graphic by Aaron Burden @aaronburden
We writers tend to produce our best work when we write with intellectual curiosity and some passion or joy. Writing this piece, I did experience those but also something else: dread.
This “writing tips” project, proposed by a good writer, my son, and improved by another good writer, my daughter, felt worthwhile. In a time when much writing, especially internet-based, is shaky, good-faith discussions of standards in contemporary writing seem useful.
So I started my own discussion. But every sentence I wrote seemed stalked by this dread: In something over 2,000 words, I will inevitably write much that’s arguable, including making some mistakes of the very types against which I’m warning, thus risk coming across as unable even to follow my own advice.
If I used social media and cared about being “flamed,” posting these writing tips would terrify me. But I don’t do social media and do realize how the intentions of any writer are often imperfectly executed, so I’m just resigned to inevitable valid criticism, not completely terrified.
In fact, any criticism of this article will likely come from people who read it carefully. It will be free editing.
I’ll start with some notes on word issues. A following article will comment on larger-scale issues of composition.
Word Issues
• Words are more often repeated in close proximity by writers who are lazy, lousy, or both
Special awards for the stylistic stink bomb of quickly repeated words (QRW) go to many sportswriters. Their favorite dumb-ass repetition is “after,” as in:
After pulling left-hander Leonard, the frustrated manager later brought in another left-hander, after righty Richards had given up three runs.
After putting up no points in the first half, the Titans finally got back in the game, after struggling on defense in the third quarter.
Any writer so inept at sequence as to awkwardly repeat “after” in a single sentence should consider a new profession, but not directing traffic.
Also up high (or down low?) among QRW is “but but.” This one’s especially popular among writers who dither sensitively and might take twenty minutes to order lunch:
The power outages around here are bothersome but usually don’t last long. But the improving infrastructure should help.
The newspaper I subscribe to, though generally strong in writing and editing, had a triple QRW recently, something like:
Investing in start-ups might be exciting, but such investing lags more conservative approaches to investing, as patient investing usually but eventually triumphs.
Any word or variations on a word can become QRW:
I was excited about this off-beat camping trip. This was a vacation that proved to be exciting, comfortable, and off-beat.
This tip requires some subtle fine-tuning. Sometimes a word or a phrase purposefully used in a parallel structure can be a useful rhetorical device (rather than just a suggestion that the writer has a limited vocabulary):
I’ve become intolerant of anonymous internet trollers, as they’ve become intolerant of face-to-face conversation.
This extreme aversion to QRW is a personal preference of mine, I admit. Seeing it as often as I do, apparently my opinion is shared by only a minority of writers and editors. Still, I humbly suggest, QRW usually produces palpable weakness: text that’s sing-song and reads as carelessly written.
Having read this, you might become alert to published QRW. Reading the next one, maybe you’ll grumble at the page or screen something like “And you’re a professional writer?”
• Infirm words
As might be apparent, I’m not an academic authority on writing and not a Ph.D., though seeing what post-graduate education often does to people in the arts, well, I’m satisfied with the limit of my schooling.
Words are like vegetables; everyone dislikes a few. If you disagree with my choices, you might have your own. I’d be interested in your selections.
The big lame-o word for me is “hopefully.” Granted, dictionaries now recognize one definition of “hopefully” as “it is to be hoped.” But even though the predominant use of that adverb isn’t some offense against grammar or usage, the usage is still drowsy and dopey, somewhere south of “y’know.” It’s a sugar sandwich that somehow became popular.
The easiest way to explain the infirm use of this adverb is to contrast it to the word used in a way that actually means something:
The survivors of the accident still look hopefully toward the future.
That’s articulates something clearly, right? But this is wilted word salad:
Hopefully, the future will be better for the accident survivors.
Who’s hoping? The writer? Some unidentified compassionate onlookers?
The soft-brained hopefully is often incoherent as well as cheesy:
When Roger and Debby explain things, hopefully Don’s hurt feelings will be understandable to Susan.
OK, who’s hoping here? Roger and Debby? Don? Susan? The mush-brained writer?
Coming across “hopefully,” I often think of the famous “Frozen Peas” rant by the great director and actor Orson Welles, which was recorded on an open mike in a recording studio in 1970. He was venting during his pocket-money job reading insipidly written and stupidly directed radio commercials. Fearlessly insulting the client and the copywriter, Wells derided “. . . things that are only correct because they’re grammatical, but they’re tough on the ear.”
Sure, a breezy use of “hopefully” might be excusably grammatical, but it’s also an offense against real thought and good writing. It’s tough on my ear, anyway.
Please take my own rant here as just one subjective criticism of words commonly used in a way indicating poor thought or no thought. (I’m not bothering to note internet acronyms, yech.)
Another major mushy adverb: “literally.” My friend Chris Brewster and I once got a big laugh when a radical protestor proclaimed how his movement would advance following recent street battles with police: “We are literally going to take this movement underground!” Of course, the movement was not going to stockpile shovels or move into Strangelove-ian mineshaft space. That “literally” was intended as ideological emphasis, one of those intentions that usually comes out dumb.
The infamous “literally” actually has another dumb application, one often made by writers whose high school English teacher didn’t get around to the “figure of speech” lesson:
There are literally hundreds of cars on this lot.
Could the lot have hundreds of cars figuratively? Maybe some salesman literally couldn’t count that high.
A number of popular words now almost always come off as poisonous. One is “incredible,” which traditionally meant not believable. Now it’s usually meant as a synonym of “wonderful.” Maybe this adjective usage is appropriate for audiences who are especially credible.
Other pop poison words include “awesome” and “outrageous.” Perhaps those seem just fine to you. If they do, congratulations. You’re younger than I am.
A following article will deal with composition issues.