Follow the Love » writing

Talking and Writing, Plain and Clear

Angela — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 15:20:26 +0000

“Plain language” is a movement away from legalese, and toward clear language that people can understand. It turns out that contracts and laws don’t have to be written in gobbledygook afterall.

My friend Cheryl Stephens has been a pioneer in the plain language movement. She’s on a blog tour this week, promoting her book, Plain Language Legal Writing.

I had the opportunity to ask her a question, so I gave it some thought. I’m a big fan of plain language — I think of myself as a plain language editor — but there’s one question I’ve been asked that’s been really hard to answer. So I picked that one to ask her. And apparently it was a good choice!

Q. “You tell me to write naturally, the way I would speak, but the truth is that I even talk this way — what you call “stuffy.” I have to struggle to avoid using complex sentences and big words, even when speaking. Does plain language apply to speech, and if so, can you suggest a manner in which I could revise my speaking to be more in keeping with plain language ideas?”

Guest answer, from Cheryl Stephens:
Plain language in oral discourse encompasses many of the plain language principles used in written communication, with added emphasis on the importance of considering your audience. Additional concerns are how people listen and process information and techniques you can use to be sure the message you intend to communicate is the one being communicated.

Short sentences.

Start with a human subject.
I will, You do, He went, The doctor will…

Use transition words and signal words, creating a word map.
“There are 2 things to remember. First, … Second, …so that’s 2 things to do, then.”

3/7/15 rules.
* Don’t use more than 3 examples or 3 items in a list. Break a longer list down to groups of 3 items.
* Wait through 7 seconds of silence for a response so the listener can process your information and develop a reply.
* While you won’t count your words as you speak, in oral presentations, a short sentence is less than 15 words.

Watch your pronouns.
Avoid using too many 3rd person pronouns (“He was her worst enemy.”). Listeners get lost trying to keep track of who you mean. Restate the original noun. Use personal pronouns to speak directly to the listener. “You are ……”

Be positive.
Beware of negative prefixes that get lost in the process of speech or hearing: illegitimate, impossible, unlikely and so on. This is a particularly important consideration if your listeners have English as a second language.

I discuss these and other tips on my website at CherylStephens.com.

Thanks for that, Cheryl! I think paying attention to plain language in speech is an important part of learning to write in plain language. And learning to write in plain language is vital to learning to write well.

I’m going to start doing a Q. and A. as a regular feature here, though I’ll usually answer the questions myself. Send me your questions, and I’ll answer as many as I can.

Avoid cliché in your writing

Angela — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 21:25:09 +0000

Writers who defend their clichés on the grounds that "they wouldn’t have become clichés if they weren’t good" may have a terrific point. And they should enjoy that, because what they won’t have is successful writing.

A cliché is a word or phrase that’s been overused. It may have been a clever phrase when it was new, but readers are tired of it now. Reading it is boring. (I hope you got that. I said "boring." That word should terrify you. If it doesn’t, well, maybe you should consider a new career.)

Cliché is a crutch that lets the writer use an acceptable one-size-fits all description, instead of crafting the perfect description for the circumstances.
A cliché makes for uninteresting reading. The reader already knows what "flat as a pancake" looks like. It doesn’t invite her to create a new mental image.
The best writing is a rich interaction between the writer’s mind and the reader’s. Using cliché is a lazy way of writing that encourages a lazy way of reading, making it very difficult for the reader and the writer to connect.

Clichés to avoid

icing on the cake * bright and shining * all for the best
play favorites * give it a rest * just deserts
better late than never * too tired to sleep * play with fire
diamond in the rough * wet behind the ears * short and sweet
live dangerously * point of no return

When cliché is a good idea

There are a few good uses for cliché.

Twisted Cliché

Irony should be used carefully, because the technique itself is becoming cliché. But if you can pull it off, the rare twisted cliché can be fun. “What a great birthday! The tickets to Hawaii were just icing on the bright red Porche.” (I didn’t say I could pull it off!)

I used to get a kick out of my dad saying “Never put off to tomorrow what you can put off indefinitely.” Isn’t he clever?

Revealing a Character

Fortunately, your characters don’t have to be as good at putting together words as you are. If Mama has been telling Henry not to go out with his friends, you might quote her as saying, “Mark my words, boy. You go up there tonight, you gonna get caught red-handed!”

Cliché used in this way lets the reader know who Mama is. We learn not only that she doesn’t want him to go, but we learn how she talks to him, and we begin to learn something about their relationship.

Because cliché doesn’t have the impact of more creative word-crafting, it’s likely that Henry isn’t going to be very strongly affected by her words. But rather than have Mama talk to the boy without using cliché, and possibly really reach him, here I want to show the reader a character who uses cliché easily, and to show the consequences of that sort of interaction. In fact, as I’ve been sitting here making up this interaction, I’ve discovered that Henry feels that his Mama never listens to him, and he ignores what she says because it’s so vague he can’t even argue with it. (Dang. I hate it when throw-away characters come to life, and I have to save them in a drawer.)

Cliché Hunting

Those two uses of cliché are usually ok. But the rest you have to fix. Here’s how:
- Practice listening for cliché as you go through your day. Any phrase that could be taken from one scene and dropped into an entirely different one and work fine should get your attention.
- Read your work out loud so that clichés you miss will catch your attention.
- Visualize your scene clearly, so that you won’t be as tempted to use the first phrase that comes to mind to describe it.
Now you know another trick for making your writing sparkle! If you have questions, send me an email. I’ll answer as best I can. :)

(Psst! How many clichés did you find in this article?)

Writing Non-Fiction: Write an Outline

Angela — Tue, 13 May 2008 16:56:47 +0000

Clean, Effective Articles and Exposition

At the coffee shop where I like to work in the mornings, you can get whatever you want for breakfast, as long as it’s either a scramble, or an omelet. I tease them, “Can I choose which one?” See, in my house, you ask for an omelet, and you might get an omelet, or, if things aren’t going as well, you might get a scramble. Same eggs and cream, same veggies and cheese, but in the end, an entirely different shape.

A Scramble or an Omelet?

The difference between me, at home on my iron skillet, and the chef with his professional equipment, is two-fold. First, he has an expensive non-stick skillet, just perfect for making omelets. Second, he has practiced using that skillet, until his method is almost fool-proof.

How to Outline: Writing the Perfect Omelet

A shiny new skillet won’t help you. For expository writing, you need a different sort of tool: the outline.

Don’t panic, now. This isn’t eighth grade, and you don’t have to use roman numerals. That’s not the point of an outline anyway.

An outline helps you clarify your thinking, and figure out exactly what you want to cover in your article. It will give your final article a logical structure and flow, making it much easier for the reader to follow. And it will improve the editing and re-write process, because you can see relationships between sections clearly, and move things around when necessary.

How to Create an Outline

Creating the outline is all about organizing your thoughts. Once that’s done, writing it down is a simple matter. So, to get your thinking in order, start by answering these questions:

Who is the intended audience for this article?
Why am I writing it? What’s my purpose?
In a sentence or so, what is it I want to say? (This is your thesis statement.)

Once you have clarified for yourself why you are writing, who you are writing for, and what you have to say, you can begin putting the ideas in order.

All pets must be spayed or neutered.
1. There are a lot of kittens born every year.
2. Almost all are unwanted.
3.Feral cats spread disease…

Write your thesis statement at the top of a page. Then, below that, make a list of points you want to be sure to cover. You do not need to be specific yet.

Now spend some time adding details. (Kittens born where? In the world? In Chicago?) You might want to research facts that you haven’t checked out yet. (How many kittens, exactly?) You can note areas where you’d like to include a quote from an expert, or a graph. If you are using a word-processor like Word or OpenOffice.org, you will find it easy to move things around, and add more information to each section as you think it through. (Learning to use the outline feature of your word-processor will pay off in the long run. But I’ll leave that for another article.)

As you add the details, the logical structure will take shape. You’ll notice areas where you want to talk about a particular facet of your topic, but haven’t given the background information yet. It’s very straightforward, at that point, to slide things around until the flow makes sense.

An outline can really make a difference in how your article comes together, and how much stress you experience while writing it. It will also improve the reaction you get from editors and potential publishers. Clear logic, distinctive sections, and complete thought processes make your article more inviting and more readable, for everyone from the editor and publisher to the reader who finds it and decides to dive in to see what you have to say.

What Counts as Correct English?

Angela — Fri, 02 May 2008 08:12:40 +0000

The Conspiracy

Editors get a bad rap. When I meet someone new and mention that I’m an editor, I’m likely to get a suspicious look, as though I’m part of a conspiracy to make English too difficult to leave to amateurs. I’ll hear comments about undecipherable, rigid rules, followed by a stream of excuses or complaints (or a mixture thereof).

Few of the rules contained in this book are inviolable. — The Chicago Manual of Style

Of course, there exist bureaucratic editors, on a mission to ensure that no one who breaks a rule be allowed to live in peace. Most of us, though, subscribe to a different ethic. We are here to make writing clearer, and we use the rules to serve that end.

Toward Consistency and Clarity

Rules

The rules of English were not written by a committee. They developed naturally, and they are complex. A style manual, such as the The Chicago Manual of Style, AP Stylebook, or even The Elements of Style by Strunk and White, is simply a book in which someone, or some group, has tried to collect those rules for reference. I think of it more as an encyclopedia or a dictionary than as a list of commandments. It is descriptive, rather than prescriptive.

Describing English Usage

The manual’s usefulness, then, is in describing how English is typically used. It is not a law-book, but rather a guide. Only when something is awkward or unclear to we resort to checking the rules.

But did I really say “how English is typically used”? I did, but I don’t mean the way it is used at your local mall. I mean the way it is used by the whole community of English speakers, from New York to Idaho, to Australia, England, and South Africa. From philosophers, both dead and alive, to rappers, and the people at your local mall.

To be understood by all literate English speakers (with an adequate vocabulary) is the writer’s goal, and the editor helps to reach that goal. Correct English is the English that makes that possible.

Remember to always split infinitives.

Angela — Thu, 01 May 2008 15:40:07 +0000

Remember to always split infinitives.

Well, ok, not always. But often. Whenever it works.

We have this handed-down wisdom that says an infinitive, a verb of the “to form” — to walk, to amble, to mosey — must always be preserved intact. Rules like this cripple writing. Even the esteemed editors of the Chicago Manual of Style agree with me.

In this day and age, it seems, an injunction against splitting infinitives is one of those shibboleths whose only reason for survival is to give increased meaning to the lives of those who can both identify by name a discrete grammatical, syntactic, or orthographic entity and notice when that entity has been somehow besmirched. — Chicago Manual Q&A

Concern yourself first with clarity and a pleasing sound. We do need grammar rules, but only when they help us achieve those things. When they get in the way, they should be ignored.

Avoid Passive Voice

Angela — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 01:52:28 +0000

Why was the road crossed by the chicken?

When a sentence starts with the thing being acted upon rather than the thing doing the acting, that sentence is in “passive voice.” For example, if you ask me where the hat is that you lent me, and I reply, “It got lost,” I have used the passive voice. A more honest and direct answer, using the active voice, would have been “I lost it.”

Active voice lends credibility.

In fact, passive voice is often used in order to avoid responsibility. “Mistakes were made” does not inspire trust and forgiveness the way “Our president made mistakes” can, especially if it’s followed up with specifics.

Active voice keeps readers interested.

In fiction, active voice helps keep the writing interesting and the reader engaged. “The front door was smashed by the speeding car” doesn’t grab the reader the way “The speeding car smashed in the front door.”

Sometimes passive voice is better.

A character’s personality comes through in his dialogue. Passive voice might show him to be a coward, a beaurocrat, or a hero-to-be who is about to grow in ways no one imagined.

Passive voice is also appropriate when you want to emphasize the thing being done, rather than the person doing it. “The tumor was completely destroyed by the radiation” is a fine way to give a patient the good news. On the other hand, if you were speaking at a conference for inventors of medical technology, you might want to stress the new treatment: “The radiation destroyed all traces of the tumor.”

As with the other writing principles you learn, avoiding passive voice is a generally good idea, but it’s not a rule. If anyone tells you otherwise, sent them to me. I’ll set ‘em straight.

Show, Don’t Tell

Angela — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 22:14:22 +0000

An exasperated author I know once wrote back to me saying, “Yeah, everybody says that: ‘show, don’t tell.’ But I can’t figure out what they mean! How do I know which is which?”

"Don’t say the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream." — Mark Twain

Of course, “show, don’t tell” is really figurative. In a literal way, an author is telling a story. The writer uses words, not paint, so it’s not possible to really show the weather on an August afternoon.

Let’s look at an example of telling, and see how it could be improved.

It was hot, and the sun was bright. There was no breeze at all. Jerry sat under a shade tree, staring off into the distance.

How can we invite the reader into the story by “showing” the scene? Don’t just tell the reader it was hot. Make her feel the sun in her eyes, the thirsty air.

Jerry sat under the big sycamore, squinting across the yard. Wiping the sweat from his eyes, he could see Rover lying in the shade of his doghouse. The dog hadn’t moved once, except to get a drink a half-hour ago. Even the trees slumped, lethargic in the still air.

The second version gives the reader images to work with. He can see the scene, and maybe feel it: a big sycamore, a thirsty dog in the shade, lethargic trees. Note that the word lethargic also reinforces what we’ve already seen in Jerry and the dog.

Passages involving people are often the most in need of improvement.

Sarah was infatuated with Eric. She stared at him all through the class.

The bell rang, and she got up quickly, wanting to stay close behind Eric while they walked to English. Unfortunately, she was in such a rush that she tripped.

Here we get the facts, and we can follow the story. But facts aren’t enough. The writer needs to grab the reader’s attention.

Chin in hand, Sarah sat staring at Eric. Thank goodness he was in the row ahead of hers, so he couldn’t catch her looking!

The bell startled her. She jumped up and gathered her books, then pushed forward so she wouldn’t lose sight of him on the way to English class. Just as she caught up, her foot slipped, and she knocked him out of the way before crashing to the ground with her books.

What happens next? Does Eric think she’s an idiot? Or does he help her up, charmed by her clumsiness? I don’t know about you, but I am a lot more curious after reading this version than I was after reading the first.

Sometimes dialogue is used to tell part of a story. That can be a great way to show relationships and emotional reactions. I can also be a pretty bad way to tell about plot necessities. Don’t mistake dialogue for painting a picture with words.

"Well, Suze, I’d like to go bowling with you, but I have to take Bill to visit his mom. Didn’t you hear? She got hit by a semi-truck on I-5 last week, and went into a coma. Turned out the driver was Sandy-Jo’s cousin, the one from Montana who just got out of prison. Remember, we were wondering what happened to him?"

It looks to me like a publisher requested a reduction in the number of words, and the writer didn’t want to lose any of the plot. But really, does the reader deserve to be put through this torture? I don’t think so.

I’ll leave you with one more set of examples.

The frightened family waited in the dining room for the storm to end. The oak tree outside was hit by a bolt of lightning, sending a large branch crashing into the house.

That last could have been taken from the insurance report their lawyer filed for them. What follows is, I hope, a more interesting description.

Sam and the girls huddled in the dining room while the wind rushed outside, and rain pounded the windows. Each thunder-crash was louder than the last. He felt a tingle, and then heard, or felt, a violent crash overhead. It had to be the oak.

The next time someone says that you need “more showing, less telling,” you can take it in stride. Now you know that they’re just looking for more involvement in the story. And you’re a writer. You can do that!

Give Your Story A Great Beginning

Angela — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 21:51:22 +0000

When you sit down to write, anything you can get on the screen (or paper) is a victory. That’s not the time to worry about making sure you have a powerful beginning. Too much of that kind of thinking can keep you from getting anywhere at all.

But when the beginning is so old you can barely remember writing it, it’s a good idea to go back with a fresh eye and hack it to pieces!

"The beautiful part of writing is that you don’t have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon." — Robert Cromier

Well, it’s true, you may have written something with a riveting first page, first chapter, even first half. But don’t bet on it.

Nothing to be scared of, though. You only have to change things when you have something better to put in their place. So your writing can only improve.

The Hook

A hook is what pulls the reader in. It’s what make the reader stop at the browsing table and keep reading. When I picked up The Glass Castle, by Jeannette Walls, I was immediately drawn in. The first sentence grabbed me, and what followed kept me interested.

"I was sitting in a taxi, wondering if I had overdressed for the evening, when I looked out the window and saw Mom rooting through a Dumpster."

A hook is not the same thing as a gimmick. If you take an uninteresting story, or one that is told in a dull way, and try to tack on hook at the beginning, you still won’t pull readers in. Readers are smart; if it doesn’t fit with the story, they won’t buy it.

The Fizzle Beginning

A tacked on, gimmicky hook is going to backfire.

I waited, but it was all I could do to keep from running. I checked my fingernails, fumbled in my purse. Then, a shadow moved to my left, and I stiffened.
“You ready to go?”
It was only David. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The trick is to start with an engaging story, and then find engaging ways to tell it. Concentrate on the first sentence, but also on the first paragraph, the first chapter, and beyond. If you can keep that focus up, you’ll find your writing habits have improved, and you’re crafting each sentence, rather than spitting them out.

The Quiet Beginning

Some beginnings aren’t really bold or exciting. But they’re not lacking in interest, either. It’s not the volume or outrageousness of your beginning that will give your story pizzazz.

"Hear that? It’s a car out on the highway. One went by yesterday, too."

Are you curious? I know I am.

A successful opening moves the story along somehow (or kick-starts it). What the reader wants is to be puzzled, to experience a little meaningful stress. Usually that means that your character is experiencing stress as well. If your character seems bored, it’s likely your reader will be too.

“Hey, Hon?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you could pick me up some socks while you’re out today?”

Of course, it isn’t completely hopeless. We can think of ways to make that opening quickly go somewhere interesting. But without heroic efforts, we’ll watch it dissolve into nothing, quickly.

The Irrelevant Beginning

Suppose I write a story about a woman who works with dolphins, falls in love and makes a great discovery, causing her beloved to become jealous of her success and do something horrible. If I start that story with a scene where she gets into her red Lotus and drives very fast to her office, and then don’t ever mention the Lotus again, I leave the reader hanging and dissatisfied. I could make it even more frustrating for the reader by introducing her mother, who we never see again, and mentioning a letter she gets in the mail before taking off for work, without ever saying who it was from or what it has to do with anything.

The Buried Beginning

One of the best ways I know to figure out the right place to start a story is to write whatever you like, then go back and figure out when the story starts happening. In the previous example, I may write all of the things I’ve mentioned, and then cut everything so that the story starts when she opens the door to the office to find…

Wait, I’m not telling!

A story with a good beginning is like a moving escalator. Once you start, it’s easier to keep moving along than to get off (by closing the book). If you let your story start where it starts you’ll be well on your way to having your reader hooked.

The First Five Pages, by Noah Lukeman

Angela — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 21:24:17 +0000

When I’m looking over a manuscript that’s been submitted to me for publication, the first thing I do is read the first five pages. At that point, I might toss it, or I might decide to read more. Apparently I’m not the only editor to take this approach.

Noah Lukeman is a successful literary agent, with plenty of experience rejecting manuscripts. In The First Five Pages he shares that experience with the reader, giving good advice about how a manuscript can be improved in the revision process to make it more likely to be accepted. If you’re thinking of doing your own editing, read this first.

Woe Is I, by Patricia O’Connor

Angela — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 21:07:06 +0000

"There are two kinds of editors. One sticks in that wherever it will fit. The other kind takes it out. They’re both wrong." — P. T. O’Connor

Woe is I is subtitled “The Grammarphobe’s Guide to Better English in Plain English,” and I can’t describe it better than that. O’Connor solves many of the stranger mysteries of English (“He resents me going” or “He resents my going”?) without resorting to the vocabulary of a high-school English teacher.

The last chapter, “Saying is Believing,” is a witty guide to making your writing clear.
These thirteen points, starting with “say what you have to say,” and “stop when you’ve said it,” give the writer concrete ways to improve his writing. These ten short pages are enough, on their own, to make the book worth reading and taking to heart.

Follow the Love » writing

Talking and Writing, Plain and Clear

Avoid cliché in your writing

Clichés to avoid

When cliché is a good idea

Twisted Cliché

Revealing a Character

Cliché Hunting

Writing Non-Fiction: Write an Outline

Clean, Effective Articles and Exposition

A Scramble or an Omelet?

How to Outline: Writing the Perfect Omelet

How to Create an Outline

What Counts as Correct English?

The Conspiracy

Toward Consistency and Clarity

Rules

Describing English Usage

Remember to always split infinitives.

Avoid Passive Voice

Active voice lends credibility.

Active voice keeps readers interested.

Sometimes passive voice is better.

Show, Don’t Tell

Give Your Story A Great Beginning

The Hook

The Fizzle Beginning

The Quiet Beginning

The Irrelevant Beginning

The Buried Beginning

The First Five Pages, by Noah Lukeman

Woe Is I, by Patricia O’Connor