Wednesday, July 30, 2008

I Wish I Could Write Better

I wish I could write better. Don't you?

See what I mean? What am I asking, there? Am I being cute, and asking "don't you wish I could write better?" or am I asking if you, yourself, also wish that you could write better? The two simple sentences are just vague enough together that if we walk away from them and move on, some people can reasonably be expected to explain it either way.

I have been writing a long time. I have never come up with anything anyone would remember, probably. I'm kind of proud of a paper I did in college. I got a kick out of a few commercials I did when I was involved in radio. I am very proud of my father's eulogy. I did well with a few articles and reviews for Computer Shopper and some other magazines. But nothing I have written has ever been immortalized on a T-shirt. Nothing is in danger of appearing in Bartlett's Quotations. Still, I have always been a fan of good writing, wherever I may find it.

Have you ever wondered how some people can tell a story in a dozen words, while others need an afternoon? Have you noticed which story is generally better? Brevity is always a goal, but never, as we see above, at the expense of actually conveying an idea correctly.

Some of the best writing being done today is in advertising. Some of the very best work is in single-panel comics. Think of it—you have only the time it takes to turn a page to convince someone they need an entirely new car. You have only thirty seconds to convince someone they need to change the toothpaste they use. An enormous amount of work is brought to bear on the task, when skillions of dollars are at stake.

There are different types of writing. Writing a book is different from writing for a magazine. Magazine writing is different from writing for radio. And of course, writing for the Web is different from everything else. Please try to keep it short.

Online, we don't have the pressure to complete an idea or an argument by the bottom of a page. We don't know how big our "page" might even be. So there is a tendency to put too much on the page. Most people online don't really read the information they seek, they skim what's available, looking for bold or emphasized text, sidebars and lists:
  • Strong, bold text
  • Emphasized text
  • Lists of key items


Always remember your audience. Are there many readers for whom English is a second language? Maybe you will want to lighten up on both idioms and cultural references. Lighten up? Under the weather? Over the hill? Is it possible two people discussing a Hot Car and a Cool Car are both discussing the same vehicle, and both in the same way? What would Maxwell Smart think of a situation like that (if you don't know who Maxwell Smart is?).

Put your stuff away for a day or so and re-read it before publishing. Seeing a page with new eyes is an easy way to catch mistakes. Sure, you meant to tell them A, B and C. But did you? Did you ever really get around to C at all? Make sure your true meaning is clear. Pass the work around and let others see it—and listen to their comments.

There was a Saturday Night Live skit where Ed Asner, as the manager of a nuclear power plant, had to leave a new crew in charge. He cautioned them on the way out, "Remember, you can't put too much water on the reactor core!"

Sure enough, as soon as he was gone, alarms started blaring and lights started flashing and the new guys had to respond. But were they supposed to put all of the water they had on the reactor core? Because, after all, you can't put too much water on the reactor? Or were they supposed to add it a gallon or two at a time, because you can't put too much water on the reactor? Hilarity ensued.

I wish I could write better. Don't you?

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