1. Most
people don’t know how to write properly. They thereby forego the most easily
acquired and powerful professional asset available to them.
2. One
learns to write by (i) doing it, and paying attention to the details of how one
does it; and (ii) by regularly reading superior writing. I recommend The Economist magazine. Treat reading
this each week in the same spirit as you approach regular physical exercise.
(Unless, of course, you’re a couch potato. In that case, you have two ways in
which you need to shape up.)
3. I’m
not interested in `grammar’ as a set of pedantic rules of etiquette. I’m very scrupulous about writing errors
when these lead to ambiguities or confusions in meaning.
4. Diagnostic
fact: People usually commit grammatical errors because
they try to cram too many ideas into each sentence.
5. Principle
#1: Use short sentences. A sentence needs a subject,
a verb, and an object. Once you have one of each of those, stop and start a new
sentence.
6. Principle
#2: Every sentence you write should state one thing. You should be able to ask
yourself, of each sentence you write: does this state one premise in my
argument, or one conclusion? If you ask yourself this question with respect to
any sentence you’ve written and the answer isn’t clear, then there’s something
wrong with your sentence.
7. Principle
#3: When you identify a sentence you’ve written as
stating a conclusion, this means that the next sentence you write should start
a new paragraph. (That is: each argument you make should constitute one paragraph.)
8. Diagnostic
fact: Students often write badly because they try to
sound `scholarly’ by using esoteric words.
9. Principle
#4: Don’t use a thesaurus (electronic or printed).
There are very few true synonyms in English. Generally, non-everyday words have
very precise meanings. Use these only when you’re sure you know the precise meaning in question, and that precise meaning is
what you intend. Otherwise, use everyday words whenever possible.
10.
Principle #5: Don’t
over-rely on MS-Word’s grammar checking device. It catches only (some) very basic mistakes, and calls some things
mistakes that actually aren’t. However,
Word’s grammar checker works better the shorter your sentences. On long
sentences, it’s almost completely unreliable.
11.
Principle #6: When you make spelling mistakes, MS-Word’s
spell-checker will, at least 60% of the time, plug in some other word that’s
spelled similarly to your accident. This can turn small spelling mistakes into
whopping errors of meaning, which are much worse. Pay attention to Ms-Word’s
identification of spelling mistakes, but don’t
assume that the alternatives it suggests are correct. Use a real
dictionary.
12.
Diagnostic fact: Writing
is not talking on paper. When you
talk to someone, you have all sorts of supplementary devices running that
communicate and disambiguate information: vocal inlections, body language,
facial expression, direction of gaze, etc.. When you write you’ve got only your words. This is comparable to
the difference between regular driving and driving with your arms tied behind
your back, using your teeth on the steering wheel. In both cases, the harder
thing requires careful attention to avoid crashing.
13.
Principle #7: Read
your writing back to yourself without varying your tone of voice as you go.
Imagine you’re hearing its message for the first time. Could you understand
what the essay was trying to say if some other author of it – not you – read it
to you like this out of the blue, in a monotone? If the answer is `no,’ then
you still have work to do.
14.
Principle #8: Remember
that your reader isn’t inside your head, seeing or hearing your thoughts. What
isn’t actually there on paper won’t
be understood.
15.
Principle #9: Have
a clear plan for what you’re going to write, in what order, with reasons for
this order that you can articulate to yourself. But write your introductory
paragraph last, when you actually
know exactly what’s going to come.
16.
Principle #10: After
your whole draft is written, ask of each sentence, one at a time, what it
contributes to the argument that isn’t contributed by some other sentence. If this isn’t immediately clear, then the sentence
is probably redundant and should be cut.
17.
The
social morality of writing: Asking another person
– your professor, your boss, your co-workers – to read something that is
sloppily written is insulting to them. You want them to put aside their other
business and spend time with your thoughts.
Yet you then present them with something that suggests that you couldn’t be
bothered to put in the time and patience to reduce their workload by making
your meaning maximally clear. What does this signal to them about your regard
for them, or for the value of their time, or for the value of the course you’re
taking or the project you’re part of or the firm you work for? Unless you write
nothing but a diary for your own consumption, you have an interpersonal and social
responsibility to write as well as you can. The market richly rewards
people who take this responsibility seriously.