Quick and dirty tips for better writing - Mignon Fogarty 2008

Chapter 8. I’m so stylish: style and writing

All writers have their own style, and I don’t believe style is something you can teach. Everyone’s writing voice is as different as their speaking voice. (Yes, everyone is a singular noun, and I am still insisting on using their as a gender-neutral singular pronoun. Aren’t you used to it by now?) I may be able to impersonate Steve Martin or Toni Morrison, but it would take hard work and concentration, whereas speaking or writing in my own voice comes naturally. It still requires hard work—some days writing is downright painful—but it does come naturally once it starts flowing.

So why did I even include a chapter on style if I don’t think it can be taught? Well, the last seven chapters were about avoiding big mistakes. This chapter is about avoiding big annoyances. It’s a step on the way to style, which in the end, you must find for yourself, grasshopper.

WORDINESS

Wordiness bugs people. If you don’t believe me, I can show you the e-mail messages I get from listeners. The complaints I get about wordiness are often laced with serious venom. It’s as if the complainer has been locked in a box and forced to listen to the same wordy phrase over and over again. Oh wait, isn’t that the definition of office life?

For example, I found myself wondering if a listener named Tod, who complained about the wordy phrase go ahead and, works with someone like the annoying manager Bill Lumbergh in the movie Office Space who says things such as

If you want to, go ahead and wear a Hawaiian shirt and jeans.

Are you going to go ahead and have those TPS reports for us this afternoon?

Tod is right—Lumberghian phrases such as go ahead and are wordy and unnecessary. Many wordiness slips are easy to make in writing because we use them in speech to soften bad news or get people’s attention. Here’s one I’m guilty of: I’m always tempted to start e-mails with the phrase I just want to let you know, and then I get to my point. I always have to go back and rewrite my messages so I don’t belittle my own sentiment and waste the reader’s time. For example, I’ll write, “I just wanted to let you know that I love your podcast.” Ugh! Just say it: Dear Money Girl, I love your podcast. There’s no need to sneak up on the sentence as if you’re trying to lasso a wild horse!

On the other hand, sometimes wordiness can make bad news seem less harsh. I thought you should know that Tom died last night sounds less cold than Tom died last night.

Repetitive Redundancy

Redundancy is another common pet peeve, a subspecies of wordiness. If you don’t think redundancy annoys people, consider my listener who angrily focused on the redundancy of this sign rather than the message: Season’s Greetings and Happy Holidays. Don’t tell him you love and adore him if you know what’s good for you!

The reason . . . is because is another redundant phrase that sends people off the deep end because to say “the reason” implies “because.” I know; I said it in my show once! Consider this sentence, and the two simplified versions that follow:

The reason you love grammar is because you love rules. (redundant)

The reason you love grammar is that you love rules. (acceptable)

You love grammar because you love rules. (better)

You can be particularly tempted to write redundant acronyms and initialisms because you forget what the letters represent. For example, I was writing about a science experiment, and I found myself writing the phrase PCR reaction; and then I remembered that PCR stands for polymerase chain reaction, so I had just written polymerase chain reaction reaction, which is obviously redundant. Yet, I often hear people speak redundantly; they say such things as “I ran a PCR reaction.” There’s something about ending a sentence with an acronym that often sounds wrong, but adding redundant words doesn’t make it any better.

Other examples of abbreviations that lure people into redundancy are PIN (PIN number is redundant because the n in PIN stands for number, so people are saying personal identification number number) and HIV (HIV virus is redundant because v stands for virus).

The important thing to remember is when you are using an acronym, take a second to think about the words it stands for so you don’t add a redundant word at the end. If you are afraid people won’t know what you mean if you use the acronym without the redundant word, then don’t use the acronym—write out the whole thing.

AVOID CLICHÉS LIKE THE PLAGUE

Phrases are like furniture. For a short time they are comfortable or even brilliant, but it doesn’t take long for them to become shabby. Clichés are OK once in a blue moon, but the very definition of cliché argues against their use: “a trite, overused expression.”

Overreliance on clichés can be a sign of weak writing because it usually means you couldn’t think of a creative way to get your point across and instead you lazily borrowed a phrase someone else created years ago. Is avoiding someone like the plague really relevant today, or would it touch your readers’ lives more if you said, “He’s as welcome as a Nigerian spammer”? The next time you are tempted to write a cliché, think about how much you believe the checker at the grocery store wants you to “Have a nice day,” and try again.

THAT PROBLEM

People also get all riled up about the word that. It’s redundant! Unnecessary! “Strike it wherever you can!” shout many editors. They’ve been driven to this madness by writers who use that with wild abandon.

Aardvark told her that she was the one that he wanted to go with.

(two unnecessary thats)

Aardvark told her she was the one he wanted to go with.

(better without the thats)

Unfortunately, many editors take their that phobia to extremes and delete thats even when the word is needed for clarity, as in the following example:

Aardvark maintains her yard is too large.

(almost certain to miscue the reader into initially thinking Aardvark mows her lawn)

Aardvark maintains that her yard is too large.

(clearer with the that included)

ACTIVE VOICE VERSUS PASSIVE VOICE

Passive voice is one of those things many people believe they should avoid, but fewer people can define.

I’ll start with active voice because it’s simpler. In an active sentence, the subject is doing the action. A straightforward example is the following sentence:

Squiggly loves Aardvark.

Squiggly is the subject, and he is doing the action: he loves Aardvark, the object. (See this section in chapter 1, “Dirty Words,” for an overview of subject versus object.)

In passive voice, the target of the action gets promoted to the subject position. Instead of saying, “Squiggly loves Aardvark,” I would say,

Aardvark is loved by Squiggly.

The subject of the sentence becomes Aardvark, but he isn’t doing anything. Rather, he is just the recipient of Squiggly’s love. The focus of the sentence has changed from Squiggly to Aardvark.

A lot of people think all sentences that contain a form of the verb to be are in passive voice, but that isn’t true. For example, the sentence “I am holding a pen” is in active voice, but it uses the verb am, which is a form of to be. The passive form of that sentence is The pen is being held by me.

Another important point is that passive sentences aren’t incorrect; often they just aren’t the best way to phrase your thoughts. Sometimes passive voice is awkward and other times it’s vague.

When you put sentences in passive voice, it’s easy to leave out the person who is responsible for the action. For example, Aardvark is loved is passive. The problem with that sentence is you don’t know who loves Aardvark. In fact, politicians often use passive voice to intentionally obscure the idea of who is taking the action. Ronald Reagan famously said, “Mistakes were made,” when referring to the Iran-Contra scandal. Other examples of passive voice for political reasons could include Bombs were dropped and Shots were fired. Watch the news. Now that you’re aware of the difference between active and passive voice, you’ll hear politicians use passive voice almost every day.

So, the reasons to avoid passive voice are that the form can lead to awkward sentences and obscured meaning. Also, passive voice is wordy. You can tighten up your writing if you use active voice more often than passive voice.

On the other hand, there are instances where passive voice is the best choice. If you don’t know who is taking the action, then you can’t name that person. Depending on the context, it may make more sense to write “The cookies were stolen” instead of “Somebody stole the cookies.” It’s a subtle difference. If you want to put the focus on the cookies—for example, if you are writing a mystery novel and you want to highlight the cookies because they are central to the story—use passive voice and write, “The cookies were stolen.” Alternatively, if you want to put the focus on the unknown thief, use active voice and write, “Somebody stole the cookies.”

So remember, in a passive-voice sentence the subject of the sentence is the receiver of the action. Passive voice is not grammatically incorrect, and it is often a good choice when the actor isn’t known or doesn’t matter, or if you want to create some mystery around your sentence. On the other hand, it’s often not the best choice. If you know who did what, it’s often better to use an active voice.

OVERUSE OF SO AND VERY

A listener named Taryn asked if it is acceptable to write that she is “sooooooo” happy that she is going to the prom, which got me thinking about not only the word so but also the word very.

Both words are often used as intensifiers, meaning they allow you to express that you are happier than just happy.

In the formal writing world, both words are looked down on, but so (by itself) is considered worse than very.

Misusing So

When you’re speaking, emphasizing the word so seems to add punch to a simple statement—I’m sooooo happy—which is why Taryn is tempted to write the word with so many o’s: she’s used to saying that she’s “soooooo” happy, which is fine in informal conversation. But it should be avoided in writing.

On the other hand, when so is paired with that, it becomes more acceptable in writing.

Squiggly was so happy. (wrong)

Squiggly was so happy that he jumped for joy. (right)

When you say Squiggly was so happy that he jumped for joy, so becomes an adverb related to the degree of happiness instead of a vague intensifier. In other words, so leads into a thought about how happy Squiggly was. How happy was he? So happy that he jumped for joy.

Overusing Very

Unlike with the word so, it’s not considered a mistake to use the word very by itself for emphasis. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t overdo it. Instead of saying, “I was very hungry,” it’s typically better to search for a more creative adjective and write something like “I was famished” or “I was ravenous.” Replacing two simple words like very hungry with one more descriptive word like ravenous makes your writing tighter and usually more interesting too.

Very as an intensifier also comes up when you’re thinking of modifying absolutes. Most grammar experts believe that very is out of place and not the best choice in phrases like very unique and very dead where it modifies something that doesn’t have degrees.

Still, very shouldn’t be banished from the language. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary of English Usage notes that E. B. White used the repetition of very to excellent effect in a letter, writing, “It was a day of very white clouds, very blue skies, and very dark green spruces.” White is the coauthor of the famous style guide known as Strunk and White and formally titled The Elements of Style, and I agree that the repeated verys create a strong rhythm. The effect would be lost if White had written, “It was a day of snowy clouds, oceanic skies, and evergreen spruces.”

In addition, The Chicago Manual of Style has numerous headings that include the word very: “Very Long Titles,” “Very Wide Tables,” “Very Large Numbers,” and so on. It would seem silly if Chicago’s titles were something more creative like “Lengthy Titles,” “Expansive Tables,” and “Humongous Numbers.” Very long, very wide, and very large get the point across more clearly (although Chicago could probably also get away with just long, wide, and large).

Finally, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but just to be safe, very is spelled v-e-r-y. Vary with an a (v-a-r-y) is a verb that means “to differ or change.”

NIXING THE HORRID OF: PREPOSITIONS

Almost everyone has personal bad writing habits. One of mine is that I overuse the word of. I often go back through my documents looking for ofs to delete. I’m not the only one; overusing of is a common writing problem.

Of is a preposition, and although not an inherently evil word, overusing it can make your writing sound passive and fussy. Here’s an example of a bad sentence.

She is the wife of Sir Fragalot. (ick)

That’s just horrible. It makes me cringe just to see it. The only time you should write something like that is to avoid a double possessive.

She is Sir Fragalot’s wife.

(better)

She is the wife of Sir Fragalot’s neighbor.

(acceptable to avoid a double possessive)

I’m hopeful that none of you would actually write, “She is the wife of Sir Fragalot,” or any other such strained sentence. But that of can slip into your writing without being noticed if you aren’t careful. Here’s a more reasonable example: reporting on some bizarre science experiment, you might write the following: The length of the string indicates how far the snail has moved.

There’s nothing really wrong with that sentence, except that it may leave you wondering how to attach a string to a snail. But you would probably explain that later in the paragraph.

Nevertheless, the sentence could be tightened up by rewriting it as the following: The string length indicates how far the snail has moved. See? The length of the string compared to The string length? It sounds more direct.

On the other hand, there are good ways to use the word of. For example, Please bring me a bucket of water. You have to write it that way to show that you want a bucket that actually has water in it. If you rewrote without the of—Please bring me a water bucket—you could be misinterpreted as asking for a bucket that is meant to hold water, but is currently empty.

Couple is also usually followed by of, as in A couple of chickens crossed the road.

Nevertheless, it’s never a bad idea to search out your ofs and make sure they are necessary.

AWKWARDNESS

Sometimes things aren’t technically wrong or wordy; they’re just painfully awkward.

When The The Isn’t a Band

Imagine you’re writing a lovely sentence, and then you run smack into a double the. Oh, the horror! You want to write “Have you heard the The Fast and the Furious sound track?” but you really don’t want to write the second the. It’s technically correct to write the twice, but whether it’s right or wrong, if you turn that in to an English teacher, it will be circled with a red pen and marked “awk” for awkward. Rewrite the sentence to avoid the problem.

Sounds like?

A listener named Melanie sent me a story about mercury poisoning that talked about “fish-eating humans,” and Melanie and I agreed that although the phrase is grammatically correct, we both initially thought the fish were eating people. Constructions such as flesh-eating monster or man-eating lion are so common that we are trained to initially think that a something-eating anything is attacking a person. Unless your intent is to be painfully clever, don’t twist conventional phrases to mean the opposite of their standard use.

Foreign Words and Phrases

I generally don’t like it when people use archaic or rare foreign words when an English word would do just as well. It’s like standing on a chair and jeering “I know something you don’t know!” It’s a quick way to alienate the majority of your readers. On the other hand, I can see an argument for foreign phrases when they sum up something that is difficult to say in English. An example that comes to mind is the German word schadenfreude (which means to take joy in the misfortune of others). Still, spell out the meaning or resist the temptation to use foreign words if most of your readers will miss the point.

BLECHYUCKINESS: BUSINESS SPEAK

With regard to the meeting, are you tempted to utilize slides to facilitate understanding until everything is copasetic? Don’t do it! Or people may be tempted to thump some sense into you with nearby whiteboard eraser.

It’s called many things—business speak, officialese, bureaucratese—but I like listener Carol’s name best: blechyuckiness. A major hallmark of blechyuckiness is substituting longer words for shorter, clearer words. What follows are examples, not a complete list.

Communicate Versus Tell

When you’re tempted to use communicate, ask yourself if you really mean tell. Communicate has it’s place:

The couple had trouble communicating with each other.

Having solar-powered transmitters improved the firemen’s ability to communicate during emergencies.

But there is no need to use communicate when you mean tell.

Please communicate to your team that we have a meeting on Friday. (ick)

Please tell your team we have a meeting on Friday. (better)

Use Versus Utilize

In most cases, utilize and use mean the same thing. Utilize has three syllables, use has one. When in doubt, use use.

Use and utilize are also potential signs of sloppy writing. When you see them, consider whether the sentence would be better without them.

Aardvark utilized the hammer to drive nails. (ick)

Aardvark used the hammer to drive nails. (acceptable)

Aardvark drove nails with the hammer. (better)

Facilitate Versus Help, Plan, Hold, Etc.

When you’re tempted to write facilitate, ask yourself if you mean help, plan, hold, etc. Like communicate, facilitate has its place. It means “to make something easier”:

Having the past presentations available will facilitate a more informed discussion.

Still, you could substitute “lead to” for “facilitate” in that sentence and it would sound less pretentious.

In the following sentences, facilitate is not the best choice.

Facilitate Plan a meeting with your team.

Squiggly facilitated led the meeting.