Decades ago, one of my most cherished exercises as a grammar school tot was the vocabulary quiz. Kindergarteners were exempt, but when we reached first grade we were expected to learn twenty new words each week – their spelling, correct pronunciation and proper use in a sentence.
As far as I was concerned, forty weekly words would have been acceptable. Every word was a little key that unlocked another part of the world, a window that opened onto new and intriguing vistas. Words with multiple syllables were my favorites. Tumbling off the tongue like grade-schoolers at play, it seemed as though they could go on forever. Walking to school in the morning, I’d rehearse them in my mind. Perspicacity. Archetype. Lacuna. Paraphernalia. Abnegate. Chrysanthemums.
The learning process never varied. My flashcards were white cardboard rectangles with words printed in red on one side and definitions printed in black on the other. Each evening after supper, we’d linger at the table and flip through the cards. Mom would give me a definition, and I’d tell her the word. Then, we’d reverse the process. Dad would give me a word; I’d attempt to spell it and give the definition.
Sometimes we made vocabulary drill even more of a game by using each word in the funniest sentence possible. Now and then, if we were feeling creative, we’d punish each other with terrible plays on words. Sometimes, I’d help myself remember a spelling by using a sentence as a clue. It took weeks to learn how to spell chrysanthemum. Finally, I thought of my friend Chris and used her name to help me spell the name of the flower: “Chrys an the Mums went to town for lunch…”
Because our new words had to be used, teachers nudged us toward writing, and we learned to diagram sentences. We started on the most basic level, identifying and properly placing subject, predicate, articles and prepositions. Gradually, independent and dependent clauses appeared, and little stems, platforms and long lines reached out to the edge of meaning.
“The dog chased the cat” was where we started, but it wasn’t long before we were dissecting “The brown, mischievous dog chased the cat around the house until he caught her behind the blackberry bushes”.
Eventually, “The brown mischievous dog, in a frenzy of doggie attitude, decided to chase the cat but gave up the effort after his frustrated and irritated owner came after him with a broom and threats of banishment.”
And we diagrammed it all. By the time we were done, the blackboard was covered with lines, slashes, dashes and arrows and a breathless class collapsed into giggles as the unfortunate grammarian finished and stepped back, awaiting the teacher’s verdict.
Behind the exercises, there was a pair of assumptions about language: that a bigger vocabulary is better, and that sentences which have a clear, firm structure can be loaded down with exquisite, shimmering words until they bow like picnic tables covered with hams, salads and cakes.
Those days of learning to love piled-high buffets of words and sentences came to mind recently when a friend mentioned he’d been attending class to learn how to write shorter sentences. I suspect he was partly joking, or giving us only part of the story, but his remark led me to think about assorted bits of advice I’ve received since starting to write:
Short sentences are good, and shorter sentences are better.
Don’t overwhelm your reader with complexity.
Don’t use words that require a dictionary.
Remember that readers have short attention spans.
Write so a sixth grader can understand what you have to say.
Limit yourself to one or two syllable words whenever possible.
Don’t bloat your writing with adjectives and adverbs.
Never go over 300 words.
When these little bits are gathered up into one place and committed to the page, they appear to suggest one further bit of advice: remember you are writing for dunces.
If the same logic were applied to other fields, the absurdity would be obvious. Tell a painter to limit herself to primary colors and brush strokes no longer than one inch in length, and it’s a turpentine bath for you. Tell a Master Gardener none of his plants can exceed six inches in height, or that he only can use perennials and you’ll be tossed onto the compost heap. Suggest to a chef she restrict herself to recipes using five ingredients or fewer, or that no dish should take longer than ten minutes to prepare, and you’ll be eating frozen dinners – alone.
You still might have a picture to hang on the wall, a bit of color for your patio and dinner on the table, but the look and taste of life would be diminished immeasurably.
This isn’t meant to be an argument for incomprehensible paragraphs, the misuse of words or pretentious grammatical constructions. I happen to be one of those throwbacks who believe spelling counts, complete sentences are good, and clarity makes writing more enjoyable for the reader.
On the other hand, while little words and short sentences have their legitimate role to play in everything from daily journalism to great literature, there is no reason that less-common words and more complex sentences can’t be chosen and structured in such a way that they communicate meaning clearly and memorably.
A writer isn’t called to choose little words over big words, or short sentences over long. The writer is called to search for the right word, the right sentence and the right language to discover and communicate meaning – whatever form those words and sentences take.
There is a time – a perfectly acceptable time – for simple, understated prose:
He always had liked the weather. He became a weatherman to earn a living, but discovered it had become his whole life. He wanted to quit his job, but it didn’t seem the responsible thing to do.
But there also is a time for this:
While weather always had been a flirtation, a coy glance toward the effortless clouds and the steaming land left shining after rain, he never had intended prediction to become a habit, a means toward any end other than maintaining life and funding its strange necessities.
He dreamed of leaving, turning from the constraints of time and deadline to the deliciousness of impulse, the effortless breathing through the day once known in youth but now denied to the years-weary toiler he had become.
For a writer, choosing the right approach is the trick.
I envy you, Linda, I really do! By envy I don’t mean just envy for wit but also writ skill. Wish I could make it to my graduation day on Linguistic major I was attending during my study at the university ….
Heck, choice was made … and now I have to struggle each and every darn day to being a bit more wordly by subscribing to dictionary[dot]com in order to keep me going on here on WP ^sigh^
Nevertheless, thank goodness I got you blogrolled so that I can easily reach your blog from my main page for new words worth acquiring
Keep up the great work! (at least for me please?)
Hi, Baba,
But look – you’ve already given me a wonderful new phrase! I’ve never heard anyone speak of being “more wordly”, and yet that is a terrific description of what so many writers hope for. Not “wordy”, in the sense of using too many words, but “wordly”, as in skilled in the use of words.
That’s what I think, anyhow!
See? My vocabulary just grew! Many thanks for stopping by and giving me a new word.
Linda
Linda: Great blog. Looks like you followed your “writer’s soul” on this one. For those of us who occasionally (okay, maybe more than occasionally) write longer sentences, this is good stuff. Ken
Ken,
As someone said to me once, pick the voices you listen to very carefully, because you’ll start to sound like them. She also suggested putting the voices we hear in our heads at the top of the list. It’s hard to do, but I think she was right. I’m practicing.
Muchas gracias!
Linda
This is a great piece, Linda. However, for those of us who target our writing to others in our business/department, or potential customers or suppliers; short and concise is much preferred. Some years ago (10 or 11) a study of business practices found that the average worker received 147 written communications daily!!! With this figure in mind if you wish to have some one actually read your memo, keep it short and to the point. So just possibly this is where some of the advice is coming from.
Afternoon, Barb,
Well, absolutely. And there are technical writers, marketing sorts and a whole variety of folk in other settings who need to be concerned primarily with clear, concise communication of information.
Even in the blogosphere, there’s a good bit of commitment to “short and sweet” as the key to success.
You want people to be able to click in and out quickly, enjoy the stay and then move on to whatever’s next thinking, “I’ll come back”.
I don’t quarrel with any of that. But I do think it’s a mistake for folks who write to assume that’s the only model for success, or that no one will read and appreciate anything that breaks those “rules”.
The trick in writing is the same as for any artistic endeavor: you have to know what you want to achieve, and be in control of your medium. The more you attempt, the better you need to be. Otherwise, you’ll seem incomprehensible, irrelevant or (worst of all!) boring.
That said, I have to add my favorite quotation from programmer Alan Kay: “If you don’t fail at least 90 percent of the time, you’re not aiming high enough.” It’s not hard to come up with a good garage sale sign. A Faulkner-like exploration of “the human heart in conflict with itself”? Another critter entirely.
Garage sale signs don’t keep me up past midnight!
Always, always fun! Thanks for the comment.
Linda
Good evening Linda. I really liked this piece. Excellent. (How’s that for short and concise?) I’ve always thought that to be good at writing is to keep one eye on your audience and the other on your subject. Some subjects, such as instructional manuals, should follow every one of those assorted pieces of advice you’ve received. Essays and fiction… well, I wouldn’t read them if they were structured so simply. Reading for pleasure should exercise the mind and feed the soul.
Hi, JD,
As long as you’re keeping it short and concise, I much prefer “excellent” to “awful”!
Once again, I realize how important the move from “either/or” to “both/and” thinking can be. No matter what the arena, no matter what the specifics of the advice, trouble ensues when someone tries to apply one rule across the board. Even in my response to comments, I try and keep “one eye on the audience and one eye on the subject”. When I know that I’m responding to a child, or someone who speaks English as a second (or third, or fourth!) language, I write differently, and choose different words. It’s not meant to be patronizing at all – children or non-native speakers aren’t stupid, after all. It’s simply an acknowledgement that communication and understanding are what’s important.
And I like this: “Reading for pleasure should exercise the mind and feed the soul.”
Excellent!
Linda
I just wanted to thank you for your comment. I think I figured out how to do it. But, I also wanted to thank you because your comment couldn’t have come at a better time. I am going to be 23 and was crying because of the hiccups in life and all you said was that I have a lot of life to look forward to….and you are right. Thank you.
Hi, Ariella,
How nice of you to stop by! I’m glad you got your name linked to your blog. That will help.
Life is full of hiccups, for sure. One thing I’ve learned over the years is that as annoying, distressing, embarassing or just plain ridiculous as hiccups can be, they aren’t generally life-threatening. Hold your breath for a minute, or drink down a little glass full of fun, or beauty, or friendship, and they’ll be gone before you know it!
Happy birthday, again!
Linda
What fun! First, memory lane…we might have gone to the same school (with those weekly constant vocab quizzes!)and what a difference a diagrammed sentence made (at least in learning structure). And then, you had me chuckling and laughing over the “writing for dunces” bit and the limited tools and ingredients for painters and chefs…excellent stuff.
And thanks, Linda, for adding me to your blogroll!
Good morning, Oh,
I’ve felt like a regular little snoop, poking about into Becca’s blog, and yours, and some of the others.
I think that Write on Wednesday will have to be part of my life, one way or another. There’s so much wonderful writing there, and stimulating thought, too.
I did enjoy the “writing for dunces” part, and especially those little analogies: the painter, the gardener, the chef. When such thoughts pop fully-formed into my mind, I’m always a bit amazed – and I write them down quickly, before I forget!
Glad to hear that things have turned more regular-summery in STL, and that your projects are coming along nicely.
Linda
Ah, words. They have a mesmerizing effect on me. The opening words to Steinbeck’s “Of Mice and Men” transport me to the banks of the Salinas River and grip me with such an awareness of the beauty of language that it is almost painful.
Bring on the words! Specific words. Flashy words. Complex words. Simple words. Entertain, explain, persuade, provoke. Impart beauty, offer hope, expose evil, or change the hearts of men.
Words are nothing short of a miracle…
Good evening, teeveebee,
I had forgotten, and so I had to go take another look:
“A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas River drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green. The water is warm too, for it has slipped twinkling over the yellow sands in the sunlight before reaching the narrow pool…”
The flow is as smooth and easy as the river itself. It’s like watching Glenn Gould work his way through a Bach partita – it’s so easy, you’re just certain that you could do it! Painful beauty is a good phrase for it all.
And I especially like your comment that words are nothing short of a miracle. I’ve always loved the Gospel of St. John, and one reason is the wonderful proclamation of the “Word become flesh”. Quite apart from the theological issues involved, I’ve always taken that phrase as a perfect summation of the writer’s task – allowing words to flesh out meaning. Beyond that, there’s always the possibility that words themselves can live, giving perfect expression to a writer’s soul.
In that kind of world, of course, “Do as I say and not as I do” would make no sense whatsoever!
But that’s a discussion for another day, and a good thing to begin thinking about.
I’m just delighted to have you stop by, and I’ve enjoyed browsing through your entries. I need to start riding a bicycle again!
Linda
Ahhh Linda,
I wish we had been acquainted when I was in school and had to write, write, write. Writing can be a real chore for me, mostly because I tend to run at the mouth to say just a handful. I was working with a wonderful colleague at the time that had the writer’s gift, and I had her proof read everything I did. Slash, slash, slash and reword everywhere. When she was done, I’d read my work and say, “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant to say in 50 fewer words!”
Writing concisely is a gift, and making the words fluid is a treasure. It’s funny, because I am a voracious reader, and I KNOW good writing, and I keep thinking to myself, why isn’t any of this eloquent writing sinking into my brain?
Ahhh well, I guess I was just meant to be a reader, and I’ll take it, because like JD said earlier -
Reading for pleasure should exercise the mind and feed the soul. I’m well fed and exercised!
Hi, Karen,
It sounds like you and I have experienced the same thing – except mine arena for appreciation rather than production is music. While you’re happily playing the piano, I’m the one happily listening. I tried to be a musician, and worked at it from 3rd grade through my first year of college. It was always fun (well, except for those hours of practice) but it never flowed easily enough to give me the kind of pleasure that motivates more practice!
I still love music, and spend hours listening to it. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not going to be the one performing, unless you count a little singing and guitar playing here and there.
I had a musican tell me once that a critical and appreciative listener makes all those hours of practice worthwhile. The same is true with writing. Having folks around who read and respond make long, solitary hours at the keyboard worthwhile.
I’m glad you’re such a faithful reader!
Linda
Oh the irony, lol! Sometimes one must sacrifice the use of the exact right word that embodies the concept one wishes to convey… in order for communication to occur at all.
Good morning, LowerCal,
Absolutely true. On the other hand, once communication has taken place, it’s sometimes possible to circle back and give that exactly-right word a second chance.
That’s one of the reasons I’m such a fan of comments on blogs. I see them as an integral part of the process of discovering meaning – a way to clarify thought and push a bit more toward “getting it right”.
These little essays aren’t so much the treasure chest itself as they are notes tacked to the trees and rocks, saying “Treasure this way —>”. The only way to discover the nature of the treasure is to keep following the clues!
Thanks for making the trek over from your usual home!
Linda
and, of course, keepin a copy of E.B White’s amended, or Wm. Strunk’s original “Elements of Style” ‘at hand’ ain’t a
bad practice
Hey, Matt ~
Nothing like invoking the names of the masters! I must confess, though – William Zinsser (On Writing Well) and Annie Dillard (On Writing) have been my favs this year. The come at things quite differently, and have different concerns in their books, but both are wonderful – inspiring as well as helpful in a practical sense.
Good to see you! Hope all is well.
Linda
Linda, you made me start thinking. I used to think some put too much emphasis on language. The goal seemed to be to communicate quickly and efficiently, much like “the rules when writing for dunces”. I don’t know how much of that writing style was taught or how much of it I learned. My job has not helped either. Writing test procedures and design documents lends itself to “the rules when writing for dunces”( my head nodding as I recognized them without having ever seen them listed).
However, there is a time and place for boring technical writing, especially when your being paid to do it. Your analogies of limiting other professions and artists to basic building blocks was excellent. If one of the goals in writing is to transport the reader to a place or in the action then you definitely need more than basic building blocks. While my path is probably not in writing, I am motivated to start reading some good classic literature which I have ignored along the way. Thank you.
Good morning, aSigiam!
Thanks for making the point yet again – there are many ways to write, and each of them has a place. Technical writing doesn’t have to be boring, and “literary” writing can be so boring it makes me think of a soda-cracker sandwich (on white bread, hold the mayo!)
The trick is to figure out what you want (or need) to accomplish, and then find the best way to do it.
I was thinking about it last night, and found another analogy. If my purpose is to lull a baby to sleep, a simple song using the human voice as the only instrument is going to be far more appropriate than the New York Philharmonic. If we want a good performance of a symphony, a string quarter just isn’t going to do the trick.
When I went to school, they used to talk about “language arts”, and I’m beginning to understand why. There’s an art to choosing the right kind of language for a given task.
Thanks so much for your read, and thanks especially for the comment. You’re welcome to join the discussion anytime!
Linda
Those who give out advice on using short sentences and the least number of words to communicate have not considered that there are different GENRES of writing. No one style is applicable for all kinds of writing, for all kinds of readers, and for all kinds of reasons for reading.
Hi, Arti,
That’s the problem with hard-and-fast rules of all sorts. If they’re misapplied, problems ensue. And, of course, big words and long sentences can cause their own kind of problems. There have been more than a few blogs I’ve simply turned away from because there was no way to penetrate the prose. In those cases, a little pruning would have helped!
There’s never a problem like that with Ripple Effects – it’s always an enjoyable read! Thanks for taking a minute away from your own work to stop by and comment.
Linda
Thoughtful, relevant, and timely! Educational (and social!) standards in reading and writing are clearly in decline. I believe the happy medium between “short and stupid” and “long and complicated” is called “artfulness.”
Good morning, Joseph,
I’m so glad you stopped by, and enjoyed the read. Your comment is delightful. It reminds me of another word I haven’t thought of for a while – artifice, the very antithesis of artfulness.
As I mentioned, I’m looking forward to reading your entries on climate change, as well as those related to writing. Enjoy your art!
Linda
Brevity is my enemy.
And therefore I cannot just leave it at that sentence – although I wanted to – I liked the irony that would have created. But I am long-winded to a fault. I applaud your applause for more words written well.
I recently took a job writing for a website that requires posts to be 1,500 words MINUMUM! Ah heaven! Completely against the common trend online to make posts brief. This founder’s approach is brave in that he is of the opinion that if the topic and quality are useful/helpful/interesting to the reader, they will read along regardless of the length. Here’s hoping his site succeeds – and not just because I appreciate the paycheck, but because perhaps it will start a new trend.
Bumbles,
Oh, am I laughing! You’re right – the first sentence alone would have been lovely, but what you added was terrifically interesting. The fact that someone is dedicating his site to longer pieces is wonderful. I’ve sometimes thought much blog brevity is related to that little piece of bloggy “wisdom” – that we must post every day to build readership. It’s a slippery slope – whoever demands daily posting of herself soon will be tempted toward BlogThings, bad videos, TMZ links and earnest analyses of the latest political gaffe. More content, less creativity is never a good thing.
I saw a few links and such on your site – I’ll come prowling around and see what you’re up to. Every time I think I’ve found the most interesting site ever, I find another, and then another, and then….
Thanks for stopping by!
Linda
Hmmmmm, how did I let this one get away? Anyway, you know me and words….can’t write them, but I can read them good! LOL
I’ve always been a good speller, and not really sure why. Probably just a good memory, as I’ve been trained in enough language skills to know that our grammar/spelling rules don’t always apply.
I like to find tricks to spelling words too. Like Connecticut. I tell the kids – it’s this! Connect~I cut! The difference between desert and dessert – is – dessert has two s’s, because you always want more!
I know there are more – but brain is done for today! Thanks for the good read!
Karen,
We can’t forget “M-I-crooked-letter-crooked-letter-I-crooked-letter-crooked-letter-I-pee-pee-I”! My gosh. I haven’t thought of that in years.
You may have missed the great exchange about prefixed words recently. Bogon brought up “importunate” and the fact that there’s no such thing as “portunate”. As he said, that’s just not RIGHT!
I thought about it and remembered “discombobulate”. As I told him, outside of the Urban Dictionary there’s no “combobulation” goin’ on out there, however gruntled that might make you. The sung heros of the language might call it ruly behavior, but it’s a peccable truth that English is a crazy language!
That was almost as much fun as the alliter-off we had a couple of years ago. It started with sly and sneaky Sisyphus sailing away to slay the sea-faring serpent, and by the time GardenGrrl got done with it, we had paragraphs of the stuff!
Glad you stopped by and reminded me of all that – quite appropriate for Poetry Month!
Linda
When I read your “assorted bits of advice”, I started to worry. Writing for dunces?
The next paragraph (painter, gardener, chef) is a gem. My anxiety was disarmed, my faith in your good sense vindicated.
Thanks for mentioning sentence diagramming. I was both gratified and dismayed.
In junior high school I was taught to diagram sentences. We students all dreaded it. Next to conjugating verbs it was the most daunting task our grammar teachers assigned. Now, after more than four decades, I have forgotten how it worked. Your linkage gave me a chance to refresh my memory.
The basic subject/verb/object structure looks plausible, but I can’t picture how we handled adjectives, adverbs, prepositions, infinitives, compound sentences etc. Maybe it was exactly the same as the examples on the web page. The scheme presented at commnet.edu does not ring any bells.
Part of the problem is surely that my language learning curve did not end in junior high, nor did it stop with English. I’ve spent a lot of time (too much, maybe) looking at computer languages. So when I see the word ‘not’ lumped with other verb modifiers, the diagram hardly seems satisfactory. Negation should somehow invert the whole predicate. I have to remind myself that sentence diagramming is a purely syntactic exercise. Logical or not, each word must be parsed according to its role, not its meaning.
If natural languages were entirely logical, poetry would be a sorry affair indeed. Poetry is another one of those lessons that came later. In poetry the focus is on meaning. Sounds, imagery and the meta-semantics of blended words and rhythm — good luck trying to diagram that!
Ha, the peculiar progression of English instruction: first they teach you the rules, then they show you how to break them. The ultimate lesson is about how futile it would be to attempt enforcement of rules. Knowing that is not a shortcut, however. The student can’t skip ahead. As you say, English is a crazy language!
Bogon,
What a delight that you stopped by – you certainly brought a unique perspective to all of this!
I’ve never thought what it would be like to “diagram” a programming language. Maybe that’s an impossibility. It certainly raises some interesting questions. “What is language?” is a good starting point. And of course, the structures of human languages can differ from one another as much as human language differs from that of the computer.
I had to laugh at your observations about first learning the rules and then breaking them. It was quite a shock to me to discover that with html, if you break the rules, you don’t get something that’s 50% right. You don’t get anything. The hours I spent combing through even tiny snippets of code, trying to figure out why this was the wrong color or that the wrong size – my goodness. Eventually, I learned the tags, learned where to start looking and – perhaps most importantly – learned to slow down. Details, details.
Interesting points about the sounds and imagery of poetry, too. I wonder where we’d diagram the tintinabulation of the bells, bells, bells!?
Linda
I think with computer languages you typically start with a diagram. Actual productions of the language — utterances, if you will — come later.
Now that I think about it, that makes sense. Computer languages are “built” by people. You don’t build a computer and then sit around with a camera, waiting to record the moment of its first “word”. At least, that’s how I imagine it.