How to not write bad - Ben Yagoda 2013
Lengthy is desirable short is good (I)
How to not write bad
The English language is unusual and I believe unique in having thousands of pairs of synonyms in which one of the words is plain and the other fancy. Usually, the longer word is Latinate in origin and the shorter one Anglo-Saxon. No matter what kind of writing you’re doing, it’s usually the case that the simpler word is better. The chart below lists some common pairs.
You get the idea, right? Now, sometimes you will want the fancy word, for variety, ironic effect, sound, or some other reason. And hundreds and hundreds of splendid multisyllabic and/or fancy words, especially the much-maligned adjective, have no simple equivalent. What better way to describe an out-of-the-way word than arcane, a bitter person than dyspeptic, or the act of deliberately giving up something as eschewing? If you “own” such a word, in the sense of being confident of its meaning and nuance, go for it! (Needless to say, the best way to gain ownership of a lot of great words is to read a lot.) Otherwise, nine times out of ten, simpler is better.
E. B. White has a wonderful paragraph about his former Cornell teacher William Strunk, author of the original Elements of Style, which White edited and updated in the 1950s and which has been in print ever since. The subject is concise sentences (addressed in III.C.4.), rather than short words, but it is worth a listen no matter what:
“Omit needless words!” cries the author on page 39, and into that imperative Will Strunk really put his heart and soul. In the days when I was sitting in his class, he omitted so many needless words, and omitted them so forcibly and with so much eagerness and obvious relish, that he often seemed in the position of having shortchanged himself—a man left with nothing more to say yet with time to fill, a radio prophet who had outdistanced the clock. Will Strunk got out of this predicament by a simple trick: he uttered every sentence three times. When he delivered his oration on brevity to the class, he leaned forward over his desk, grasped his coat lapels in his hands and, in a husky, conspiratorial voice, said “Rule Seventeen. Omit needless words! Omit needless words! Omit needless words!”
As I say, the passage is about short sentences, but it uses short words. To be specific, here’s the percentage of time White (generally considered to be one of the finest American stylists of the twentieth century) uses words of various lengths:
One-syllable: 67 percent
Two-syllable: 21 percent
Three-syllable: 10 percent
Four-syllable: 2 percent
Five-syllable: 0
Six-syllable: 1 percent
Seven-syllable or above: 0
And here, for the fun of it, is a pie chart showing the proportion of words, by length, in the passage:
White’s proportions seem about right as a model for us all, with the understanding that there will be a little give and take in view of your own personal style and the kind of writing you’re doing. Note, by the way, the three long words he used in this 128-word passage: imperative, predicament, and conspiratorial. They are eminently fine words, not replaceable by anything shorter, and a model for when it’s okay to go long.