One of my favorite books about writing—and I mean the real nitty-gritty of writing—is Kenneth Roman and Joel Raphaelson’s Writing That Works: How to Communicate Effectively in Business.
The thesis put forward by Roman & Raphaelson (“R&R” from here on out) is that most of the writing we encounter in the office workplace is just downright bad.
And they’re right! At least once a day, I receive an email that requires me to respond with some variation of I don’t understand what you mean by this. Can you try again? Not a recipe for an effective workplace, right?
Here are some choice pieces of advice that I copied into my commonplace book:
1. “People seldom act on what they cannot understand.”
R&R make an important point early on about business writing. In a business setting, a writer is usually trying to get the reader to do something. If your reader doesn’t understand what you’re asking, then your chances of getting them them to act are slim to none.
2. “Bad writing slows things down; good writing speeds them up.”
I love how R&R connect good writing to speed. By minimizing the need for editing or clarification, good writing saves people time, time that might—in the hands of a less writer—have been spent parsing a confounding sentence or trying to edit one.
R&R also point out that some people know you exclusively through your writing. (This has been more and more true, given our extended work-from-home experience this past year.)
The only way some people know you is through your writing. It can be your most frequent point of contact, or your only one, with people important to your career—major customers, senior clients, your own top management. To those women and men, your writing is you. It reveals how your mind works. Is it forceful or fatuous, deft or clumsy, crisp or soggy? Readers who don’t know you judge you from the evidence in your writing.
3. “When you say something, make sure you have said it. The chances of your having said it are only fair.”
As someone who is constantly hitting the Backspace and Delete keys while writing, this has occurred to me more than a couple times. On rereading, I realize that I’ve left out, y’know, the main question I wanted to ask in my email.
4. Remind yourself that intelligent readers develop a nose for…deceptive writing and are seldom taken in by it.
This boils down to respecting your reader. You aren’t respecting your reader by stretch the facts or offering half-truths (R&R’s examples). Nor are you respecting them when you drop in euphemisms, shielding yourself with commonplace phrases. So…are you saying what you want to say? If not, refer back to piece of advice #3.
5. “Bad news is not made better by being baffling as well as unwelcome.
When you spit it out in plain English, readers still may not like it. But their displeasure won’t be compounded by the suspicion that you’re trying to slip one past them.”
I’m not yet far enough away from the dreaded college application process to have forgotten the dispiriting feeling of opening up those rejection letters. In particular, I remember the tortuous language of some of these letters, which were
6. “Many people appreciate a touch of formality and nobody resents it.”
A simple enough lesson that I love. Having often debated whether to go with “Hi Jane” or “Dear Ms. Doe,” it’s a great rule of thumb to go with “Ms. Doe.” As R&R observe, people are far more likely to be offended by assumed familiarity than by assumed formality.
7. “Never present facts on their own, like unstrung gems.”
Wonderful advice that is wonderfully put. Facts are nice, but facts with context are better. R&R suggest that facts are mere building materials for your argument, and—outside of my industry—most people aren’t impressed with a construction site. Facts, like building materials, must be organized and designed into compelling arguments.
Taylor Coe 