I collect interesting sentences. Here’s one:
“It’s become apparent that it’s taking longer to generate the same number of clients.”
The sentence is technically correct.
But it doesn’t quite pass the clarity test, and here’s why:
“It’s” is a contraction.
It stands for: “It is.”
It also stands for: “It has.”
This sentence uses both contractions – a grammatical hiccup
that slows us down.
Our first question is, “Which version of the contraction is this?” The only way to answer that is to re-read the sentence until we pick the one that makes sense. Admittedly, we do this really fast, so fast, in fact, that we might not notice the glitch at all.
But that’s not the point.
Effective writing shouldn’t slow us down, ever.
Here’s my loop-de-loop:
“IT IS become apparent” that “IT IS taking longer”
“IT HAS become apparent” that “IT HAS taking longer”
“IT HAS become apparent that IT IS taking longer…”
Written that way, the sentence is grammatically correct. It passes the clarity test, too. But just because something is grammatically correct doesn’t mean it flows smoothly. That’s why contractions are useful; they add rhythm to our writing.
It’s ok to use contractions when we write. We just have to be consistent so that our readers follow what we are trying to say.
What to do?
Choose one contracted form of it is/it has (it’s/it’s) for the entire piece and try to stick with it. Once you establish your choice up front, we’ll instinctively follow along.
For example:
“It has become apparent that it’s taking longer…”
“It’s become apparent that it is taking longer…”
Which version do you prefer? Hint: Both are written in chunky-clunky passive voice; something we’ll address in a future posting.
It’s Confusing
Get Free from Complimentary Offers!
If it’s FREE, how come you’re calling it “complimentary?”
Good question – and that’s what our topic is today. The most eye-catching, heart-pounding, “What are they giving me?” word in the English language is FREE.
Free is a four-letter word. It’s bold. It’s catchy. It’s memorable.
Free snags attention and helps us remember your offer.
Our ears perk up when we hear the announcer shout, “It’s Free!”
And so do our eyes. We all like free: We want free gifts. Free time. A life free of hardship.
Free is also statistically proven to drive action. That’s why the word gets used time and time again.
Free is not a silly, low-brow word…so how come it falls prey to “complimentary?”
The Case Against Complimentary:
It has 13 characters and five syllables. That makes it one of the longer words in everyday language. Swap it out for its synonym (free!) and your writing will flow smoothly.
It doesn’t pass the say it/write it test: We don’t go around telling potential customers that we offer a complimentary consult – we tell them it’s FREE.
Rhythmic writing reads like the spoken word.
It’s easy to misspell: Swap the “i” out for an “e” and you are talking about contrasting colors that, when blended, become neutral. Spell-check won’t catch that error, but your reader might.
Complimentary is a visual mouthful. You’ll never, ever see it in a headline…so why use it at all?
Not convinced? Check out the definition of the word:
Complimentary: Given free as a courtesy or favor.
The Devil is in the Exciting Details
I just finished writing an article about walking vacations for Walk About magazine. I was trying to find a clever hook for the piece.
It started as:
It’s a walker’s paradise out there. From Redondo Beach to the mountains of Maine walking opportunities abound for walkers and hikers, from the under-fit pacer to the uber-fit stomper
Then I decided to reverse the order, see if that sounded better. This is a good trick. When you have comparison-type sentences (like “from somewhere, to somewhere”) you should mess with the order to see if you can inject more detail and excitement.
Can glory in (a phrase I tossed in to see how it tasted)
The under-fit pacer to the uber-fit stomper, walking opportunities abound from (the beginning of a re-written comparison)
And (almost) ended as:
From Redondo Beach to the mountains of Maine, walkers and hikers – from the under-fit pacer to the uber-fit stomper – can find a walking paradise right here in the USA.
That’s an improvement. While I was patting myself on the back for a stronger sentence, my muse tapped me on the shoulder and said this:
Because of my early travels, my grandma used to say to me: “You have sand in your shoes.” After polling walkers nationwide, I realized: I’m not alone.
Whether you are an under-fit pacer or an uber-fit stomper, these walking vacations offer you the chance to kick up your heels. You’ll get sand in your shoes, mud on your boots, or at the very least, sunburned toes.
So pack your bags, throw in an extra pair of socks and let’s take a walk across America.
Yeah, it’s way better. So I/we went with it.
When Your Muse & Internal Editor Square Off
This is me before I sit down to write:
To my muse I say:
“Ok, we’re going to start this in an hour.”
“Got it.”
“Will you be ready?”
“Sure.”
I don’t feel she’s ready, but I have to take her word on it.
I/we sit down at the keyboard.
I flex my fingers, and say, “Give me a good first sentence.”
What happened in the next 30 seconds will take me far longer to explain than it took to experience. My goal is to demonstrate intuition (here, knowing the “right” way to handle a writing problem,) so hang in there.
Mary Jones is a people person.
I froze. My internal editor, who is not my muse (and who I usually keep muzzled,) shrieked: “That is a god-awful sentence!”
The next sentence I typed was equally bad. It matched the first one perfectly – and it made my internal editor so angry I deleted it almost as fast as I wrote it. I should have saved it, then you could read it here today.
I don’t remember the sentence, because I was focused on regaining control of my writing process.
I paused, closed my eyes briefly and said, “Mary Jones is a business coach. We’re not going to use the word “coach.” We’re not going to use the word “training.” (These were client requests) Let’s write about how she helps develop the people who work for big corporations.”
This was the next sentence:
Mary Jones is a people person.
And she helps people – the names and faces behind the word “company” “organization” and “group” achieve their financial and personal business goals.
The rest of the article came together in less than two hours.
Sound easy? Yes and no. Intuition is a mighty force; to paraphrase Louis Pasteur:
“Chance favors the prepared mind.”
Plenty of thought went into those two sentences:
First, I did my homework (interview, research, and mull-it-over time.)
I applied what I know about corporate life (I’m a 20-year vet of a cube farm.)
I thought about how hard it is to personalize the impersonal.
And I thought about my client, how her business model is akin to breaking into a maximum security prison and teaching the inmates how to square dance: It’s a tall order, but it can be done.
My second round of thinking went like this:
People do business with people. And we like to know that there is a person inside a giant corporate complex, not an inaccessible voice mail system.
The nouns, “company” “organization” and “group” are examples of meaningless corporate-speak that are the same as saying “corporate box with no personality.”
My client helps people, not empty nouns, succeed.
But her clients are the people who populate that corporate box. So she needs a clever, “out-of-the-box” way to talk to them.
To sum it up, I had a “prepared mind,” one that was ready for “intuition,” or maybe just inspired writing.
But, and there’s always an if, and, or but when it comes to the writing process:
No matter how well-prepared you are, you can’t get there if you listen to your internal editor.
So here are two reasons why you should muzzle her.
1. She is hyper-critical, says nothing helpful, and shakes your confidence.
2. She will, if you let her, completely disrupt your writing routine. Once she starts chattering, she’s hard to shut up. If you listen, you tune out your muse (who will need cajoling and chocolate chip cookies before you can convince her to return.) Once your inner editor takes hold of your creative mind, you are in for an unproductive, miserable experience that will only increase your reluctance to write.
If it's All About Me, How Come it's So Hard to Write?
In this example, I am describing an upcoming talk about what makes good written content for an online audience. This blurb is about me, and it is hard to write about yourself.
What it started as:
When it comes to online social networking and social media, she is an expert in helping audiences understand “what makes good content” and how good writing is key in these online arenas.
What it ended as:
Her expertise lies in helping audiences understand what makes good content, and how strong writing is a key to success in online social networking and social media.
What’s wrong with the first sentence?
Passive voice in the first version. Long, awkward construct. The point gets made, but it’s wordy.
Then I used the word “good” twice. That bothered me, so I needed to find a better word.
I also wanted to get rid of “When” as a sentence start. It’s a sentence about good writing, so I think it should be well-written.
To tell the truth, I don’t like “key” either but got stuck in a mind-debate over meaning:
“Critical” is not right. “Trick” is not right.
The phrase, “key to success,” is a cliche and I try to avoid using cliches in writing (as should all Reluctant Writers). But then again, cliches and stereotypes exist for a reason: They tell a quick story in a few words and generally get the point across.
What’s wrong with the second sentence?
For the record, I don’t like it either. I think it’s still awkwardly written. It’s still got a low-action tone to it. Hey, it’s about ME, and the words I chose don’t “tell my story” the way I want it told. I’m passionate about what makes good content, and you can’t tell that from this sentence.
I left the sentence alone – for now – because it’s equally important to consider how and where the content will be used. In this instance, it’s a brief bio for a landing page on someone else’s website. Colloquial or cliche language is acceptable, because my goal is effective communication, not rivaling Hemingway for sentence construct and clarity.
Fixing a Deadly Dull Sentence
This example comes from an article I edited. It's about "green" household cleaners.
What it started as:
When a “green” product is really “green” it will usually come at a price premium.
What it ended as:
Green products generally cost more money.
What’s going on?
I chose a simpler sentence structure. The first version is written in the passive voice. It also includes the future state “will usually.” Combine the two elements and you get a deadly dull sentence.
Second, ditch the word, “really.” Is it really green as in really and truly earth-friendly, or is it really green like a really green green or a grass-green or a gray-green? In this instance, the word “really” is what’s called a misplaced modifier. In this case, an MM is easily avoided if you cut out the word “really.”
In general, qualifiers like “really” and “very” can be removed without impacting sentence structure and clarity. If you feel like you need those words to strengthen your meaning, your active verb is likely weak. Run some combos and get ‘er fixed.
How to avoid:
Say what you mean. This is the classic exercise that suggests you write like you’re talking to a friend. If you wouldn’t say to your best gal pal, “When a ‘green’ product is ‘green’ it will usually come at a price premium,” don’t write it either.
My Battle with a Locavore
Today's example is from the bio I’m writing for her.
My first idea was this one.
Her experience as a natural foods chef (a locavore before the term became hip), a renowned pastry chef (her treats were featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous), and a salon manager for Aveda in its early days (when they offered only five skin care products), are what helps Jane offer synthesize her experience in custom-crafted treatments that her clients love.
Followed by this one:
She has experience as a natural foods chef (a locavore before the term became hip), a renowned pastry chef (her treats were featured on Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous), and was a salon manager for Aveda in its early days (when they offered only five skin care products). It’s this wealth of knowledge – about food, people, and what healthy skin care means – are what allows her to provide custom-crafted treatments that her clients love.
I went with this:
She has experience as a natural foods chef, a renowned pastry chef, and a salon manager for Aveda in its early days. It’s this wealth of knowledge – about food, people, and what healthy skin care means – that allows her to provide custom-crafted treatments that her clients love.
What was going on?
I was in love with the parenthetical comment idea, but the flow never worked out. I spent far too much time tweaking it before I gave up. Remember, the more you love a sentence, the more likely it is to be booted.
Once I accepted that, and saved it to another file, I did what I knew I was going to have to do in the first place – streamline the sentence and get on with it.
What was wrong with the first two ideas?
Two things: One, the word locavore needs to be defined. It supposedly means buying local -- but the only way to explain that is parenthetically, or set off by commas. Parentheses within parentheses? Not a good idea.
Second, the idea is clever -- probably too much so. If you run the word combos, you'll notice that the subject-verb agreement is off. That's what I kept tweaking. I have a good ear for the written and spoken word and no matter how I tried, the result was wonky. So I gave up. Sort of.
That's because Reluctant Writers don’t quit. Good writing take practice, patience, and trial and error. Even after 20 years I don't "know better." I just keep trying.
I’ll dig around for some examples that eventually worked.
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