Coloring Outside the Lines

  By Joshua | January 19, 2016 - 8:31 pm |
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Outside the Lines

Almost everyone knows that it’s best to start any significant writing project with an outline. But what many people don’t know is that it’s even better to start with a nonlinear outline. What is a nonlinear outline? Well, it’s kind of an organized brainstorm, or “mind dump.” Nonlinear outlining is a great way to get all of your thoughts down before you start organizing; it lets you think in a more unrestricted way, which gives you all of the benefits of a brainstorm.

So, how do you do a nonlinear outline? It’s easy. Start with a blank sheet of paper, draw a small circle (or oval, or square if you’d like) in the middle and write your project’s title in that circle.

nonlinear 1Then you start letting your brain go wild. For any main topic, draw a line from your center circle, writing the topic on the line. Then, for any subtopic, you draw a line off of that line. Then the same for each point and sub-point. Soon you’ll have a pinwheel of brainstorming. Either set a time limit, or continue to add to your nonlinear outline until you can’t add anything else. Once you think you are finished, force yourself to add two more branches; these can be lines off of any level of your pinwheel.

Nonlinear 2Ultimately, you’ll end up with something like the second image here. Please don’t edit yourself as you complete your nonlinear outline; the whole idea is to get all the ideas you can possibly think of down. Only after you’ve completed your nonlinear outline do you move on to a traditional, linear outline. Wait until you are moving from your nonlinear outline to a traditional outline to edit yourself. It is during this step that you can move points and sub-points from one topic to another, combine topics, or eliminate some of your nonlinear outline altogether. The nonlinear outline is the time to let your brain run free. Give your ideas structure and make a workable document plan at the traditional outline stage–not before.

I wish I could claim credit for the nonlinear outline, because it is something that has truly enhanced my writing, especially for long or in-depth projects. Alas, it is one of the many things I learned from legal writing guru Bryan Garner; it is taught at his seminars and is included in many of his publications. But do not let the fact that it is taught by a legal writing master fool you into thinking it is only beneficial for legal or other persuasive writing. It is a great tool for any project, and I recommend it to anyone who is preparing for a writing project.

Let your wild side come through into your writing a bit. Color outside the lines.

 

Lost your voice?

  By Joshua | October 9, 2015 - 6:52 pm | ,
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Is this thing on?

Voice can refer to many things in writing. When we talk about voice in terms of writing, we’re often talking about active voice versus passive voice. But that’s not what I want to talk about in this blog entry. Finding your own voice is one of the most important things for effective writing of any kind. As a general rule, no matter who you are or what you’re writing, your audience will respond best when you write in your own voice.

stuart-smalleyThis isn’t meant to be a Stuart Smalley, “I’m good enough; I’m smart enough; and doggone it, people like me” affirmation. What I am saying is that your writing will always be its best when it comes out in your voice. When practicing law, I’ve often had to write things to be signed or argued by other people. This is hard for me. The reason is not that the law or argument changes, but that the voice has to change. If a document is going to be argued or presented by someone else, it has to be written in that person’s voice. If it’s not, the argument will not go smoothly and the person arguing will have a hard time presenting the things as set forth in the document. When I have to write for a voice other than mine, it feels unnatural. I wind up having to say things in a way that is foreign to the way my mind works. I’m never very happy with something that I’ve written for someone else’s voice, because it just doesn’t work for me. And if the person who it was written for doesn’t spend some time editing and adjusting the document to his or her own voice, it won’t feel natural to them either, and no one will be happy with it.

But when you have the freedom to write in your own voice, don’t try to sound like someone else. I think an audience can tell. It’s just like when you walk around trying to talk like someone other than you; you may get away with it for awhile, but before too long, someone will notice that you seem like a fake. Of course there’ll be good reason for that—you’re faking! Be aware, you’re writing voice doesn’t necessarily match your speaking voice all of the time. And you may have the skill to write different types of documents in different voices. Just make sure whichever voice you write in is yours. Readers can tell if you’re authentic; and you’ll never be authentic if you can’t write like you.

Stop pretending. Find your voice. Make your documents yours. Sure, there will be many times where your voice must be modified, or even stunted, for certain projects; but make those the exception.

Find your voice and you’ll find you; and your audience will find you and connect with you.

More than Labor Pains

  By Joshua | September 30, 2015 - 6:16 pm | , , ,
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Contractions

Let’s talk contractions.

First things first: If you’re working for a person or a company who insists that contractions be kept out of formal writing, don’t put them in your formal writing. This will help you avoid some problems. If the boss says no contractions, don’t use them. The funny thing is that when the boss tells you, it will probably come out as: “You can’t use contractions;” or “We don’t use contractions.” And you see the fun little issue there, right?

If you’ve been given the freedom to use contractions, or if you work for yourself and don’t have “the man” sticking false rules to you, there is no good reason not to sprinkle contractions in to even formal writing, where appropriate. Contractions can increase the readability and flow of writing. You probably don’t want to use them in every sentence, but a complete rejection of contractions leaves some sentences feeling cumbersome or unnatural. Usually you can substitute “cannot” for “can’t” without making your sentence too odd; not all contractions work like that, though. “Do not” sounds much more severe than “don’t.” And with some common contractions, the full-form of the phrase is nearly obsolete in spoken language. When was the last time you said, “Let us go to the movies tonight” instead of “Let’s go to the movies”? I’ll bet it’s been some time, unless you were trying to sound highfalutin (there’s a fun word I don’t get to use everyday).

And let me make one thing absolutely clear: if you’re writing dialogue—especially for works of fiction—please, please, PLEASE use contractions! Unless you are writing about some futuristic, purely-dystopian society where comfortably dialogue has been completely abolished, failing to use contractions will make your characters and conversations feel wooden and unnatural. We all use contractions when we speak; there’s nothing wrong with using them; and if you want your characters to read as real people, they should use contractions in conversation. Sorry about that, I’ve read a couple books where the characters spoke without contractions. You may have noticed that it bothered me a little bit.

And now for a disclaimer: I have neither performed nor read any studies on this next point, but will believe it true until proven otherwise. One of the biggest keys to persuasive writing is to get your readers to believe that your conclusion (the one you want them to reach) was their idea all along. And trust me, when they think, they probably use contractions. If you can lead your reader through to your conclusion in a way that is so natural she believes it was her own idea, you’re more likely to convince her you’re right. In doing this, it can’t hurt to write like your reader thinks; contractions and all.

That’s my two cents. And doesn’t that just read much more naturally than “That is my two cents”?

I thought so.

Tradition!

  By Joshua | September 17, 2015 - 6:08 pm | , , ,
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Chains

This truth may be hard for some to hear: much business and legal writing is based more on tradition than on clarity or transmitting meaning. There, I said it. Too much of our writing is mired down in the muck of tradition to the point where we write things from forms and do it simply because, “We always do it that way.”

I’m going to let you in on a little secret here:

“Because that’s how we’ve always done it,” is a horrible reason for doing anything in a certain way. “That’s how we’ve always done it,” doesn’t mean it’s the best way to do it, or even that it’s a good way to do it. It only means that someone did it that way first. Do we still fly on planes like the Wright Brothers built? I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been on any planes like that in at least a couple of years. You know, at one point, everyone could have used the reason, “Because that’s how it’s always been done,” to justify refusing to make any improvements on almost anything ever invented.

Do you want to be the type of person, the type of writer, who does something because that’s the way it’s always been done? Or do you want to be the person who looks at how it’s been done and sees all the ways that it could be made better? I’ll let you in on another secret (wow, I’m really dishing those out today!): you want to be the person who makes it better.

If you are using a template or form to write any sort of document—whether a contract,case brief, or anything else—the first thing you should do is make one major change to the form. Starting out with that one major change will give you the freedom to modify the form where necessary. If you’ve already strayed from it, why not stray from it some more?

There is certainly a place for forms and templates. They can be very helpful and get us by many of the initial obstacles to many writing projects. But they can also be dangerous. They can hold back progress. When using a form or template, you’ve got to realize that, just because it’s been that way, doesn’t mean that’s the way it should be.

On the other hand, be sure not to “throw the baby out with the bathwater.” A form becomes a form because there is at least something in it that works. Try to keep the parts that work and drop the parts that don’t. Perhaps the problem with the form is not its substance, but the words used. Maybe you just need to modernize it a bit; give it a “plain language” checkup. For example, if you’re working from a form contract, be sure you get rid of the “party in the first part” language—that stuff is ridiculous, and there’s no reason for it.

Make your own traditions, don’t settle for others’. And don’t set your traditions in stone, it may be time to change them sooner than you think. Always be ready to make the product better.

Size Matters

  By Joshua | September 10, 2015 - 2:04 pm | , ,
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Now that I’ve got your attention, let’s talk about sentence length. First off: it matters and you should pay attention to it. Shorter sentences tend to be clearer, and we should always strive for clarity. But clarity does not always require the shortest-possible sentence; most thoughts can be properly conveyed in a number of longer or shorter ways. Let’s call this the “length-clarity spectrum.” So long as your sentence falls in the not-too-ambiguous portion of the spectrum, you can choose the appropriate sentence to express your thoughts.

Sentence length, along with word choice and sentence structure, is a key element in pacing your writing. You can take the same set of facts and completely change a reader’s’ perception of those facts through sentence length. As an example, the next two paragraphs demonstrate how much size matters when it comes to sentences. To emphasize the importance of sentence length, both examples are written in active voice with near-identical, mostly-neutral language.

#1As Tommy neared the stop sign, he hit his brakes and looked both ways to see if there was any traffic at the intersection. Because it was dark, Tommy could not see Billy’s sport utility vehicle, which was also approaching the intersection. As Tommy pulled into the intersection, he heard the sound of a car horn and looked up to see Billy’s sport utility vehicle, with a panicked Billy behind the wheel, also entering the intersection. Both of the drivers, who were trying to avoid a collision, applied their brakes…

 

#2Tommy neared the stop sign. He hit his brakes, looking both ways. It was dark. Tommy did not see Billy’s SUV approaching. Tommy pulled into the intersection. He heard a car horn. Looking up, Tommy saw Billy’s SUV entering the intersection. Billy was panicking. Tommy applied his brakes. Billy applied his brakes. Both tried to avoid the collision…

 

 

Both examples describe the same incident. The only real difference is that Example #1 contains four sentences and ninety words, for an average of just over 22 words/sentence. Example #2, on the other hand, has eleven sentences and fifty-eight words, for an average of just over 5 words/sentence. Both fall into an acceptable range on the length-clarity spectrum. But as you can see, even though they both give the same facts, they tell a different story.

Example #1 unfolds more slowly, and the pacing does not foreshadow any impending action. Example #2 moves quicker, jerkier, leading us quickly from one fact to the next without allowing us to meander around at any point of the narrative. Even with both paragraphs written in active voice with nearly-identical word choice, sentence length changes the narrative. More could be done to differentiate the pacing, and hence a reader’s perception of the facts, through word choice and sentence structure, but we are only exploring sentence length here.

Is there an optimal sentence length? It depends on what you are trying to do. Are you trying to speed up the story, get to the action? Opt for shorter sentences. Are you trying to draw it out, slow down the story and give your reader the perception that things aren’t happening quite so fast? Go with longer sentences.

I’m interested in your thoughts on this topic. Does size matter when it comes to sentence length? Let me know in the comments.

Clean up your language!

  By Joshua | September 1, 2015 - 7:44 pm | ,
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Last post I went on a bit of a rant regarding the death of “literally.” This post is about another word. This time, the word is “clear,” or in its other commonly-used form, “clearly.” Unlike “literally,” whose unseemly demise was brought about by our fascination with hyperbole, “clearly” has just been overused to the point that it needs to be buried. The problem with overusing “clearly” is most prevalent in legal writing; and it is from legal writing that it needs to be most swiftly excised.

VB9G0K8UTBLegal-writing-guru Bryan Garner includes “clearly” in a list of “weasel words.” Defining “weasel words,” he quotes Theodore Roosevelt: “One of our defects as a nation is a tendency to use what have been called weasel words. When a weasel sucks eggs it sucks the meat out of the egg and leaves it an empty shell. If you use a weasel word after another there is nothing left of the other.” Bryan Garner, Garner’s Modern American Usage 853 (3rd ed. Oxford Univ. Press 2009). Garner continues, “[s]ensitive writers are aware of how supposed intensives (e.g. very) actually have the effect of weakening a statement. Many other words merely have the effect of rendering uncertain or hollow the statements in which they appear.” Id.

In legal writing, and persuasive writing in general, “clearly” has come to mean, “I want you to see it this way.” And usually it means that what you are saying isn’t clear at all, but it is your argument. If an argument’s conclusion is, in fact, clear, you won’t need to tell your reader that it is. Judges, and readers in general, do not want you to tell them how clear your argument is. At best, it’s hubris; at worst, it’s insulting. The last thing you want to do is tell any reader, especially a judge, something like, “If you were as smart as I am, you would see how inescapable this argument is. If you don’t think it is clear, you’re obviously missing something.”

When it comes to legal argument, my philosophy has always been to write like you’re just telling the reader how it is, not like you are trying to convince them how it should be. It’s more convincing (and less insulting) to say, “The grass is green and the sky is blue,” than to say, “The grass is clearly green and the sky obviously blue.” It becomes exponentially worse when you are arguing a controversial point, where the judge may not want to agree that the law says what it says. The more you tell the judge how clear it all is, the more likely the judge will see it as anything but.

By all means, make your point, support your point, and summarize your point. But don’t tell me your point is clearly the only conclusion. If you have prepared a well-written, well-reasoned argument, everything in it should draw me to the conclusion that you want. You won’t need to tell me your point is clear. If you have to tell me how clear the conclusion is, you’re telling me that you’re point isn’t strong enough to stand on it’s own and needs you to stand behind it, constantly asking me why I can’t just see it the way you do.

And that, my friends, is clearly a bad idea.

The day a word literally died.

  By Joshua | August 27, 2015 - 3:34 pm | , ,
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NLB5JY3IRRRest in peace, literally. It’s not the first time, but it is one of the most recent. The misuse of the word “literally” as a substitute for “figuratively” has become an accepted definition. Many major dictionaries, including perhaps the most-used modern dictionary, dictionary.com, now include some version of “figuratively” as an accepted use of the word “literally.”

I don’t consider myself a pedant (well, about most things), and I’m all for creating and creatively using words, but I think this one went too far. Not only are the definitions of “literally” inconsistent, the new definition is the exact opposite of the other accepted definitions. Dictionary.com gives us four definitions for “literally:”

1.  in the literal or strict sense: She failed to grasp the metaphor and interpreted the poem literally.
     What does the word mean literally?

2.  in a literal manner; word for word:
     to translate literally.

3.  actually; without exaggeration or inaccuracy:
     The city was literally destroyed.

4.  in effect; in substance; very nearly; virtually:
     I literally died when she walked out on stage in that costume.

(Definition from dictionary.com.)

In the immortal words of Sesame Street: “One of these things is not like the others; one of these things just doesn’t belong.”

My problem here is not that words cannot be used to express new concepts or meanings. And we’re not playing Scrabble with our everyday language; to a large extent, as my 13-year-old son says, “If you understood what I meant, then it was a real enough word.” (Note: this is not a good practice to use in any official, academic, or business writing, but works in normal, everyday conversation. Also, try to do it without the eye roll that has been perfected by 13-year-olds throughout the ages.)

No, the problem is that instead of helping someone understand a concept, this use of the word “literally” makes the concept less precise, it leads to unnecessary ambiguity. Sure, contextual clues will usually let us know which whether the speaker or writer using “literally” really means “literally” or “figuratively,” but with all of the other good words out there, why misuse a perfectly good word like “literally” as its exact opposite? Yes, I’m pretty sure the speaker did not “literally die” when so-and-so walked out on stage in that costume, but couldn’t the speaker have expressed the same feelings with “I almost died” or some similar phrase?

Don’t worry, my rant is almost over.

Writers should strive for clarity; there’s seldom a good reason for purposeful ambiguity. Unless you’re writing dialogue for a specific character, you should avoid using “literally” to mean “figuratively.” Feel free to use “virtually” or “almost” or just about anything other than “literally” unless you mean it, well, literally.

And for those who truly care about words and want to avoid their needless slaughter, please stop using “literally” as “figuratively” in conversation. Please, it literally makes my head hurt.

You were a good word, literally. I’m sorry this had to happen to you. You will be missed.

Serial: Killers bad, commas good.

  By Joshua | August 21, 2015 - 8:19 pm | , ,
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Everyone who likes to read about writing has read something about the serial, or Oxford, comma. The band Vampire Weekend even has a song about it, but I disagree with their take: “Who gives a **** about an Oxford comma…” I, for one, have strong feelings about the serial comma. And I think you should. For anyone who doesn’t know, the serial comma refers to the last comma before a conjunction when you’re dealing with a list. A classic example:

I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa, and the Pope.

The serial comma refers to the comma right after “Teresa” in the example. This is a classic example for a simple reason; in it, removing the serial comma changes the meaning of the sentence.

With the serial comma there is only one way to read the sentence. I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa, and the Pope:

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Without the serial comma it is ambiguous. I’d like you to meet my parents, Mother Teresa and the Pope, could mean:

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You see the difference.

The Associated Press’s style guide advises against the serial comma, but we have to take that opinion with a grain of salt, because the AP is just as (or more) interested in saving space where it can than it is about specificity. Virtually all other writing authorities recommend using the serial comma, to avoid the ambiguities shown above. Although context can sometimes make it obvious what the writer means—most readers probably will not assume that Mother Teresa and the Pope are your parents—why take the chance? If you are dead-set on avoiding the serial comma, changing the order on your list can make all the difference. There is little confusion to be had if the sentence reads: I’d like you to meet Mother Teresa, the Pope and my parents. But the problem is completely avoided by adding one little punctuation mark.

My vote, as you can see by my title, has been cast. When it comes to the comma, serial is good.

What are your thoughts? Does anyone have examples of the serial comma causing problems? I’d also like to hear your favorite, preferably humorous, ambiguities that could have been avoided by using a serial comma.

Welcome to the Writing Well

  By Joshua | August 21, 2015 - 3:03 pm | ,
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The writing well is On the Write’s blog, dedicated to discussing any and all writing concepts and practices. From punctuation and grammar to word choice and the prewriting process, everything is fair game. Why “The Writing Well?” Many reasons. Of course, there’s the “writing well” portion of the title, denoting writing improvement. But why the article? Why add “the” to the title. “The Writing Well” refers to the blog’s goal of becoming an ever-flowing source of tips, concepts, practices, and—most importantly—discussion, about writing.

While the blog won’t replace our On the Write courses or seminars, which delve deeper into specifics and practical application; it is a space for anyone to discuss writing issues. All are welcome, from the hardened pedant to the most freestyle writer.

So, welcome to The Writing Well. Your comments, questions, and other contributions to the conversation make this blog what it is and what it aspires to be. Thank you, in advance, for being part of our community.