The Fix
Sentence 1
University students were asked to write a short paragraph on what they read for pleasure. One student wrote this:
I need to read books about things that can actually happen or are true stories.
Feedback
The genre “non-fiction” refers to books “about things that can actually happen or are true stories.” So, you could rewrite this sentence:
I like to read nonfiction.
Another possibility is:
I prefer nonfiction.
Note that your word count goes from 15 to 5 or 3 depending on which rewrite you choose.
Sentence 2
One of us politely suggested to an undergraduate student with an A average that she couldn’t write. The student responded with an email that included this sentence:
I believe I understand full well the mechanisms of the English language.
Feedback
We responded by critiquing the student’s complete email. For the sentence above, we offered this:
Anybody who knows how to write would never have written this sentence. You could have written
I think I know how to write,
or, more simply,
I know how to write.
Additional Comment on Both Sentences
Once again, you can see that both sentences are easily understood. You know exactly what each student is trying to convey. In fact, both are grammatically correct. But both are clumsy and you can rewrite them with many fewer words. The principle is simple: When you express an idea, use as few words as possible.
One of the difficulties with this principle is that most university students in the humanities are trying to do exactly the opposite to meet the required word count. Word-count constraints do not foster good writing.
Odds and Ends
You Should Make “Good Writer” a Component of Your Professional Brand
William Zinnser has written one of the most popular style books, On Writing Well. It was first published in 1976 and has sold well over a million copies. In the second chapter, he writes the following on his principle of simplicity:
“Clear thinking becomes clear writing; one can’t exist without the other. It’s impossible for a muddy thinker to write good English.”
(taken from William Zinnser, On Writing Well)
Lewis Lapham is one of the finest American essayists. He was editor of Harper’s for over thirty years and he now edits Lapham Quarterly. He writes:
“Some years ago on its editorial page, the New York Times handed down the ruling that, ‘Great publications magnify beyond measure the voice of any single writer.’ The sentence employed the wrong verb. The instruments of the media amplify a voice, serving much the same purposes as a loudspeaker in a ballpark or a prison. What magnifies a voice is the force of mind and the power of expression, which is why Shakespeare’s plays still draw a crowd in Central Park, and why we find the present in the past, the past in the present, in voices that have survived the wreck of empires and the accidents of fortune.” (Lewis Lapham, “The Gulf of Time,” Lapham’s Quarterly (1, no. 1, 2008), 12.
Both authors tell us that the force of a thinker’s mind shows up in his or her writing. Zinnser suggests that there is a class of people who don’t think well and, for this reason, will never be able to write well. Let’s assume for the moment he’s correct.
Now consider this scenario. You’re a young professional just hired into a job in which you are going to have to do some writing. Maybe you’re a lawyer, or a doctor, or a professor, or a military officer, or a journalist, or an engineer, or a scientist, or an analyst, or … (this list is long). You think well and have been asked to solve an organizational problem for which you’re required to submit a written report to your supervisor. Unfortunately, you’re not yet a good writer, so your report does not read well. With this draft, your supervisor doesn’t know how to classify you. You might be intelligent, but have not yet learned how to write. Or you might be one of Zinnser’s muddy thinkers who will never think or write well. We think it’s in your best interest to learn to write well as soon as you can, preferably before you finish university. Doing so will enhance your professional brand.