The Hard Part of Writing

I haven’t mentioned this “the hard part of writing” in a while. Long enough ago that I don’t entirely remember what I wrote back then, but you probably don’t either, so it won’t matter if I repeat myself.

The hard part of writing is when you have a perfectly grammatical sentence, but it the sentence could be better—but and you have to think to make it better.

Here are I will share a few rules of thumb to make it writing good sentences a little easier.

Avoid using a false subject. Examples: “there is,” “there are,” and “it is.” (Except with the weather. You can say, “It’s raining.” But You can improve even on that: “Look at that rain!” “Good weather for ducks, eh?” “The rain is really coming down.”)

It’s a real problem
We have a real problem

… it hit me that I might still have special privileges with them
I realized that I might still have special privileges with them

It’s often said that faster is better
My shop teacher always said that faster is better.

Make the subjects of your sentences real.

Avoid using Use a better verb than the verb “to be.” (By which I mean all the forms of that verb, not just the infinitive.) “Make” and “do” are good ones to stay away from, too. This is why it’s using some other verb is harder: You have to think of another word. But if you do, your writing will be more colorful, interesting, and meaningful.

…which is the biggest rocket humanity has made.
…which currently stands as by far the biggest rocket humanity has made.

The writer wrote the second line is what the. It’s Better, isn’t it?

Nouns are better than pronouns. I mentioned this recently, so it’s not necessary I don’t need want to repeat myself. The idea is that Pronouns generally have words they refer to (antecedents) and your reader might have trouble figuring out what the antecedent is the pronoun refers to.

You might think of some more rules, but these are enough should give you enough to think about for a start. I made it this post hard enough to read by sharing some of my edits.

I mentioned conciseness recently, but avoiding unnecessary words is a good enough rule that it bears repeating. Make your writing concise.

Here’s a related comic, a Luann from a couple years back:

Got any suggestions of your own? Share in the comments.

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This is rule three of my five gold rules of expository writing, after clear and correct (two  kinds). I held off a bit waiting for some good examples of not being concise, so I could be a curmudgeon bwhahaha.

Okay, let’s get serious. When you’re concise, you use all the words that are necessary, but no more. “On a daily basis” is not concise, because “daily” means the same thing. The rule is if you can say something with fewer words, do so. A synonym, terse, means “being a little too concise, so you sound unfriendly.” We won’t get into that. Being concise means you don’t waste your reader’s time or distract your reader from your content. Here are a few bad examples, anonomized to prevent embarrassment:

The first screen you will view is the ‘My Profile’ screen which is your profile.  This screen is broken down into 3 sections

Here’s concise:

The first screen is the ‘My Profile’ screen, which has 3 sections

Better, right? Here’s another:

Next, click on the ‘My Plan’ tab to view the details and/or to update your Performance Plan

The “next” isn’t necessary from the context, which I’m not showing.

Click  ‘My Plan’ to view or update your Plan

Microsoft (and Apple) specify a certain amount of conciseness in their style guides. For example you should “click OK,” not “click on the OK button.” I’m writing this a couple weeks ahead of when this’ll be posted, so I’ll keep my eyes open for some more examples:

Do you live in a remote area, or otherwise have difficulty bringing your computer in for repair?

Not as colorful, but definitely more to the point:

Do you have difficulty bringing your computer in for repair?

Here’s one I ran into today. I’ll just mark out the redundancy.

Hoffman-Richter Warranty Registration is currently not available as of this time.

You probably remember this lesson from grade school:

Take it from the Tinkersons

“May” is permission; “can” is ability, right?

“May” has branched out in its meaning. Now it often is used as a mild form of “might.” (My advice: if you can use “might,” use it. Your writing will have more punch.)

As in the comic, “can” is moving in on the territory that used to belong to “may.” I had an editor insist that I use “can” in a math curriculum we were writing once. She was a PhD and the boss, so that’s what I did.

“May” and “can” are called auxiliary verbs in this usage (when they go with another verb). Full name is modal auxiliary, perhaps because they change form in the subjunctive to “might” and “could.”

These words in their subjunctive forms have become more or less interchangeable. You can say “Might we go to town?” as easily as you can say “Could we have some more coffee, please?”

I’m not going to try to start a fight about these words, but permission vs. ability is still a useful distinction, and using “may” when you mean “might” is superfluous.

If you can, you may use “might” when that’s what you mean.

I’ve been working at a remote location lately, so I rented a cheap room to eliminate the long commute. As it happens, the room doesn’t have internet access, and my access from work is somewhat limited. However, I managed to find a place exactly on the way from work to my room, and I’ve gotten into the habit of stopping there to do things like catch up on email and work on this blog. They’ve gotten used to seeing me, and don’t seem to mind that I don’t order a full meal every time I show up. I should add that the place just opened—the guy who runs an Italian restaurant on the other side of town bought a dive and cleaned/classed it up to be a neighborhood tavern with a nautical theme. It’s called Loafers, and it’s on Route 40 in Aberdeen, Maryland.

I decided to write a poem about the place as a thank-you for their hospitality. They liked it, and talked about framing it and hanging it up. Here it is:

Give heed to me, boys,
And I’ll tell you all a tale
Of a tavern in this town
That’s big as a whale!
It used to be a scow,
But now it is a yacht.
It took a lot of work,
But look at what they’ve got!
The grub is pretty good,
And so is the booze.
The only problem now,
Is what you’re gonna choose!
So come on in and sit awhile,
And even bring a friend,
And get a bite to eat and drink.
—And this is the end!

(Naturally I have to include some useful information about writing;) here’s a note about the meter. Think about the meter of a lot of nursery rhymes, such as Old King Cole. You can nod your head to the stressed beats—they’re all the same distance apart in time, but the number of unstressed beats between them varies. That’s the type of meter in this poem. It’s called accentual meter.

I wrote a couple more poems, about two of the staff—a limerick and a double-dactyl—and then another (a ballad) about everyone, but I’m not vain enough to make you endure all four. One poem is enough. But maybe you’re curious. I published them and several others over on allpoetry.com. I go by the name of hairface.

I recently posted about profanity, mentioning that profanity is sometimes called four-letter words, and Anglo-Saxon. There’s more to Anglo-Saxon than that! Lot’s of good stuff. After all, the early English were hard-working farmers and craftsmen. I ran into a nice encomium about Old English in Medium, which I recommend—it’s a short read. Here’s the last line; it motivated me to post this post.

When you write, think about this split. If you wish for your words to be clean and true, pick the one from old English. If your desire is to appear erudite and pretentious, select the French.

Read the article to see the explanation for the bold and italic. Pretty good advice for good writing, too.