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Putting it plainly
Few English words tumble from the tongue as musically as bafflegab. A satisfying mouthful of consonants, the term was invented in 1952 by Milton A. Smith, assistant general counsel for the United States Chamber of Commerce, to describe the impenetrable language of an order issued by the Office of Price Stabilization. Smith, later awarded a plaque for his nifty new word, felt that only a new term would do to convey the pricing document’s special blend of "incomprehensibility, ambiguity, verbosity and complexity." Today, though bafflegab is still with us, it is slowly but surely being wrestled to the sidelines by its nemesis, plain language. Over the past couple of decades, plain language—language that speaks to its audience clearly, concisely and directly—has gained a toehold in workplace writing, especially in the legal, financial and government sectors. The reason is simple: where bafflegab obfuscates, plain language communicates. What plain language isn’t First, let’s dispel some myths about plain language. Here are the top three held to by writers who barricade themselves behind bureaucratese. Myth 1: Plain language equals dull writing. Not so. The plain in plain language doesn’t mean boring or ordinary, as in a plain doughnut or plain Jane. It means clear and direct, as in the plain truth. The fact is, plain language is more concrete, lively and readable than wordier styles. Myth 2: Plain language dilutes content. Many fear that simple words and short sentences will dumb down a complex message. Nothing could be further from the truth. Plain language is the best and sometimes the only way to communicate complex ideas to a general audience, hence its growing popularity in fields like law, health care and securities. Myth 3: Writers who use plain language risk insulting educated, literate readers. This is an empty worry. Can you imagine any reader of a government brochure, user manual or company prospectus throwing the document aside and exclaiming, "I refuse to read this! It’s far too clear"? No one, regardless of reading level, likes to work unnecessarily to extract meaning from a document. What plain language is Plain language is all about the reader. Documents written in plain language are planned, drafted, edited and laid out to meet the reader’s needs, not the writer’s. All too often writers are self-centred; they adopt a style that satisfies something in themselves. They may want to impress. They may think verbose, inflated writing is somehow more "official." They may even be unsure of their message and hope that big words and sprawling sentences will camouflage their vagueness. The point is, writers who focus on their own needs leave their readers wanting. If we could reduce plain language to a motto, it would be "Know your readers." Why are they reading the document? What is their reading level? How well do they know the subject? Answering those questions, then choosing structure, vocabulary and style accordingly, is the only way to tailor a document to its audience. Plain language pointers Be concise Exercise what Thomas Jefferson called "the most valuable of all talent, that of never using two words where one will do." Shrink connectors: for the purpose of becomes for on account of the fact that becomes because Use adjectives and adverbs: of a scientific nature becomes scientific in a professional manner becomes professionally Avoid redundancies: repeat again becomes repeat large in size becomes large Use simple words Winston Churchill once said, "Short words are best, and the old words when short are best of all." (Politicians weren’t always the masters of bafflegab we have come to expect today.) When writing in plain language, resist the allure of flowery, multisyllabic words. And avoid jargon, which carries the clogging power of trans fat. significant becomes big, large disseminate becomes send out interface with becomes talk, contact, meet achieve cost savings becomes save money Avoid negatives Negative structures, those built around not, are longer and harder to understand than positive structures. Be especially ruthless with two or three negatives in a row. not often becomes rarely does not have becomes lacks not until becomes only when Use concrete words Words that create pictures are easier to understand than abstractions. written analysis becomes report nourishment becomes apple, sushi instrument of correspondence becomes letter, email Avoid weak verbs Verbs that express clear, precise actions are easier to understand than vague, actionless verbs. Transform weak verbs like be, have, do and make whenever you can. have the ability to becomes can do an analysis of becomes analyse make a recommendation about becomes recommend Word choice, which we’ve looked at here, is a key ingredient in the recipe for plain language. But there are others. Techniques like keeping sentences and paragraphs short, providing familiar examples, organizing content to meet readers’ needs and using illustrations and graphic aids are just as important in making documents clear and readable. Paradoxically, there is nothing simple about writing in plain language. That’s why bafflegab still permeates many workplaces: for many, it’s a familiar and easy lingo. But it’s a lingo that fails to deliver. George Orwell said it best in his famous 1946 essay, "Politics and the English Language": ". . . ready-made phrases come crowding in. They will construct your sentences for you—even think your thoughts for you, to a certain extent—and at need they will perform the important service of partially concealing your meaning even from yourself . . . ." Do we need a more convincing reason for putting it plainly?Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
Number of views: 2,942
Putting it (even more) plainly
Before we can make the most of plain language, we need to know what it is, what it isn’t and why it’s important in certain types of writing. The article "Putting It Plainly" addresses all of these questions and introduces some reliable pointers for turning the gumbo of gobbledygook into readable English. Now we’ll put each pointer to work by applying it to real-life sentences and passages. Be concise Eliminating wordiness is like straining spaghetti: we’ve got to dump the water but keep the pasta. Meaningless words drain away when we use simple modifiers and cut redundancies and empty phrases, as in this example: BEFORE Without a doubt, the current investment climate is changing with great rapidity and unpredictability, but investors are nonetheless encouraged to remain focused on those strategies that target the long term when making investment decisions. AFTER The investment climate is changing quickly and unpredictably. Still, we encourage you to focus on long-term strategies when you invest. Notice also that the "after" version splits the ideas into two sentences and introduces we and you, concrete, personal words the reader can relate to. The next revision uses possessive forms to save words and eliminates the redundancy of aware and alert. (Our love of words in threes can lure us into a fair amount of redundancy.) BEFORE The goal of our branch is, in effect, to communicate on a regular basis with our client sector groups, with the intent of remaining aware, alert and responsive in nature to the needs and concerns identified as being significant for these groups. AFTER Our branch’s goal is to communicate regularly with our clients so that we stay alert and responsive to their needs and concerns. Use simple words Sadly, no matter where we turn, we can be ambushed by the volleys of syllables that come from inflated, bureaucratic prose. Short, familiar words are the best defence. BEFORE It is stipulated in the quarterly plan that the company is required to undertake a thorough assessment of the alterations it has initiated to methods employed for the delivery of services. AFTER The quarterly plan requires the company to thoroughly assess how it has changed service delivery. As we’ve seen already, casting a passage in the first or second person can pave the way for simpler language: BEFORE There are certain individuals who assert that insufficient knowledge exists regarding the roles of mediators or what constitutes an effective mediator to enable the establishment of standards. AFTER Some say that to set standards, we must know more about what mediators do and what makes them effective. Avoid negatives The previous revision does more than just simplify the words; it conveys the ideas using positive rather than negative language. In other words, it tells the reader what is rather than what isn’t. Steer clear of negatives whenever you can, especially when they are piled on top of one another. BEFORE Persons other than the applicant will not be entitled to receive this document package. AFTER Only the applicant can receive this document package. Use concrete words Precise, concrete words that allow readers to visualize help to convey meaning quickly and easily. General, abstract words, on the other hand, are hard to pin down. Consider this passage: Again, we should not be limited to only one scenario or adaptation strategy. We must reflect the diversity of the different sensitivities and the different adaptive capacity that exists within the natural system and also in the interface between the human and natural systems. What on earth does this mean? Between scenarios and adaptation strategies, natural systems and adaptive capacities, there are no concrete images to fasten on. Airy and ungraspable, the passage slips away from us like an untethered balloon. Often the only way to improve abstract language is to ask yourself—or the writer, if that’s not you—what the text is really trying to say. Some passages, like the one above, are so vague that we can’t translate them into plain language without more information. Here’s another example that cries out for more concrete language, not to mention an overall trim: BEFORE Public affairs officers have, as one of their chief responsibilities, the resolution of any inaccurate factual representations or misconceptions that could have an impact on public misunderstanding of the operations of the Department. AFTER Public affairs officers must correct any errors or distortions that could lead the public to see the Department’s activities in the wrong light. Avoid weak verbs The previous example also illustrates the power of a few good verbs. Weak verbs like be and have, which most writers overuse, tend to travel with wordy companions—long, abstract nouns, which interestingly are often derived from verbs. Rubbing out the weak-verb + noun combo and substituting a more precise verb is a key plain language technique. BEFORE At this time the firm is engaged in an assessment of its procedures for the development of new products. AFTER The firm is assessing its procedures for developing new products. BEFORE There was discussion among the members of senior management with regard to the ongoing persistence of difficulties of communication that managers had with the personnel who reported to them. AFTER Senior managers discussed the ongoing communication problems between managers and their staff. Remember the reader Plain language means more than just choosing words carefully; it also means writing to meet the reader’s needs. Documents that fail to take their audience into account can miss the mark no matter how clear their language. I was reminded of this axiom years ago, when an email from Air Canada turned up in my inbox. "Concerning your upcoming flight" was the subject line. I did have a flight booked, so this was a good lead-in. It caught my attention and told me why I should read on. But that was where the plain language ended. The body of the email announced that within a few days Air Canada would introduce Onboard Café, an exciting new service that would offer an array of meals and snacks for sale. If I needed more information, I was told, I could visit Air Canada’s website. Well, I did need more information. The email had overlooked a basic question—to me, the most important question. Was Onboard Café simply expanding the existing selection of for-sale food items (cheerfully hawked as "movie snacks") on long-haul flights? Or was it replacing the traditional offering of hot, and more importantly free, foil-wrapped entrees that I, like most travellers, had come to depend on? I visited Air Canada’s website hoping for clarification. Here’s what I got: Our new Onboard Café offers choice, value and greater flexibility. You decide what meal-type to purchase onboard. We are pleased to offer our Hospitality Service customers with [sic] a popular new innovative menu of reasonably priced items. Enjoy a tasty sandwich, hot pizza or simply indulge on [sic] a popular snack, the choice is all yours. This new service is now offered on all Continental North American flight [sic] of 1h30 [sic] or longer (Hawaiian and Mexican destinations excluded). The words in this passage are easy to understand (though occasionally redundant); the sentences are short (though badly punctuated); the ideas are clear (though somewhat disorganized). Yet as a communication, the document failed. My number-one question as a reader was answered nowhere. In the end it took an email to Air Canada to extract the news that, as air travellers now know, the pay-as-you-go service would replace the free meals. Why didn’t the airline’s documents say as much? I’d wager that someone decided it’s bad PR to tell people they’re losing something that once was free; it’s better to tell them they’re getting something new. Is that sound PR? Maybe. Is it plain language? Nope. Air Canada’s documents were writer-centred, serving the airline’s needs instead of the reader’s, and because of that they communicated badly. There may be no more free meals, but here’s some free advice: remember your readers and always write for them. That’s the essence of plain language.Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
Number of views: 2,115
Getting to the point with bullets
There’s a natural association between language and bullets. Around 1600, in Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare referred to "quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain." In 1900 Danish critic Georg Brandes used bullet imagery to extol the power of print: "Poor is the power of the lead that becomes bullets compared to the power of the hot metal that becomes types." A while back an editing colleague raised the subject, saying: "Bullets will be the death of me." As you might have guessed, my colleague was in despair over bullet points—or more precisely bulleted lists, or vertical lists, as some guides call them because the items can be preceded by things other than bullets: numbers, letters, dashes, smiley faces (if you’re under 16) and the like. Bullets: friend or foe? The workplace has some advantages over the bad side of town, one being that in the office, bullets are usually our friend. Because bullets differentiate a list from the surrounding text, they attract the reader's eye to that list. And because they dole out ideas line by line, they make processing those ideas much easier. Bulleted lists are as much about design as they are about language. In fact, they follow all four principles outlined in The Non-Designer’s Design Book by Robin Williams. (Not that Robin Williams, the king of comedy. This Robin Williams is the queen, because she is a woman, of page design.) In Williams’ opinion, an effective design embodies the following four principles: Contrast: Differentiated elements on a page draw the reader’s attention. Repetition: Repeated visual elements give a sense of organization and unity. Alignment: Related elements should line up on the page in some deliberate way. Proximity: Related elements should be grouped together into one visual unit. (Williams apologizes for the somewhat tasteless acronym that these principles spell out.) Bullets are great for lists that are important or complex and need highlighting. But like boldface, or any other device that’s meant to highlight, bulleted lists can be overused. Readers subjected to page after page of bullets—think of it as literary buckshot—will be confused by a bunch of scattered ideas that never cohere. What’s more, some material doesn’t lend itself to bullets. Can you imagine a novel or other sustained narrative featuring bulleted lists? Not really (though there are a few novels out there based on tweets; reading them must feel like skipping through endless bullet points). Finally, think very, very hard before using sub-bullets. Then go out for a latte and think about it some more. The nested levels of information created by secondary bullets make for difficult reading and almost impossible scanning. Avoid sub-bullets wherever possible. Styling bullets I lived in the province of Quebec from 2000 to 2005. On my first visit to the local grocery store, I found myself in a section I had never seen anywhere else in Canada, had never even imagined: the gravy aisle. We’re talking not one, not two, but dozens of brands and flavours of canned gravy. And that’s not counting the envelopes of powdered mix. (Long live poutine, I guess.) Deciding on the right style for bullet points—how to punctuate and capitalize them—is like buying gravy in Quebec. The options are staggering. The idea is to settle on a style that suits your material and your audience, then apply it consistently. So which style do you choose? Here’s where we encounter an unsettling fact: there are no rules for styling bulleted lists. Because a bulleted list is a graphic aid as much as a sentence, regular language rules don’t apply. Instead, texts like The Canadian Style (2nd ed., 1997) offer guidelines for styling bulleted lists, some of which strike some writers (this one, for instance) as needlessly complicated. To keep bullets simple and consistent, I take a dual approach to styling them, based on whether the items in the list are complete sentences or partial sentences. Complete sentences A sentence is a beautiful thing, so why mess with it? I treat bulleted sentences like . . . sentences: capitalize the first word, end with a period. Bulleted lists are tricky for three reasons: It’s important to use them without overusing them. There are no hard-and-fast rules for styling them. The items in the list need to be parallel. Partial sentences When the bulleted items are not complete sentences, I gauge the material and the audience, then decide on either no punctuation or full punctuation. Material that’s meant to be reader-friendly or scannable, or that has a strong visual dimension (brochures, posters, PowerPoint slides), benefits from the clean style of no punctuation. Material that’s dense or primarily text-oriented is a good candidate for full punctuation. As for capitalizing, since there’s no rule, I think about how the list will look in relation to the other text around it. Usually (but not always), with minimal punctuation I capitalize, and with full punctuation I don’t. Bulleted lists are tricky for three reasons: Possibility of overuse Absence of hard-and-fast style rules Requirement for parallelism OR Bulleted lists are tricky for three reasons: possibility of overuse; absence of hard-and-fast style rules; and (the and is optional) requirement for parallelism. Bullet style: a modest proposal Complete sentences Cap first word, period after every bulleted item Partial sentences Option 1: Caps/no caps, no punctuation after any bulleted item Option 2: Caps/no caps, semicolons after all bulleted items except a period after the last one Balancing bullets I’m sometimes asked in workshops, "What’s the right way to punctuate a bulleted list when some items are partial sentences and some are complete?" The answer: There is no right way. The items in a bulleted list have to be parallel, both in their wording (all beginning with the same type of word) and their structure (all being partial sentences or all being complete, but not a mixture of the two). To balance a teetering list, do whatever is more feasible: either change all the partial sentences to complete ones or vice versa. Consider this unruly example: The candidate for the EEE (Eminent English Editor) position must be able to do the following: Analyze documents to determine the level of editing needed Revise documents to make them clear, consistent and logical Correct errors in grammar, punctuation, spelling, style and syntax Communicate effectively orally and in writing. The ideal candidate will be able to speak and write in English and French. Interpersonal skills Clearly, the last two bullets are out of synch. Turning the second-last bullet into a partial sentence, and beginning the last one with a verb, should do the trick: Communicate effectively orally and in writing, ideally in English and French (or the ideally phrase could be set in parentheses) Demonstrate interpersonal skills (or Deal well with others or other wording) The fact that there are few rules for when to create bullet points, and no rules for how to style them, can be frustrating (witness my colleague’s "death by bullets" pronouncement). But if you take the absence of rules as permission to be creative, it can instead be liberating. Use bullets when they’re helpful, style them consistently and keep them parallel, and the calibre of your document is bound to improve.Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
Number of views: 1,937
More secrets of syntax
Some Secrets of Syntax introduced ways of playing with the basic subject + verb + object syntax of the English sentence to build anticipation and emphasis. This article looks at how rearranging syntax can make a document, be it a report, newsletter or website, more readable by boosting rhythm and adding variety. Rhythm Why think about rhythm? "A writer’s pursuit of stylistic fluency is not complete without attention to the music created by words and sentences—to the rhythm of language." (Doug Babington and Don LePan, Broadview Guide to Writing) Rhythm is by no means the sole province of poets and musicians. Anyone who encounters a prose passage that pleases the ear as well as the mind knows the satisfaction that comes from the rhythm of words. With the possible exception of user manuals and other instructions, writing that has a spring in its step (to mangle a metaphor) stands a far greater chance of being read than prose that plods doggedly along. Rhythm and syllabic stresses In language, rhythm arises largely from alternating stressed and unstressed syllables. Strict rhythm that follows a definable meter may be overkill in most workplace writing, but in the right situations—opening or closing sentences, headings, tag lines, speeches—it can be the secret to a memorable sentence. I remember several years ago writing a promotional blurb for my punctuation workshop. Most of the description was finished, but I was struggling with the opening line. Here’s what I had: As the old saying goes, God is in the details. For reasons I couldn’t articulate, I wasn’t satisfied with the sentence. As a lead-in to capture readers’ attention, it seemed flat and (through no fault of the content) not quite right. I tinkered, then tinkered some more, then came up with this: God is in the details, the old saying goes. Suddenly, the sentence came alive. It had rhythm. Specifically, it had trochee, a pattern that switches between stressed and unstressed syllables (think of pick-up hock-ey). Trochee is an easy rhythm to overuse—too much of it and your report will sound like a Mother Goose tale—but for this one important sentence, it did the trick. Here is another example of how tighter rhythm can lift a sentence to a new level: A few were lucky enough to escape the fire. A lucky few escaped the fire. The second sentence relies on iamb, a pattern that, in a reversal of trochee, alternates unstressed and stressed syllables (in-tense re-lief). As brief as it is, this second sentence has music in it. Rhythm and intonation Rhythm also comes from intonation, the way the voice naturally rises and falls as it moves through a sentence. The easiest way to create this kind of rhythm is to repeat a series of parallel phrases or clauses, a technique Tom Wolfe masterfully wields in his novel A Man in Full: "He loved all those board meetings too much, loved being up on the dais at all those banquets too much, loved all those tributes to Inman Armholster the great philanthropist, all those junkets to the north of Italy, the south of France, and God knew where else on Armaxco’s Falcon 900, all those minions jumping every time he so much as crooked his little finger." Variety Why think about variety? "This writing is boring. Boring!" (Or so nearly every reader—even you—may think at one time or another) No one, no matter how disciplined or earnest or technically minded or scholarly, really wants a steady diet of monotonous sentences. And monotony is exactly what we get with an unending cascade of subject + verb + object sentences. Take note of the length and structure of your sentences and don’t be afraid to mix them up from time to time, even in formal, businesslike writing. The only risk you run is that readers might find the material (heaven forbid) appealing. Variety and sentence length Are your sentences all the same length? That’s one recipe for monotony. Most writing benefits from a framework of medium-length sentences with some longer and shorter ones hammered on for good measure. It can be especially effective to follow a long sentence with a short one so as to highlight the short sentence: Many scientists hail Dr. Spudnik’s research as groundbreaking, stressing its relevance to both the practice and study of tuber cultivation. We disagree. Variety and sentence type Most writing relies on the declarative sentence (statement). To change it up, try an occasional interrogative (question) or imperative (command). Besides adding variety, the switch changes the emphasis and speaks directly to the reader: According to the United Nations Food and Agriculture Organization, the world consumes roughly 3.5 billion cubic metres of wood each year. How much wood is that? Coal-burning plants harm the environment in various ways, one of which is contributing to acid rain. But consider the alternatives. Another way to liven up prose is to mix cumulative and periodic sentences. If your response to that advice is "Huh?" you’re not alone. These sentence types are virtual strangers outside the world of grammar and rhetoric. The cumulative sentence, also known as the "loose" sentence, is the more common type in English. It begins with the main idea in an independent clause, then tacks on elaborating details. The cumulative sentence mirrors how we speak: we usually first articulate our main idea, then add caveats and embellishments afterward. This similarity gives cumulative sentences a conversational feel: One company that has readied itself for climate change is Trees & Such, a family-owned forest products company with a long history in western Canada. "Perfectionism will ruin your writing, blocking inventiveness and playfulness and life force (these are words we are allowed to use in California)." (Anne Lamott) The periodic sentence, on the other hand, builds up to the independent clause, which appears at the end. Because periodic sentences delay the main message, they seem carefully composed, unlikely to have hurried off the tongue. Their ordered, writerly flavour makes a nice counterpoint to cumulative sentences. They are also the perfect structure when your main message is striking or surprising: Thanks to the combined efforts of government and industry, and with funding from the largest research unit in eastern Canada, the 3G (Garbage Going Green) program has developed dozens of new uses for recycled materials. "Early one morning, under the arc of a lamp, carefully, silently, in smock and leather gloves, old Doctor Manza grafted a cat’s head onto a chicken’s trunk." (Dylan Thomas) Variety and sentence openings If all your sentences begin the same way (with the subject, for instance), readers soon become hypnotized, and not in a good way. Snap them out of it by varying your sentence openings. Transitional words and phrases The boy’s elders said that young warriors build strength and wisdom by making mistakes, by learning from failure. Yet what did they know about fighting dragons? She barely escaped being swept away in the icy mountain stream. After that, her outlook on adventure changed drastically. Adjectives and adverbs Weak but elated, the climbers hoisted themselves onto the rocky peak. Surprisingly, no one disputed Leo’s self-proclaimed title of Gyroscope Guru. Phrases and dependent clauses Sitting in the window and surveying the lavender fields below her, Aimee felt happy and lucky to be alive. To qualify for flight training, you must be in good physical condition and pass a written test. As the soothsayer had foretold, the crops withered and a pestilence struck the livestock. Reading these sentences, did you notice their beat? The minute you diversify sentence structure, you also diversify rhythm. And that’s the beauty of paying attention to syntax. A small shift here and there creates a ripple through the document, and the reader is buoyed pleasantly along.Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
Number of views: 1,865
Style myths
One reason I’m a writer is Mrs. Graham, my Grade 9 English teacher at Malcolm Munroe Memorial Junior High in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Brusque, towering, occasionally apoplectic and always, always right, Mrs. Graham hectored and drilled every adolescent who slouched sullen-faced before her on how to write a paragraph, create a transition, use a semicolon. In contrast to her drill sergeant bearing, Mrs. Graham was more an advocate of should than must. She taught us principles of good writing, but never packaged those principles as absolutes. That’s admirable. Surely for anyone trying to penetrate the swampy heads of thirteen- and fourteen-year-olds, not typically prized for their sound judgment and subtle discernment, absolutes are a temptation, one that some teachers must succumb to. Why else would so many people hold fast to certain "rules" of effective writing that they picked up in school, dragged doggedly behind them through post-secondary studies, then installed without question in their professional lives? The sad truth is, the way we learn to write in school is often at odds with the way we should write at work. At school, the aim is to produce writing that conforms to certain guidelines. In the workplace, the aim is usually to convey information to readers. Mastering the art of informational writing often means jettisoning lessons we learned from teachers and professors, lessons that don’t serve readers well. MYTH: Formal writing is preferable to informal. FACT: Informal or less formal writing is often preferable because it engages readers and is easier to understand. In school, many of us learned to write "formal prose": essays, lab reports, research papers and the like. That experience accounts for the widespread conviction that the best writing is formal and academic—writing that someone has laboured over, cramming it full of stilted syllables. The late Charles W. Morton, associate editor at the Atlantic Monthly, once dubbed this the "elongated yellow fruit" school of writing. Morton borrowed the term from one reporter’s description of the bananas police used to lure some escaped monkeys back into captivity. Morton, appalled by this puffery, asked fellow journalists to submit other examples of writing that was not content with precise, ordinary words. He got what he asked for, including a Boston American ski column that called snow "the elusive white substance" and a Travel magazine description of skiers running the slopes on "the beatified barrel staves." The belief that writing must be buttoned-up and long-winded, that it must at all times carry the sombre tones of Writing, is one of the most tenacious style myths around. The truth is that the best way to please readers is to write as informally as the situation will allow. Address readers directly, use a few contractions, choose simpler words, write shorter sentences. The message gets through much more easily when the divide between the reader and the writer is narrow, when the reader feels almost part of a conversation. Granted, formality is linked with genre and audience. Cabinet briefings, legislation and UN addresses must by necessity be formal. Promotional material, websites and newsletters are often not. Many other documents fall somewhere in between. To write effectively, we must gauge our medium and our audience, then adopt the right tone. But we must also be mindful that to convey information clearly, we have to engage our readers. That’s as hard to accomplish with formal writing as it is to play baseball in wedding garb. Example: In order to effectuate the production of writing whose quality is exceptional, it is not a requirement that formal language be employed in every circumstance or eventuality. That is, writing well doesn’t have to mean writing formally. MYTH: Good writing is always in the third person. FACT: First and second person are fine in most types of writing, and are preferable in some. This myth is tied to the previous one. Just as many people were schooled to drape their writing with the cloak of formality, so they were instructed to avoid any references to first and second person. Once students move beyond grade school and the obligatory "what I did during summer vacation" essays, they are discouraged from writing papers that say "I believe such-and-such" or "You may find that so-and-so." First and second person are too direct, they are told, and too personal. As a result, many people forgo we and you in their workplace writing. But the fact is, readers are people, and like most of us, they like to talk to and read about other people. Most of us don’t really want to get our safety tips for overseas travel from a branch or a unit, or our statistics on consumer spending from an institute or a trade group. We want to get them from human beings. Using first person (I, we, us) when referring to the writer or originator of the information and second person (you) when referring to the reader or receiver is one of the most effective ways to convey information. The reason is simple: the more directly we address our readers, the more likely they are to pay attention. That is particularly the case for documents that give directions, instructions, policies, guidelines, procedures and advice. Example: It is common for individuals who teach writing to recommend that people creating workplace documents consider the benefit of first and second person on the audience. In other words, I encourage you to think about how first and second person can benefit your audience. MYTH: Never write a one-sentence paragraph. FACT: Occasionally, one sentence may be all a paragraph needs. Once again, it’s common to pick up this myth in the schoolroom. In Grade 9, Mrs. Graham had us memorize the classic paragraph structure: first, a topic sentence to announce what the paragraph will cover; next, three to five sentences that support the topic; then a sentence that either sums up or telegraphs the next paragraph. But Mrs. Graham never said a paragraph had to contain that many sentences, and I learned later, from reading good authors, that one sentence is sometimes enough. A single-sentence paragraph can serve as a neat transition between major ideas or large sections. If the transitional statement is clear enough, there may be no need to belabour it for the sake of having more sentences. As well, a single-sentence paragraph can emphasize a key point, boosting its contrast, for instance, or its dramatic effect. A single-sentence paragraph also has the virtue of being short. Short paragraphs are nearly always better than long ones because they break down ideas and make them easy to digest. As William Zinsser says in his classic On Writing Well: "Writing is visual—it catches the eye before it has a chance to catch the brain. Short paragraphs put air around what you write and make it look inviting, whereas a long chunk of type can discourage a reader from even starting to read." First impressions matter, no less in writing than in life. Example: The "But Mrs. Graham" paragraph above is only one sentence long. It creates a transition between the lessons of the past in the previous paragraph, and those of the present in the upcoming paragraph. MYTH: Use synonyms wherever possible to avoid the monotony of repetition. FACT: Using synonyms can cause confusion; repetition of some terms is essential for clarity. Well-meaning teachers (like Mrs. Graham) encourage their students to build vocabulary by learning synonyms. An admirable goal, no question. After all, describing everything as nice, good or interesting is lame, and there’s a wide world of verbs out there besides be, do and make. It’s one thing to vary our vocabulary when writing for academic, literary or other writerly reasons; it’s another to do it when writing for informational, reader-centred reasons. In the latter case we need to keep terms consistent, particularly when naming specific things or concepts. If something is a strategy, we need to call it a strategy. If, for the sake of variation, we later call it a program, then a project, then a plan, readers get confused. Is the summer employment strategy the same thing as the summer work project? Or are they different? The trick is to distinguish between good repetition and bad repetition. Bad repetition comes from mindlessly recycling words, especially verbs, modifiers or catch phrases that we could either spell off or weed out. Good repetition comes from intentionally using the same term to keep the reader on track. Good repetition clarifies and reinforces, reassuring us that a policy is a policy, a surveyor a surveyor, a hard drive a hard drive. The more difficult the material, the more unvarying the specific terms should be. Example: The repetition of certain words that don’t need to be repeated constitutes excessive repetition and can be seen as bad repetition. On the other hand, the repetition of a term to prevent confusion among similar terms can be seen as good repetition. Mrs. Graham also taught us that every essay requires a conclusion (another myth, since it’s okay to dispense with a formal ending once in a while). I would like to conclude by acknowledging that it can be tough to let go of misconceptions, especially ones we’ve nurtured for years or even decades. But when those misconceptions interfere with clear communication, when they put the writer’s needs and preferences before the reader’s, letting go is the only thing to do.Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
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Boost your eQ (email intelligence)
You may know your IQ (intelligence quotient) and maybe even your EQ (emotional intelligence), but what about your eQ? Email intelligence is a quotient that’s little known and seldom measured . . . well, make that not known and never measured, since I’ve basically just made up the term. But even though eQ doesn’t really exist, we know when someone has it. When we get an email from a high-eQ correspondent, we read it quickly and easily, we understand the main points and we know how or if we should respond. When we get an email from someone less gifted, the reading becomes more arduous. According to plain language specialist Michel Gauthier, who has studied email in the workplace, here are the leading complaints: Too much low-level and untargeted information Unclear purpose No logical structure Too long Too difficult to understand Key information difficult to find If you boost your eQ by learning a few email pointers, you’ll rise above all these pitfalls. Maximize the subject line The subject line is the lure. Word it well and recipients will begin reading with a clear idea of what the message contains. The trick is to make the subject line specific while keeping it short, and to tell your readers how the email relates to them. Otherwise, they may assume the message is a general FYI and hit delete. Besides announcing the email’s content, the subject line should, if possible, alert readers to any action required. NO Survey informationYES Draft survey attached: review by Jan. 9 NO Organizational changeYES New staff join us next week NO Christmas partyYES Please contribute to our Christmas potluck Begin with a bang Crafting a precise, reader-oriented subject line is the first step toward giving your email a clear purpose. The second is to announce your key message(s) at the beginning. Doesn’t this just duplicate the subject line? Not really. Think of the subject line as your knock on the door. Once the reader opens up, you still have to say why you’ve come calling. State the purpose of your email up front, in the opening paragraph or two. To do this, you need to have defined your purpose beforehand. Ask yourself why you’re writing. Are you informing the reader of a situation? If so, begin with "For your information . . ." (or "FYI," if your reader knows the shorthand), then state the main topic, then follow with the details. Are you asking the reader to do something? If so, start with the request, then fill in the supporting information and background. If there’s a time line associated with your email—especially if the reader needs to review something, reply or take action by a certain day—don’t bury the date at the end of the email. If you do, the reader may glance at the opening, file your email for later and miss the deadline. Ditch the optional details Nothing tests a reader’s patience like irrelevant information. Once again, how your email begins is crucial. Many writers feel compelled to lead their reader on a gentle, meandering path to the main point and always begin at the beginning (chronologically speaking), with background information. The trouble is, background details are meaningless, and often irritating, to a reader who doesn’t know why they’re being supplied. State your purpose clearly, then add only those details the reader needs to understand the email. Use hyperlinks and attachments to provide background, charts and other supporting details that are too in-depth for the email itself. Be clear and concise Clear and concise writing is a must for emails, perhaps more than for any other type of writing. Given how many workplace emails people get (an average of 54 a day, says Christina A. Cavanagh in her 2004 paper "Email in the Workplace: Coping with Overload") and how little time they have to read them, the risks are plain—a long email may not get read. How long should your email be? Common wisdom says no more than one screen length. Curb connectors Avoid using phrases to make connections. Simple prepositions and conjunctions do the job better. NO with regard to, in connection with, on account of the fact that, in the event of YES about, on, because, if Pass on passives Passive voice is not only wordier than active, it’s also less clear. NO It is recommended . . . A decision has been made . . . YES We recommend . . . We have decided . . . The decision is . . . Minimize modifiers Delete non-essential modifiers such as very, highly, slightly, greatly and somewhat. If the modifier adds an important nuance, consider switching to a more precise word. very important = crucial highly focused = concentrated slightly worried = concerned Consider contractions Contractions cut word count and remind the reader that there’s a real person—approachable, readable, persuasive—behind the @ symbol. Use your judgment, though. Contractions may be too breezy for formal emails. Shrink sentences Keep each sentence to one main idea, plus maybe a supporting idea. Anything longer and a busy reader will lose the thread. Pare down paragraphs Email paragraphs should be shorter than their print-based counterparts. Run-on text with nary a pause gives the impression that your material is dense and hard to read. Three to four sentences maximum is a good length. Use headings and lists Just like a peruser of print documents, an email reader needs help focusing on key information. Headings and lists (numbered or bulleted) quickly convey what your main points are. And they show where your main points are, an important plus for emails that readers might refer to again in the future. Use headings and lists together with forecasting statements, and readers will know exactly where they’re headed. For example, if you’re writing to ask the reader three questions, say: I have three questions for you. Then list the questions, numbered 1, 2, 3. This allows the reader to mentally tick off each question when replying. If your content doesn’t lend itself to a numbered list, try linking the forecasting statement to headings. For example: At the meeting we’ll discuss two topics: our upcoming retreat and our quarterly budget. Then use the headings "Upcoming Retreat" and "Quarterly Budget" to structure the information that follows. Be clear about follow-up Follow-up actions are best grouped together at the end of the email, so they’re the final ideas the reader is left with. Use a simple, clear heading such as "Actions to Take," "Next Steps" or "Your Tasks." For easy reading and future reference, put the actions in a numbered list rather than one continuous paragraph. That way, the reader will finish your email thinking, "Okay, I have four things to do." And if you’re lucky, the reader may also think, "Wow. What a high eQ!"Source: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
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To be or not to be: Maintaining sentence unity
Usually when sentence unity turns up on the agenda at the workshops I teach, participants look at me blankly. Who can blame them? The term, though a chapter heading in many grammar and writing texts, is vague at best. So I normally introduce the topic by explaining what sentence unity means. Here are four possible explanations. Which one or ones are correctly worded? Sentence unity is where you make sure the subject and predicate of a sentence join logically. Sentence unity is when the parts of a sentence come together grammatically and make sense. The reason sentence unity is important is because without it, a sentence is incoherent. Sentence unity is taking care to keep sentence parts in line. If you found fault with all of these sentences, congratulations. Their content is fine, but all four are awkwardly constructed. Each illustrates a sentence unity problem—a logical and grammatical hitch in how the subject and predicate join together. In each case the hitch centres on the verb to be. To be, at first glance an innocent, workaday verb, can be surprisingly difficult to use correctly. Here’s a look at the most common ways writers misfire with this verb, destroying sentence unity in the process. Is where The word where, of course, denotes place. Yet writers often use where after the verb to be when referring to terms or concepts that have nothing to do with place. The result? Sentences like the following, which lack unity and suffer from both logical and grammatical problems. Origami is where you fold paper into shapes and objects that will delight and amaze the whole family. The logical problem is that origami is not a place. It’s therefore not accurate to say that origami is where anything takes place. Here’s a possible revision: Origami is the art of folding paper into shapes and objects that will delight and amaze the whole family. The grammatical problem is more complicated. If you’re a grammar keener, you’ll know that to be is a linking verb, and like all linking verbs it needs to be completed by either a noun or an adjective, or a phrase or clause that serves as a noun or an adjective. But where, a conjunction that refers to place, always begins an adverb clause. Strictly speaking, this means that following to be with where should produce a grammatically disjointed sentence every time. Nowadays, however, only the most prescriptive grammarian would condemn the structure outright. It’s generally agreed that when the subject of the sentence is a place, it’s fine to use is where. China is where the art of paper-folding originated, but Japan is where it is most widely practised. Is when Is when wreaks the same sort of havoc in writing as is where. Consider this illogical sentence, which regrettably appears in an online writing guide from a California college: Unity is when all the sentences in a paragraph stick to the main point, as stated in the topic sentence. The word when refers to time, but unity is not a time. This sentence is just as incorrect as the is where sentence above. It could be rewritten like this: Unity results when all the sentences in a paragraph stick to the main point, as stated in the topic sentence. Like where, when is generally acceptable after the verb to be when its use is logical—that is, when its subject refers to a time. New Year’s Day is when many people resolve to kick nicotine forever. The reason . . . is because An even more widespread problem, the reason . . . is because is an expression that routinely springs to mind when we have some explaining to do. The reason Sheila left the fundraising dinner early was because she had had her fill of lame political jokes and leathery prime rib. This sentence is snarled because because, like where and when, begins an adverb structure, not a noun or adjective structure, which should ideally follow to be. But unlike is where and is when, the reason . . . is because is uniformly panned by grammar texts and usage guides, largely because in addition to being grammatically suspicious, it’s redundant. The reason is and because mean the same thing. It’s therefore best to avoid the reason . . . is because entirely. There are two easy fixes: (1) eliminate the reason . . . is and just keep because or (2) use that in place of because. The first approach is often better because it produces a more concise sentence. Sheila left the fundraising dinner early because she had had her fill of lame political jokes and leathery prime rib. The reason Sheila left the fundraising dinner early was that she had had her fill of lame political jokes and leathery prime rib. To be in definitions Anyone who has composed a definition knows the peculiar pain of trying to capture the essence of something in words. Part of the difficulty is that definitions so often hinge on the verb to be, which is almost an equals sign in such a sentence, equating the term to its definition. Definitions require a precise balancing of subject and predicate. Notice the awkwardness of these two attempts: A turophile is being a connoisseur or lover of cheese. Taxidermy is a lifelike representation of an animal constructed from its preserved skin. Looking at the first sentence as if it were an equation helps to pinpoint the imbalance: a turophile (a person) = being something (an action). The sentence unity problem is clear: a person cannot equal an action. Here’s a better attempt: A turophile is a connoisseur or lover of cheese. If we analyse the second sentence, we see that taxidermy (the process) = the representation of the animal (the stuffed animal itself). Once again, the sentence unity is askew. To be must be followed by a noun that says precisely what taxidermy is. Taxidermy is the craft of constructing a lifelike representation of an animal from its preserved skin. Logic, balance and patience—that’s what it takes to construct unified sentences with to be. A simple verb that’s deceptively hard to use, to be is nonetheless a verb no writer can be without. Related quiz Test yourself—To be or not to be: Maintaining sentence unitySource: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
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Test yourself—More questions from the inbox
Is the sentence correct or does it contain a problem? Read the article More questions from the inbox to help you out.1. “Cities would be a lot friendlier,” said Jeb, “if they had less people in them.”is correcthas a problem2. There looked to be at least nine students stuffed into the Volkswagen Beetle inexplicably parked on the roof of the administration building.is correcthas a problem3. Having moved away at 12, Rashida’s hometown no longer seemed familiar.is correcthas a problem4. Chuckling contentedly to herself, the baby spattered the opposite wall with applesauce.is correcthas a problem5. The bitter critic who writes for our newspaper belittles any movie made in Hollywood and gives fewer glowing reviews than anyone else in the business.is correcthas a problem6. The security guard’s walk across the lawn, down to the river and along the bicycle path to the stone archway, took him through most of the property under his care.is correcthas a problemSource: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
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Test yourself—New questions from the inbox
Is the sentence correct or does it contain a problem? Read the article New questions from the inbox to help you out.1. Canada medalled in women’s speed skating again last night, making this the third podium visit for the women’s team in the past four days.is correcthas a problem2. Zara is experienced in web design, social media and public relations; as such, she is a perfect fit for the job.is correcthas a problem3. The Ribinskis’ application to build a combined House of Tacos and Paintball Park is the most intriguing we have seen all year, and we will progress it through council without delay.is correcthas a problem4. Zara is an experienced web designer, social media consultant and public relations specialist; as such, she is a perfect fit for the job.is correcthas a problem5. I would like to set the record straight, that is, to prove to you that I had nothing to do with the damage to Seth’s cubicle or the theft of his Darth Vader action figures.is correcthas a problem6. MineXco has a strict protocol in place at its facilities to prevent any exceedance of pollutants and, as such, the company expects to improve its environmental performance in the coming year.is correcthas a problemSource: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
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Test yourself—Further questions from the inbox
Choose the correct word. Read the article Further questions from the inbox to help you out.1. Graciously yet firmly, Aunt Matilda declined the kipper-topped waffles we offered her for breakfast, explaining that she was still digesting all the (food/foods) she’d eaten the night before.foodfoods2. Following this section (is/are) several case studies that illustrate the importance of having regular dental checkups.isare3. Ever since we bought the Downturnshire Abbey series on DVD, that British mail order company has been sending monthly catalogues to my roommate and (I/me).Ime4. Omar’s wardrobe for the weekend getaway (comprised/was comprised of) two designer suits, four pressed shirts, a silk bathrobe, flip-flops and a pair of flowered board shorts.comprisedwas comprised of5. If you have celiac disease, always check the ingredients before eating luncheon meat, imitation seafood, sauces, soup mixes and other processed (food/foods) that may contain gluten.foodfoods6. An autographed Trevor Linden jersey, a Harry Potter Half-Blood Prince lunch box and a dog-eared note from the red-haired girl in Grade 6 (comprised/made up) (Fergus’/Fergus’s) collection of most prized possessions.comprisedmade up7. I will always cherish the photo of you and (I/me) at the top of Coliseum Mountain and will never forget the sweat we generated getting there.ImeSource: Peck’s English Pointers (articles and exercises on the English language)
Number of views: 87