Writing with ,StYleConversations on the Art of Writing

Second Edition

John R' TrimbleThe (JniaersitY of Texas at Austin

PnrNrtcn Helr-, Upper Saddle River' New ]ersev 07458

7a__-\-,

ThinkingWell

The indispensable characteristic of a good uriter is a stylema*edby lucidity.

-ErnestHemirg* y

Andhous is clarity to be achieoed? Mainly bg takingtrou-ble; andbg uritingto sense people rather than to im,pressthem.

-F.L. Lucas

I ach profession, it would seem, has its own style of thought that mustI ' , be mastered before a person feels at home in it. The law certainly

does. So does architecture. And so, too, with engineering, accounting.computer programming, film directing, psychology, carpentry-r-ouname it, they all have a style of thought related to the nature of the pro-fession. It stands to reason that writing would have its own, too. {ndit does.

\itrhat a nor.ice needs more than anything, then, is to plug into thebrain of an esperienced writer-to understand the assumptiorx she hpi-cally makes, the silent monologue that is occupying her head as she com-poses, the special effects she is trying to achieve . . . \\ithout thx Stidirrsinstinct, wrifing nill remain all hit-or-miss-a frustrating repetition of trialand error, orer and orer again.

4 Fundamentah

^-..,*1rb^""q.1ning chess player faces manyof the same problems. Lackingany lcnd ot "chess sense," { players cal it, he sits bewiliered at the board]moving lirst a pawr1 then. a bfuhop, then_why not?_his q"""", Af at ran_

9o-' hopllg that somethi"g goid *ill come of it but knowine that if it. l, *::: l1l P: ," T*" piece

-of"luck. He has no idea il ,;;;;:d pJayerspt rnlnk at the board. Even sitting across from them, he cannot fathom whatg/ thel"re tryingto accomplish with apartieular move, what brunders they'retrying to avoid, what alternate game sbalegre-s they might be considejng.He can certainly appreciate *" "ff"r*,Urit tt e u"t""f-tho"ghifro""r, i,a mystery.Unfortunately, the grandmasters have made it far easier for a noviceto acquire chess sense than autlors have made it for him to acquire its rit-erary e-quivalent. They've published book after book explaini'ne how tothink chess-what opening-gambits to cmsider, *#;";;;*t,u?m *o.r.

y,"l\ yh"l endgame tactics to use. Authors of uriUng t""tr, o'ih" oth*hand, tend to stress mechanics, perh4o assuning thafpeople either knowhow to think or they don't.,r_^_-],_n_"ry,,o repair that :"$."L {ychief aim" both in this chapter andrnroughout the book, is to help 10u derdop'writer's sense." youil {ind itas in&spensable as radar to a pilot- ru besn by erylaining ho* u ,ro'i""rTt:r vpi".,+/ thinks so that when I morc-m ,t *i,t^" hlw the veteranrrunl$, you'll have a more vivid senseof ttecontrast

Ihel{orftn

Most of the novice's difficuftoe$ cart with ttre simple fact that thepaper he writes on is mute. Because it mrrer talks back'to him, and be-cause he's concentrating so hard m gmaring ideas, he r"uaity-iorg"tr-unlike the veteran-that anotherhr#,o', r*t"i*u *rt,rdry Lrtrying tomake sense of what he s saying- The reo[? His"ndurar tendericy as i u;*ter* n thmk prtT*dly of hunsety-ar* b torite prhnartly for htksety. n"r",in a nutshell' lies the ulumate neas* fw most'bad *riiii.g." --''

, He isn't aware of his egooffiim" of course, but aYl the symptomsof his root problem are ther!, b rlinl* th;;h ;;;i* ""i'r"tf n u

o Paul Burka, a Nationar tvt,agaztre"H-winning journalist and executive editorof Texas Monthlq, told one of my "r"'"s-, rt-dJ#"tir[g a writer has to do is curb hisself-indulgence.;

Thi,nkingWell

passably clear to him, since, for his purposes, it needn't be any clearer; hedispenses with transitions because it's enough thathe knows how his ideasconnect; he uses a private system-or no system-of punctuation; hedoesn't trouble to deftne his terms because he understands perfectly wellwhat he means by them; he writes page after page without bothering to varyhis sentence structure; he leaves offpage numbers and footnotes; he para-graphs onlywhen the mood strikes him; he ends abruptlywhen he decideshe's had enough; he neglectsjogJoo:frgg-the final job because the writ-ing is over . . Given his totafself-qie4tg@it's no wonder that he failsrepeaiedly as a writer. Actually, he's not writing at all; he's merely com-muning privatelywith himself-that is, hek simplyputting thoughts downon paPer.

I call this "unconscious writing." The unconscious writer is like a per-son who turns his chair away from his listener, mumbles at length to thewall, and then heads for home without a backward glance.

Basically, all it takes to begin moving from unconscious writing togenuine writing is a few moments' reflection on what the writing/readingprocess ideally involves. Think about it. What it involves is one personearnestly attempting to communicate with another. Implicitly, then, it in-volves the reader as much as the writer, sincethe success of the com'mani-cation d,epends solely onhous the reod.er receioes it. Also, since more thanone person is involved, and since all of us have feelings , it has to be as sub-ject to thn basi,c des of good manners as any other humnn relati'onshlp. Thewriter who is fully aware of these imphcations-the conscious vnifsl-1s-sembles a person who companionably faces her listener and tries her levelbest to communicate with him, even persuade and charm him in theprocess, and who eventually bids him the equivalent of a genial farewell.

The big breakthrough for the novice writer, then, will occur at themoment he begins to comprehend the. ttri"l iipli""Tns of what he'sdoing. Far from writing in a vacuum, he is conversing, ina-very real sense,with another human being, just as I am conversing right now s'ith you,even though that person-like you-may be hours, or days, ot e\:en vearsaway in time. This breakthrough parallels an infant's darvning realizationthat aworld exists beyond himself.

Achnlh', since the novice is as much a self-oriented nerrcomer tohis socialworld as the tufant is to his, we might suspect thtf &e similrri-ty doesnt end there- And we're right. Both of them pass ercugh a grad-ual process of smialization and deepening alvareness- The writer, forexample, after reabzing thet a rvorld-a reader---sisis qrt there beyond

w

6 Fundamzntals

himself, slowly comes to,develop, first, an awareness of himself from thereaders vantage point (objecti"i;;;,' ;;*;""nativeryi,tr'*?i"a.r;;:;';;#(;;;:;;f:::yr,,1;lr::l,ffiXT"T.1g;.of the reader's rights ",rd f""Itog. i;;;;r) you can see thai thewriter is essentially retracing, in"a o.*

"orr*o, the,s,a1e_ psycn_ ;Jffihe traveled as a chird' u*" 3.1"i;"#;:r*parabre. Having passed thelast stage of courtesv as 3 "hild, nr*uJJ,'. mark of a truly "Trili".d p"r_son: social sensitivitv.wri*n"'p;r;.;e stage as awrite4 he achievesthe mark of a truly civil".a "iir" .lr"tfle style.

The l"eteranThe thinhng process of a skilled qriter reflects how she conceives thef*il"1.,il1ff;.?:jil::t"T"".u,:i*.i.pingarearisticu,,a",,t".,aiogAll writing is communication- But most uniting hopes to go further.It hopes to make the rearrer.";;;ffi u'ays-with preased sm'es,nods of assent, stabs ofp"thor, or;r;;#

,or"ot"#"Yri.can say' g"""tull1' tn"t *rff:rg i-s the art of creating cle-

Now for an essaywrite4 the chiefdesired effect is persuasion. Sup_pose you are that writer. your-ant ).*;;;;;;;; r*.

*"*'J; ,.",ideas and you, their .o,r.""' ih"ilr.r# #, ttrem to ,,,iew your i-deas assound and interestingand,"t*tt-rJilo informe* direct, and com_panionable' (AIr of thlse things. "f'*,n*-; desired effects.) If you don.tpersuade them to accept^you, it,s doubtful that -r,ou,ll persuade them tollll5, nl:J," p,inJi"g.iiffi# peopre *" rik" and trusr_

The big question' then, is hcnubmin readers? Here are four essentials:I' Have something to say thars sorth their attention.'' ff;:l'

* tu ""Iatrv "iafr#-*.iT^errso vou can pitch it with con-3. Furnish strong arguments tht are rrell su4. Use "."fia""i[r"i*":1|flTT"

supported with concrete proof.phrasing.

anguage--ri.gorous r-erbs, strong nouns, and as^sertive

While that looks l;ke a preqr.firII recipe for successful writing it isn.t.E'en ifwe excrude rhr.t "tthro;-;;rft;r sti'missing-and armost

ThinkingWeII

always is. The ultimate way we win readers is by courteously sen:ingthem-that i, satisSring their needs. An experienced writer knows that to serve wellis to sell weil; "["ally,

to sell wel iJ to serve well. T]_rey are complementaryactivities. The means are inseparable from the ends'

The writer, for all practLal puryoses' does not exist without the as-sent of his readers, *ho i,^rre th" po*"t to shut him off at whim' This factof life makes pleasing them absolutely critical. But that's only fair. If w-e'regoing to usk ih"* to"give us their time and attention, then we're inthei,rtebtl.rot the other wiy around; we must be prepared to repay their kind-ness with kindness olour own. Beyond pleasing them simply to squaredebts and keep them reading, though, there's also the practical necessity rof pleasing them in order to-persnade tlem. Samuel Butler longago re-*"rk"d, "iV" ur" not won by arguments that we can analyze' but-by toneand temper, by the manner which is the man himself." I don't wholly agreewith th;, brri itt certainly close to the truth. A pleasing manner surelymakes one's arguments themselves seem pleasing because it dresses themin an aura ofreasonableness.

All of us, I think, grasp these facts of life perfectlywell as readers, butmost of us manage to ?otg"t them as writers. Being unconsciously self-oriented, we thinf,itt "no'lgh

simply to lay out our ideas. Experience keepsairpr.rl"g us, though. Reiders *ill always lnsist on having their needsf"rLa "fr?,,

ur th"y"h"rr" every right to, and if we're heedless, theyll say"Enough of you" and toss our piece aside'^ -

Ifo*, th"tt, do you ,"*" yo," t"ader? First, you must cultivate a psy-chological sense. That is, you must sensitize y-ourself to what, wins youorr"r-]ho* andwhy you respond, and what makes you f-eel well ;erv,ed-and gradually learnt6 extend that awareness to your reader. This book, in-

"ta.i Afy, tL good a place as any to start-sensitizing yourself. As you read

"l*g, y* orrgh"t to be asking youtself such questions as these: "Is his style

too implex io be readable',"or too plain, or is it just right-an$ *hyl"-What iihi" to.r", and how does he achieve it? Do I like ii or don't I?".lA/hy dcs he use a semicolon here instead of a period?" "Do I like this two-,"oalo* paragraph?,, ..what effect do his contractions have on me?" Awriter eager to improve his psychological sense never simply reads; hereads crif,a\-- Hirrnind is always alert to the manner as well as the mes-r"j., f". onhrin this u-ay will he Iearn y-hlt.works and whv it s-orls' plus*fiat doesni fiork and **rv it doesn't. He's like one musician listeningtothe chor& aDdphlPdngof another. What's special he'll imitate and makehis own.

I Fundnm.entals

Once you acquire the habit of re".rling attentively, you,ll find thatvour psychorogicar sense *ill i-pro.,,. rhdi, ;#;itirt,"r:|, tacticalsense' too' This wit have an immldiate l-p""t not only on the effective_ffi|:ffi[T#"* but on v* "*i*J'toiald ir * *Lri-v"";ri discover:"r",*","r,i#;':li,frJHJr:;tt&l*,,n:mllfl.ffi fly considerate' you"eaders';*H, #;* 9wn, wit dominat! vour think-ing. And it will grve.you gl"r"*,,rro,rdir"kly t""r' to enjoy tfie sense ofcom munion, the fellow_feelTg it bringsir ; i,il-f,i"",,lr,i",rr, uJ"r, O",".

-f.-f,T:F,_l?:y: -uch with-otherbTmao beings. -*"..,r,r-r

A :_^ _ t, ii tnrs brings^me to the second n1_. Juy of serving your read_ers: schooling vourserf tobe otrerc.toid v."r,1i" ""i"?Jrla y"",readers. vou acti...ely.tt *f. .i,il_I;#'"ry with them, empathize withthem. you trv to intuit,r,"o r**]iil"*"io ro*r"rto itiili'J*uy, ortheir convenience' not your own- yqr o".ian"- exactly as you wouid wishto be treated, withgenuine **ia"",il*r-,ilHffir{*lri" u*n**'',ii:?JlJ';j1.","':"0*=,.G"g;_*,;;;;Z;;Hl;"^._,, add *"* i",r,"i,i :rf;*::ff# nffi;:k.."^$.i*X$

t* re_ad them' note how trr"y "ppl-n -E

*o*oo as well as tJ wriung,t l. Phrase your thoSqh* clearly solw,re eas', to follow.\ 2' speakto thepoint soyoudmtG-readers'time.s 3' Anticipate rTt: T*o:* o*G-Lao"", fatigue, irritarion).S 4. offerthem varieryana*a*ffiL"t*.t.\r 5. Talkto&em$"

" ; #;:;i.tn

u *t-' open m*Frtutrad ofpontiftcaring to them likeN\ Although I,ll be foJlowingrp-onallrlresepoints in later chapters, I,dIike to expand hrt" on #r, the"t il#ay, and #3, the need io antici_pate your readers, responses. tr, "rtrG me a chance to explain moreconcretely th"

"rr,r.npiionr *a *t"*-drlt processes of a skined writer., phrase yourttqLb Clearty

A prose stvle mayb^e^eloquenq |,,r.ri1l, witty, rhythmical, and fresh asMontana air' bui if it lacra a^ri l, fu'reailrs *i'staywith it for rong. Justas no one enioys loohng at a vim, h*'r;r rp"ctacular, through a mud_;I*: #,ljo*,

,'o one enloys hrning-iJu ry-pt o.,y of word-, reduced

ThinkingWell I

Hemingway was right: clarity is the indispensable characteristic ofgood prose. It's the {irst thing a reader demands, and perhaps the hardestthing to deliver. Not only must the indMdual thoughts be clear bul even f fmore challenging, they must follow a logical sequence. Since the average l/human mind isn't accustomed to thinking systematically, trying to writeclear prose is as fatiguing as watershing. You're using muscles that nor-mally get little exercise, and they soon let you know it.

But in writing, as in waterskiing, progress does come with practice. !rAnd it's greatly accelerated by imitating the techniques and attitudes of -*

experts. Clear writers, for instance, vary widely in native intelligence, but I

they all share several attitudes:

. They assume that their chief job is to comtrnunlcate. They hope to do more,ef s6u15s-namely, persuade and charm-but they know that communica-tion must come first, especially if they are ever to achieve these other effects.

o They assume, with a pessimism born of experience, that whatever isnt plain-ly stated, the readerwill invariably misconstrue. They keep in mind that sheis, after all, a perfect stranger to their garden ofingenious ideas. In fact, toher, that garden may initially resemble a tangled thicket, if not a tropicalrain forest. This being so, theirjob as writer is to guide her through, step bystep, so that the experience will be quick and memorable. This involves alert-ly anticipating her moments of confusion and perio&cally grving her an ex-planation of where she's headed. The writer's Golden Rule is the same as themoralist's: Do unto otlers.

. They assume that even their profoundest ideas are capable ofbeing ex-pressed clearly. They arent so vain as to 'hink that their reflections tran-scend the powers of language-S punctures t-hat fantasy-norso lazy as to ask their reader to dqrble as a daiwoyant. As novelist Somer-set Maugham remarked in Tle Swaturgup:

I have never had much patience with the wrinrs $ho nlrim fromthe reader an effort to understand 1[sir me*ning. Tou bare onlvto go to the great philosophers to see '' -+ it is possible to eryresswith lucidi$' the most subtle reflections- Ym man fmd it &fficultto understand the thought of Hume, andif 1m hrc no $ilo-sophical training its implications will dmbdess escrye yuu hrtno one with any education at all can fail t udertud ffacrlywhat tle meaning of each sentence is.

o They have accepted the grim reality that nine-tentls of all writing isrewriting . .

Fundnnentals

. Perhaps most important of all, they are sticklers for continuity. They linktheir sentences and paragraphs as meticulously as if they might face crimi-nal charges for negligence.

But rather than speak for t}em, perhaps I should let a few clear writ-ers speak for themselves. Here, first, is the distinguished British historianGeorge M. Trevelyan:

The idea that histories which are delightful to read must be the work ofsuperficial temperaments, and that a crabbed sryle betokens a deepthinker or conscientious worker, is the rer-erse of the truth. What is easy toread has been dif{icult to write. The labor of writing and rewriting, cor-recting and recorrecting, is ttre due eracted by every good book from itsauthor. . The easily flowing connection of sentence with sentence andparagraph with paragraph has "ah.a.s been rn'on by the sweat of the brow.

And now novelist James A. Michenen

I have never thought of myself as a good nriter. Anyone who wants reas-surance of that should read one of mr-first dnafu. But I'm one of theworldt greatest rewriters.

And finally E.B. White, perhaps America's most respected 20th-century essayist, whose consistentlr"gracefrrl sh,le entitles him to have thelast word:

The main thing I try to do is trite as &arh- as I can. Because I have thegreatest r".p""t for the reader, and ifhei gomg to ttre trouble of readingwhat I've written-I'm a slow reader mself and I guess most peopleare-why, the least I can do is make it as easr as pJssible for him L {indout what I'm trying to say, trying to get at. I ier.titr a good deal to makeit clear.

Anticipate Yorr Rea&/s Responses

The chief dlfficulty with rmiting is that it seems a one-way process.You can't see your readert face" rou cant hear her, you can't get anyfeedback from her whatsoever. The norice writet as we've seen. is obliv-ious to this handicap. The shlled writer, though, is supersensitive to it.But he overcomes it by activelv imagining a reader-in fact, imagining

Thinki,ngWell 11

many different readers-just as an experienced TV newscaster' lookingintoihe camerak unwinking eye, actively imagines a viewer'

The hnd of r"ud", (o.i"aders) that a shlled writer imagines will de-p"rrd, of "oorse,

on the occasion, tlt" rypg of Piece he's writing' and other'.rrch ia"tors. But whatever the occasion, he'll assume the reader has a zil-lior

-or. irrteresting things to do with her time, is readingat a fast clip, and

is iust wa.l'tlngfo, oi u*irn to tune out' The writer's challenge' then' is to

arioid giving filr that excuse' The supreme challenge is to make her quiteforgetlhe other things she wanted to do'" Ho* does the-writer meet these challenges? Chiefly by empathy'The whole time he's writing, he's constantly switching back and forth fromhis own mind to hers. Like-a shlled chess player, he makes a dozen men-tal moves for every actual one. Each of them he tests as to the probable re-,fonr" it will elicit. Anticipation, he s learned, is the name of the game' Ifli" "un

anticipate " r"rponr", he has a fair chance of controlling it' So every

sentence-ye s, e1)ery sentence-receives a battery of challenges:

o ..Am I droning here? Is she ready to silence me? Is there arryway I can light-en this up?"

. "Ho* ""it I get

her to see-tofeel-the ur- gency of this point?' ^--o "Is the continuity si\ here, oi It f"tigrr" blinding me to a bump?". "Might ,h" *"1*1y1" L analogl here, ot is this abstract idea clear enough

on its own?"r "Am I treating her as if she were an idiot?'o "Is *iere any conceivable way this sentence might confuse her?"r 'Have I jusi used any of these words in previous sentences?". .will this phrase strike her as pretentious? And, honestly, am I using it to im-

press her,'or is this the only way I.ca1 gxPress the thought cleanly?". iwi[ she get the nuance ]rere, or had I better spell it out?"o "Can the p*p on me for verbosity here?"o .will she irear a strongly conversational, living voice coming through, or am

I beginning to sound like a book?"

He's equally watchful about the way h9 pul"gla9ltt ": t"-*t*\* ,

all too well encountering whaleJike paragraphs that left him sinking under Itheirweigbt, not to menltion those miniparagraphs thal \ad,his e1e

bounc- Iing down"thepage' Too much or too little ln a paragraph" he knoss" has Sesame effech it wears the reader out. He also watches the cmtinuity be-t*"""p"*g"'et'..Istheconnectionsolid?,'heaslahinse|f.-Willmyreader want an eren stuldier bridge between these lnrts of,-m.v argument?t ,tt"r" any conceirable -an'she

can feel disoriented hereF

t2 Fundnmentals

And so on, and so on. Wfitin-g yell is a long exercise in second_zuess_ing and empathizing--cven a hnd"of .rorr-o*rot", serf-induced parinoia.It puts a premium o" r""i"l r"*iti'ity, ;.;""* and goodwit. It is, in short,averycomplicated business. Bu' h{; _r;;; "h,"-;;; il; ffi,;il"r_fully challensi'e' R"**dirg, :"; "r#i,il"

genuinery communicatedwith anotheipeison, ,rhe' yo,. ',r" pro,r"dt ler to accept a new viewpoint,and when the whole learning eryeri"o"" t* i""n fun for he. becauJe v.,umade itfun forher, t'"tt a"ffii1liffig--rr"u, it's exhilarating.

Some Conduding TtoughtsI' Mumbo-iumbo isanotherqmrdfogrunts ofthe mind. Mumbo iumbo iswhat comes out in {irst uoa

""-od"doft.-*h"o yo,r,r" *riu"g!"ri""lfy?;"If^,:(#J!". o, "a""-;_,,,",fr..fr.g to fathom what_you think2. Once you've t"trl:q *qF frryounetf and begin writin gfor the read_e n your mumbo jumbo *il ut t r._g ioa noo" lide prose_i.e., ser r_tences that make sense.3. If your reader can t get yo-mfrll miqg in a single reading, however_and, a single reading b'! Jn;;; must lbce up to the facrthat I,ou,re afflicted"with ; nJ;i#bo jumbo.!. ?!. best remedyp sh""* ;ffi;; se,Eerrces.5' \\4ren 1'ou ffr"ttu ttri"l pr'*;;;"ff rcread it twic, ffrst throushthe eyes of the a'e.age ,*a*lr-_ffi* obscurities)

".rd ,e"oidthrough the eyes "fy;G*rrl;.;otherlapses). This tends tohave a nicely ct itu"! "r* * ffirffi;a underthought prose.6. As a last caution, r"a",n" g"*-JJffifrt. Then, in the morning, eoat it again-you're bourd or"*-JJ"*** outrook. Also, do as tf,eprofessional auth., d"., "4t;#;;" "r"did friends. Tell them,"I'm interested t" r""hC qFdigirql;;' not approved,r_and meanit. As reinforcement, it iigtrh+-;fi;;l'd you, fri"ods if you quotethem a remark George fi;fsh.*f,'"11_"a" to the actress EIIenTerry. Miss Terrvhadtnf.*ed;;ffi"; to deface the manuscriptsof a ptay he hudr"r,t h., tffi*.';;;." back to her,

Oh, bother the MSS., martthem as much as you like: what elseare they for? Mark errer;dftg;il*il;u. I may consider athing 49 rimes; bur ifjur dilr.;, ffiii be considered 50times; and a line 50 ri.r.es.o.-a"r"i i, 2 p"r ce.rt better than aline 49 times "orrrid.ril,r dli'.ri"'iri#, p* cent thatmakes the diff"."o"" betw"o .r"Ul#l"a mediocrity.