HOW TO WRITE CLEARLY

AUTHOR:  HUGO BRADY       DATE: NOVEMBER 29, 2013

Every language reflects the character of the people who speak it. Those from the Francophonie revel in elegant vagueness; Germans are determined that the sentence will be comprehensive, no matter how long or awkward.

For their part, those who write English well admire and prioritise two things. The first is economy of expression. That is not the same thing as just writing short sentences. Like this. Rather, it is the ability to communicate the most in the simplest way. The second is courtesy: it is the job of the writer to do the difficult work of creating excellent analysis. The reader should not have to struggle to understand or re-read sentences. All should be self-evident.

Journalists get taught the ‘show me, don’t tell me’ rule: quotations, examples and similes – in that order – work better than dry description and explanation. And always, always, sleep on an apparently completely finalised draft, if that is an option for you. You will invariably improve a piece the next morning when you are able to revise it with a fresh pair of eyes. 

This may all sound too abstract and disjointed. But more practical advice follows in the sections below on the actual principles and laws of writing.

Principles of clear writing 

1. First up, accept that useful writing is hard to do. 

If you are not finding it hard: you might be typing, but you are not writing. And it is unlikely that anyone will read what you type with much interest. Good writing is never done in a hurry and the best writing is usually only achieved after multiple drafts and some heartbreak.

2. The secret to good writing is to write short, active, declarative sentences in clear, active language.

Anything worth saying is communicated in this way. Vague, wordy, over complex sentences will turn people off and lose their attention. Try to never write a sentence with more than four clauses or sub-sections and, even then, use lots of punctuation.

3. Bad writing equals bad thinking and vice versa. 

If you start to write without at least a rough sense of what it is that you want to say, get ready for a lot of heartbreak.

4. Never expect to produce a first draft that is ready for publication or an editor. 

That never happens. It takes time and a lot of writing, re-writing and deleting to achieve conciseness and clarity of expression. Mark Twain once received the following telegram from his editor: “Need two page story, two days.” Twain replied: “No can do two pages, two days. Can do 30 pages, two days. Need 30 days do two pages.”

5. Resist the urge to explain too much under the false pretence of ‘comprehensiveness’. 

Pick the most important argument that needs to be made and make it. Keep it simple, understated and to the point. Write to a set word count, and never, ever, give someone more words than they have asked for.

6. Be direct.

You need to get into your arguments straight away: your introduction should usually be a miniature of the overall structure of the piece. A wordy opening that tries to explain things using a lot of history or background information is called ‘throat-clearing’ by professional writers.

7. An agreed structure can literally save months of time and acrimony. 

Your argument can, and almost always will, change as you write. But the initial structure will help you settle down, focus and begin.

8. You think you are finally finished. 

You are worn out and exasperated. You cannot go on. This probably means you have just completed your first draft. Now you know what you do not know. You need to give yourself three times the amount of time you realistically think it will take to write something. And still more time will be needed to circulate and receive comments on drafts and to take account of these in new drafts.

9. Take your ego out of the process. 

To write well is an emotional process and you can get very attached to your drafts. But pride of authorship only ever hurts; it never really helps, to paraphrase Marsellus Wallace in Pulp Fiction. There are often little expressions and sentences in a piece that you feel very attached to, that you are very proud of, that are really you. Sadly, these usually have to be cut. You must have the presence of mind to kill off these ‘darlings’ yourself – or someone else will to your great despair.

10. Everyone, without exception, needs a critical editor and several fresh pairs of eyes to proofread anything remotely serious. 

If your editor has not seriously challenged some of your assertions or use of language, then they are doing you a professional disservice.