WRITING: MY APPROACH

Can we avoid all these launderings and failings? Unlikely—not all of them. But when writers clearly state their abilities and interests—and when clients clearly define their objectives—both move more smoothly toward a productive (even enjoyable) collaboration.

So, with this vision in place, let me describe my approach to writing—and my stance toward the English language.

Over the course of my writing and editing career, I’ve not strayed far from the core principles annunciated by William Strunk, Jr. and E. B. White in their classic “little book,” Elements of Style (introduced to the public in 1959, but developed in 1919 by Will Strunk).

E. B. White described Strunk's effort this way: [He tried to] "cut the vast tangle of English rhetoric down to size and write its rules and principles on the head of a pin." Strunk's original version (designed for students at Columbia University) included a brief set of rules, which White edited and assembled into this list:

• Place yourself in the background.
• Write in a way that comes naturally.
• Work from a suitable design.
• Write with nouns and verbs.
• Revise and rewrite.
• Do not overwrite.
• Do not overstate.
• Avoid the use of qualifiers.
• Do not affect a breezy manner.
• Use orthodox spelling.
• Do not explain too much.
• Do not construct awkward adverbs.
• Make sure the reader knows who is speaking.
• Avoid fancy words.
• Do not use dialect unless your ear is good.
• Be clear.
• Do not inject opinion.
• Use figures of speech sparingly.
• Do not take shortcuts at the cost of clarity.
• Avoid foreign languages.
• Prefer the standard to the offbeat.

Quite a list—quite a summary. It all boils down to a couple of central points. Expository writing strives to communicate ideas. Effective writers find ways to express those ideas in clear, concise language.

George Orwell, in his great essay “Politics and the English Language,” made this case for clear, effective writing—an approach his disciples called Plainspeak:

A man may take to drink because he feels himself to be a failure, and then fail all the more completely because he drinks. It is rather the same thing that is happening to the English language. It becomes ugly and inaccurate because our thoughts are foolish, but the slovenliness of our language makes it easier for us to have foolish thoughts. The point is that the process is reversible.

Modern English, especially written English, is full of bad habits, which spread by imitation and which can be avoided if one is willing to take the necessary trouble. If one gets rid of these habits one can think more clearly, and to think clearly is a necessary first step toward political regeneration: so that the fight against bad English is not frivolous and is not the exclusive concern of professional writers.

If you simplify your English, you are freed from the worst follies of orthodoxy. You cannot speak any of the necessary dialects, and when you make a stupid remark, its stupidity will be obvious, even to yourself. One cannot change this all in a moment, but one can at least change one's own habits, and from time to time one can even, if one jeers loudly enough, send some worn-out and useless phrase. . .into the dustbin, where it belongs.

Orwell went on to offer a parody—a "translation" of a well-known verse from Ecclesiastes into a piece of "modern" English.

Here's the biblical verse:

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, or the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favour to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all.

Here it is in "modern" bureaucratise:

Objective considerations of contemporary phenomena compel the conclusion that success or failure in competitive activities exhibits a tendency to be commensurate with innate capacity, but that a considerable element of the unpredictable must invariably be taken into account.

Well, you get the idea. Orwell argued strenuously for Plainspeak, language that is simple and precise—a paragon of clarity and good taste. Is such an unadorned approach too “antiseptic,” as some have claimed—too bland, too washed out, too prim and tidy, too lacking in hustle and bustle?

I think not. Good writing begins with good economical active voice sentences—carefully crafted sentences that carry vivid, figurative language and that support a compelling argument. These well-linked sentences, properly arranged, lead to a graceful style and (when required) a lively voice.

In my writing, I’ve tried to follow the Plainspeak example, and I continue to be surprised by the possibilities surrounding the simple English sentence—recognizing at all times that writing is ultimately “an act of faith, not a trick of grammar” (Mark Twain) and that style “not only reveals the spirit of the man but reveals his identity, as surely as would his fingerprints" (E. B. White).

If you're evaluating your publications (or any piece of writing), ask yourself these questions:

Content

• Information. Does the piece deliver needed and useful information? Are the resources authoritative—and the research methods valid? Are opinions supported by facts?
  
  
• Analysis and interpretation. Does the piece examine the facts—and not just enumerate them? Does it clearly describe difficult concepts—and make them accessible? Does the analysis lead to a clear overview of the subject?
   
• Balance. Are opinions clearly distinguished from facts? Does the discussion present (or at least acknowledge) various sides of an argument? Is the information reliable—and can the reader fairly judge its reliability?
   
• Originality. Is the discussion fresh, innovative, and insightful? Does it acknowledge previously developed concepts? Does it attempt to go beyond them?

Readability

• Appeal. Is the piece inviting and authoritative, from the beginning; and does it sustain interest throughout? Does it intrigue and motivate readers—and encourage them to keep reading? Does it possess a forward momentum and lead the reader toward a clear conclusion?
   
• Concreteness and clarity. Does the writing favor the concrete over the abstract? Is it free of jargon and turgidity? Does the piece clearly assert its point of view—and move surely and clearly to the point? Does it ring with clarity—and invite dialogue?
   
• Color and tone. Is the writing both conversational and intelligent? Does it favor strong verbs and the active voice? Does the discussion flow smoothly—and make good use of examples and anecdotes? Is the expression sincere—rather than slick?

Impact

• Relevance. Does the piece relate directly to the reader's interests? Does it reward, extend, or challenge those interests?
   
• Enlightenment. Does the piece edify without preaching? Does it open up new channels of action and understanding? Does it illuminate, inform, and persuade—and leave the reader with a sense of benefit?
   
• Force. Is the discussion authoritative, persuasive, and logical? Does it avoid heavy-handedness? Does it show an awareness of trends—while avoiding an emphasis on ephemeral fashions and follies? Is the writing and thinking durable—and does it show conviction? 

Answers to these questions can help you evaluate your publications and assess your writing and editing needs. I can provide additional evaluation and guidance. Give me a call (651-278-4824) or drop me a note (otteson@aol.com). We'll review your writing goals—and go from there.

Orlo J. Otteson
651-278-4824
otteson@aol.com