, and writing clearly means using as few words as you possibly can,” but I conveyed the same meaning in 10 well-chosen words instead of 20. Our brains are inundated with words all day, every day. To get through the noise, to make an impression that will last, to convey meaning most effectively, writers must be their own first editor, ensuring each word used really needs to be present. 

This rule regards both content and wording. As regards content, avoid repetition unless it adds to understanding. If you feel like you’re rambling in your writing, you probably are. Check the beginning of your piece (especially) for needless words; this is where I most often find weak content in writing, including my own. It’s like we need to warm-up by placing a lot of word-vomit on a page before we get to anything good. It’s an important part of the writing process, but don’t get attached to these expendable, warm-up words. Your readers need you to get to the point. With regard to wording, it may be tempting to assume you’ve already been as succinct as you can, especially when crafting words to convey your most essential content. Try this test: when you’ve written an important sentence (and they should all be important!), go back and challenge yourself to say it again with fewer words, and again, and again. When omitting further words would reduce rather than increase clarity, that’s when your sentence is succinct.

Placing yourself in the background (another “big picture” piece of writing advice from Strunk and White that doubles as great life advice) is, for some, more difficult. Placing yourself in the background allows ideas to take center stage, rather than the person writing. Did your high school English teacher baffle you by insisting you not use “I language” in your essays? Why the heck not? Aren’t personal stories valuable in conveying meaning? Well, yes, they are, but that doesn’t mean they have to be presented through a heavy subjective filter. Such a personal filter may make them more difficult for a reader to identify with and appropriate as their own. Especially for persuasive writing, this presents a missed opportunity.

Especially for young women writers, a heavy personal filter can be a way of apologizing for our own perspective: “I think the most interesting aspect of the Sikh religion is its insistence on equality among all.” If someone disagrees, well, it was just “your thought,” after all – conflict avoided. I hope you can guess my suggestion: remove “I think” and say it again, with authority. This is your paper, dear writer! Your name is at the top, so we know, when a subjective idea is presented, that it is yours. Place yourself in the background, and speak boldly, letting your idea shine: “The most interesting aspect of the Sikh religion is its insistence on equality among all.” Boom. You’ve claimed your truth, and to boot, you’ve also omitted needless words. Double-boom. Now we’re free to talk about that awesome idea you presented.

Some important details of writing well: Choose strong verbs and avoid the passive voice. 

I have a fiction writing friend who, after drafting a chapter or short story, will perform a command-F search of her document for the words “was” (“is” for present tense writing) and “being”. Then she replaces those weak, ineffective verbs with stronger ones. “Ralph was calling his mother while Jenny was in the kitchen smoking” becomes “Ralph called his mother while Jenny smoked in the kitchen.” There’s no sea-change of meaning here, but the focus is oriented on the action, and that’s especially prized in popular fiction. Action-oriented verbs bring exciting energy to descriptions of your work experience on a resumé; they work similarly in other forms of writing as well. 

Being a writer is hard work. Writing is hard work. Writers work hard. Choosing your verbs carefully can also subtly shift your meaning, but that’s often for the better, helping you convey new, exciting and innovative ideas.

An unfortunate tendency of the passive voice is that it just… gets used. (*Rim shot.*) If you’re confused by what I mean by “active” and “passive” voices in writing, it has to do with the relationship between the subject and the action of the sentence. Is the subject the one who does the action (active voice, eg. Bill bought a car.)? Or is the subject the one receiving the action of the verb (passive voice. eg. A car was bought by Bill.)? Passive voice isn’t always wrong, and is occasionally helpful in placing yourself in the background. (Passive voice is actually preferred in scientific writing, where the impression of objectivity is important; whether you really need to use the passive voice to achieve this is a debate I won’t go into right now.) But active voice is stronger, clearer and requires fewer words to get the point across. An aspiring writer should learn to recognize the difference between active and passive voices (this Grammar Girl article is helpful), and unless they have a good reason to use it, should avoid passive voice whenever possible.

Some professional touches that will help you write well: details matter.

Avoid cliché and overused words and phrases. Challenge yourself to come up with your own metaphor for how hot it is, rather than saying “it’s hot as blazes!” or another not-very-original mental shortcut. Some idiomatic phrases are so ingrained in us we have difficulty recognizing them, even when we use them. If you’re not sure if you’re overusing cliché, find a writing partner who understands your goals and is willing to read over your work. N.B.: Of late, the word “literally” is a key word to avoid in most cases for reasons I have set forth here.

Pick the best word and go with it (no forward slashes!). I see this annoying writing habit everywhere these days: a writer can’t decide which word works best, so they use both, joined by a forward slash. “John clearly expressed his thought/opinion on the matter.” “Be sure prayer is part of every rehearsal for your choir/ensemble.” “The popularity of fantasy/science fiction is increasing of late.” In the first example, the writer should choose the word they most mean. In the second example, “or” is needed; in the third, “and” is needed. In all three examples, the writer has shirked their responsibility for a very basic decision in writing — simple word choice — foisting that responsibility onto the reader instead. Now, I’m all for allotting the reader certain work to perform in taking in the writing; this can make writing transformative. But such work — discerning important facets of a character’s personality from dialogue or grasping the implications of a set of carefully-described circumstances — should be meaningful and rewarding. Making your reader choose the best word because you are too lazy or timid to do that work yourself pointlessly exhausts your reader. An exhausted reader stops reading.

There’s always a better word than “thing”. Strong writing is clear and specific. Unless you are describing an object whose form, purpose or function is unclear (and that lack of clarity is at issue), avoid the word “thing”. “One thing about Judaism I admire is…” becomes “One admirable aspect of Judaism is…” In the expression, “One thing I would point out…”, “thing” should be replaced with a more specific word, such as “concern” or “possibility” or whatever you mean to say, which cannot possibly be “thing”. “Thing” is an amorphous blob of a word that should only be used to describe amorphous blobs (and as I’ve just demonstrated, can be fruitfully avoided even then). When correcting the use of “thing” in writing, my go-to suggestions for replacement words include (but are not limited to) “aspect”, “characteristic” and “quality”.

Aim up with your writing. I have had some writers balk at the above advice, suggesting that as culture has become more casual, so has writing style. I agree the same rules do not apply in an e-mail or text as they do in an article submitted to a professional newsletter or magazine. I also have found that adopting an undue air of formality (as in much academic writing) often leads to wordiness and lack of clarity. But I would suggest that in any writing or reading environment more formal than an e-mail, writers should adhere to these (and many other) rules of writing. It’s good to have standards, and discipline in writing helps us exert discipline over other areas of our lives. Aim up with your writing, not down, and your readers just might follow.

I think that’s quite enough advice for now. I hope you find these fairly simple tips useful in helping you write well. 

What are your favorite bits of writing advice? I hope you’ll share them with my readers and me in the comments.