Writing with ,StYle

on theArt of Writing
Conversations
SecondEdition

JohnR' Trimble
The (JniaersitYof Texasat Austin

New ]ersev 07458

PnrNrtcn Helr-, Upper Saddle River'
 7
a__-\-,

ThinkingWell

The indispensable characteristic of a good uriter is a style

ma*edby lucidity.
-ErnestHemirg* y

Andhous is clarity to be achieoed? Mainly bg takingtrou-

ble; andbg uritingto sensepeople rather than to im,press
them.
-F.L. Lucas

I ach profession, it would seem, has its own style of thought that must
I ' , 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-ou
name 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. {nd
it does.
\itrhat a nor.ice needs more than anything, then, is to plug into the
brain 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 Stidirrs
instinct, wrifing nill remain all hit-or-miss-a frustrating repetition of trial
and error, orer and orer again.
 4 Fundamentah

chessplayerfacesmanyof the sameproblems.Lacking

any lcnd ot "chesssense," playerscal it, he sitsbewiliered
^-..,*1rb^""q.1ning
at the board]
movinglirst a pawr1then.a{ bfuhop,then_why not?_his
q"""", Af at ran_
hopllg that somethi"ggoid *ill come of it but knowine
9o-' -of"luck. that if it
piece He hasno ideail ,;;;;:d pJayers
.ptl, *::: l1l P: ," T*"
rnlnk at the board.Even sitting acrossfrom them, he cannot
fathom what
g/ thel"re tryingto accomplishwith apartieular move,what brundersthey're
trying to avoid,what alternategamesbalegre-s they might be considejng.
He can certainlyappreciate*" tt e u"t""f-tho"ghifro""r, i,
a mystery. "ff"r*,Urit
Unfortunately,the grandmastershavemadeit far easier
for a novice
to acquirechesssensethan autlors havemadeit for him
to acquireits rit-
erary e-quivalent.They've published book after book
explaini'nehow to
think chess-what opening-gambitsto cmsider, *#;";;;*t,u?m
*o.r.
y,"l\ yh"l endgametacticsto use.Authorsof uriUng t""tr, o'ih" oth*
hand,tend to stressmechanics, perh4o assuningthafpeopleeither know
how to think or they don't.
repairthat
,r_^_-],_n_"ry,,o
rnroughoutthe book,is to :"$."L {ychief aim"both in this chapterand
help10u derdop'writer's sense."youil {ind it
as in&spensableasradar to a pilot- ru besn by erylaining
ho* u ,ro'i""
rTt:r vpi".,+/ thinks so that when I morc-m ,t *i,t^" hlw the veteran
rrunl$, you'll havea more vivid senseofttecontrast

Ihel{orftn

Most of the novice'sdifficuftoe$cart with ttre simple fact

that the
paper he writes on is mute. Becauseit mrrer talks back'to
him, and be-
causehe'sconcentratingsohard m gmaring ideas,
he r"uaity-iorg"tr-
unlike the veteran-that anotherhr#,o', r*t"i*u *rt,rdry Lrtrying to
makesenseof what hes saying-The reo[? His"ndurartendericy
asi u;*ter
* n thmk prtT*dly of hunsety-ar* b torite prhnartly
for htksety.
--'' n"r",
in a nutshell'lies the ulumateneas* fw most'bad*riiii.g."
, He isn't awareof his egooffiim" of course,but aYlthe symptoms
of his root problem are ther!, b rlinl* th;;h ;;;i* nu
""i'r"tf

o Paul Burka,
a Nationar tvt,agaztre"H-winning journalist and executiveeditor
of TexasMonthlq, told one of my rt-dJ#"tir[g
self-indulgence.; "r"'"s-, a writer has to do is curb his
 Thi,nkingWell

passablyclear to him, since, for his purposes, it needn't be any clearer; he

dispenseswith transitions becauseit's enough thathe knows how his ideas
connect; he uses a private system-or no system-of punctuation; he
doesn't trouble to deftne his terms becausehe understands perfectly well
w
what he means by them; he writes page after page without bothering to vary
his sentencestructure; he leavesoffpage numbers and footnotes; he para-
graphs onlywhen the mood strikes him; he ends abruptlywhen he decides
he'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 fails
repeaiedly as a writer. Actually, he's not writing at all; he's merely com-
muning privatelywith himself-that is, hek simplyputting thoughts down
on paPer.
I call this "unconsciouswriting." The unconsciouswriter is like a per-
son who turns his chair away from his listener, mumbles at length to the
wall, and then heads for home without a backward glance.
Basically, all it takes to begin moving from unconscious writing to
genuine writing is a few moments' reflection on what the writing/reading
process ideally involves. Think about it. What it involves is one person
earnestly attempting to communicate with another. Implicitly, then, it in-
volves the reader as much as the writer, sincethe successof the com'mani-
cation d,ependssolely onhous the reod.erreceioesit. Also, since more than
one person is involved, and since all of us have feelings , it has to be as sub-
ject to thn basi,cdes of good manners as any other humnn relati'onshlp. The
writer who is fully aware of these imphcations-the conscious vnifsl-1s-
semblesa person who companionably facesher listener and tries her level
best to communicate with him, even persuade and charm him in the
process, and who eventually bids him the equivalent of a genial farewell.
The big breakthrough for the novice writer, then, will occur at the
moment he begins to comprehend the. ttri"l iipli""Tns of what he's
doing. 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 vears
away in time. This breakthrough parallels an infant's darvning realization
that aworld exists beyond himself.
Achnlh', since the novice is as much a self-oriented nerrcomer to
his 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, for
example, after reabzing thet a rvorld-a reader---sisis qrt there beyond
 6 Fundamzntals

himself, slowly comes to,develop,

first, an awarenessof himself
readers vantage point (objecti"i;;;,' from the
nativeryi,tr'*?i"a.r;;:;';;#(;;;:;;f:::yr,,1;lr:
;;*;""
the reader'srights f""Itog. i;;;;r)
.of you can seethai
",rd
writer is essentiallyretracing, the
in"a o.* the,s,a1e_
he traveledasa chird'u*" "orr*o, psycn_ ;Jffi
3.1"i;"#;:r*parabre. Havingpassedthe
laststageof courtesvas
3 "hild, nr*uJJ,'.
son:socialsensitivitv.wri*n"'p;r;.;e mark of a truly p"r_
stage asawrite4 "Trili".d
the mark of a truly civil".a he achieves
.lr"tfle style.
"iir"

The l"eteran
The thinhng processof a skilledqriter
reflectshow sheconceivesthe
f*il"1.,il1ff;.?:jil::t"T"".u,:i*.i.pingarearisticu,,
All writing is communication-
But mostuniting hopesto go further.
It hopesto makethe rearrer.";;;ffi
nodsof assent,stabsofp"thor, u'ays-with preasedsm'es,
or;r;;#
say'g"""tull1' tn"t *rff:rg
,or"ot"#"Yri.can i-sthe art of creating cle-
Now for an essaywrite4the
chiefdesiredeffectis persuasion.
poseyou are that writer. your-ant r*. Sup_
ideasandyou, their .o,r.""' ).*;;;;;;;; *"*'J; ,.",
ih"ilr.r#
soundandinterestingand,"t*tt-rJilo #, ttrem to ,,,iewyour i-deasas
panionable'(AIrof thlse things. informe* direct,andcom_
persuadethem to accept^you,"f'*,n*-; desired effects.)If youdon.t
it,s doubtful that
p,inJi"g.iiffi# peopre -r,ou,llpersuadethem to
llll5, nl:J," *" rik"and
trusr_
The big question'then, is hcnubmin
readers?Here are four essentials:
I' Havesomethingto saythars
sorth their attention.
* tu
'' ff;:l' ""Iatrv"iafr#-*.iT^errso voucanpitchit withcon-
3. Furnish strong arguments
tht are rrell supported
su withconcrete
4. Use anguage--ri.gorous proof.
"."fia""i[r"i*":1|flTT" r-erbs,strong nouns,and as^sertive
phrasing.

While that looks l;ke a preqr.firII

recipe for successfulwriting
E'en ifwe excruderhr.t it isn.t.
"tthro;-;;rft;r sti'missing-and armost
 ThinkingWeII

alwaysis. The ultimate way we win readers is by courteously sen:ingthem-

well
that i, satisSringtheir needs. An experienced writer knows that to serve
is to sell weil; to sell wel iJ to serve well. T]_rey are complementary
"["ally,
activities. The means are inseparable from the ends'
The writer, for all practLal puryoses' does not exist without the as-
fact
sent of his readers, *ho i,^rreth" po*"t to shut him off at whim' This
of life makes pleasing them absolutely critical. But that's only fair. If w-e're
going to usk ih"* to"give us their time and attention, then we're inthei,r
kind-
tebtl.rot the other wiy around; we must be prepared to repay their
ness with kindness olour own. Beyond pleasing them simply to square
debts and keep them reading, though, there's also the practical necessityr
re-
of pleasing them in order to-persnade tlem. Samuel Butler longago
"iV" ur" not won by arguments that we can analyze' but-by tone
*"rk"d,
agree
and temper, by the manner which is the man himself." I don't wholly
close to the truth. A pleasing manner surely
with th;, brri itt certainly
them
makes one'sarguments themselvesseem pleasing becauseit dresses
in an aura ofreasonableness.
but
All of us, I think, graspthese facts of life perfectlywell asreaders,
?otg"t them as writers. Being unconsciously self-
most of us manage to
oriented, we thinf,itt simply to lay out our ideas. Experience keeps
"no'lgh *ill always lnsist on having their needs
airpr.rl"g us, though. Reiders
f"rLa ur th"y"h"rr" every right to, and if we're heedless, theyll say
"Enough "fr?,, our piece aside'^
of you" and toss -
Ifo*, th"tt, do you ,"*" yo," t"ader? First, you must cultivate a psy-
wins you
chological sense. That is, you must sensitize y-ourself to what,
respond, and what makes you f-eelwell
orr"r-]ho* andwhy you ;erv,ed-
in-
and gradually learnt6 extend that awarenessto your reader.This book,
Afy, tL good a place as any to start-sensitizing yourself. As you read
"ta.i "Is his style
y* orrgh"tto be askingyoutself such questions as these:
"l*g, *hyl"
too implex io be readable',"or too plain, or is it just right-an$
does he achieve it? Do I like ii or don't I?"
-What iihi" to.r", and how
.lA/hy here instead of a period?" "Do I like this two-
dcs he use a semicolon
..what effect do his contractions have on me?" A
,"oalo* paragraph?,,
he
writer eager to improve his psychological sense never simply reads;
always alert to the manner as well as the mes-
reads crif,a\-- Hirrnind is
s-orls' plus
r"j., f". onhrin this u-ay will he Iearn y-hlt.works and whv it
*fiat doesni fiork and **rv it doesn't. He's like one musician listeningto
another. What's special he'll imitate and make
the chor& aDdphlPdngof
his own.
 I Fundnm.entals

Once you acquire the habit of re".rling

attentively, you,ll find that
vourpsychorogicar sense*ill i-pro.,,. rhdi, ;#;itirt,"r:|,
sense' too' This wit have
an
tactical
immldiate l-p""t
not only on the effective_
butonv*
"*i*J'toialdir* *Lri-v"";ri discove
:"r",*","r,i#;':li,frJHJr:;tt&l*
ffi|:ffi[T#"*
ly considerate'you"eaders';*H,
ing.And it will grve.you
f #;*
9wn,wit dominat!vourthink-
gl"r"*,,rro,rdir"kly t""r' to enjoytfie senseof
communion,the fellow_feelTg
it bringsir ; i,il-f,i"",,lr,i",rr,
. with-otherbTmao -*"..,r,r-r
uJ"r, O","
beings.
tnrs brings^me
-uch to the secondn1_. Juy of serving
A -f.-f,T:F,_l?:y:
:_^ schooling
_ t, ii your read_
ers: vourserf tobe otrerc.toid v."r,1i"
readers. vouacti...ely.tt
*f. .i,il_I;#'"ry ""i"?Jrla y"",
them.youtrv to intuit,r,"or**]iil"*"io withthem,empathize with
their convenience' not your ro*r"rto itiili'J*uy, or
own- yqr
o".ian"- exactly asyou wouid wish
tobetreated,
withgenuine
**ia"",il*r-,ilHffir{*lri"
**'',ii:?JlJ';j1.","':"0*=,.G"g;_*,;;;;Z; u*n
add
_,, *"*i",r,"i,i :rf;*::ff#nffi;:k.."^$.i*X
t* re_adthem' note how trr"y
"ppl-n *o*oo aswell astJ wriung,
$ -E
l. PhraseyourthoSqh*clearly
t solw,re eas',to follow.
\ 2' speaktothepointsoyoudmtG-readers'time.
s 3' AnticipaterTt:
S T*o:* o*G-Lao"",
4. offerthemvarieryana*a*ffiL"t*.t. fatigue,irritarion).
\r "5. Talkto&em u*t-' openm*Frtutrad
; #;:;i.tn ofpontiftcaring to themlike
$"
N
\ AlthoughI,ll be foJlowingrp-onallrlresepoints
Iike to expandhrt" on #r, in later chapters,I,d
the"t il#ay, and #3, the need io antici_
pateyour readers,responses.
concretelyth" tr, "rtrG me a chanceto explainmore
*a *t"*-drlt processesof a skinedwriter.
"rr,r.npiionr
, phrase yourttqLb
Clearty
A prosestvle mayb^e^eloquenq
|,,r.ri1l,witty, rhythmical, and fresh
Montanaair' bui if it lacraa^ri as
l, fu'reailrs *i'staywith it for rong.
as no one enioysloohng at Just
a vim, h*'r;r rp"ctacular,througha mud_
,'o one enloyshrning-iJu
;I*: ry-pt o.,y of word-,reduced
#,ljo*,
 ThinkingWell I

Hemingway was right: clarity is the indispensable characteristic of

good prose. It's the {irst thing a reader demands, and perhaps the hardest
thing to deliver. Not only must the indMdual thoughts be clear bul even ff
more challenging, they must follow a logical sequence. Since the average l/
human mind isn't accustomed to thinking systematically, trying to write
clear 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. !r-*
And it's greatly accelerated by imitating the techniques and attitudes of
I
experts. Clear writers, for instance, vary widely in native intelligence, but
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 she
is, after all, a perfect stranger to their garden ofingenious ideas. In fact, to
her, that garden may initially resemble a tangled thicket, if not a tropical
rain forest. This being so, theirjob aswriter is to guide her through, step by
step, 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'sheaded. The writer's Golden Rule is the same as the
moralist'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-nor
so 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 $ho nlrim from
the reader an effort to understand 1[sir me*ning. Tou bare onlv
to go to the great philosophers to see '' -+ it is possible to eryress
with lucidi$' the most subtle reflections- Ym man fmd it &fficult
to understand the thought of Hume, andif 1m hrc no $ilo-
sophical training its implications will dmbdess escrye yuu hrt
no one with any education at all can fail t udertud ffacrly
what tle meaning of each sentence is.

o They have accepted the grim reality that nine-tentls of all writing is
rewriting . .
 Fundnnentals

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

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

The idea that historieswhich are delightful to read must be the work of
superficialtemperaments, and that a crabbedsrylebetokensa deep
thinker or conscientious worker,is the rer-erseof the truth. What is easyto
read hasbeen dif{icult to write. The labor of writing and rewriting, cor-
recting and recorrecting,is ttre due eractedby everygood book from its
author. . The easilyflowing connectionof sentencewith sentenceand
"ah.a.s
paragraphwith paragraphhas beenrn'onby the sweatof the brow.

And now novelist JamesA. Michenen

I havenever thought of myselfasa goodnriter. Anyonewho wantsreas-

suranceof that shouldreadoneof mr-first dnafu.But I'm one of the
worldt greatestrewriters.

And finally E.B. White, perhaps America's most respected 20th-

century essayist,whose consistentlr"gracefrrlsh,le entitles him to have the
last word:

The main thing I try to do is trite as&arh- as I can. BecauseI havethe

greatestr".p""t for the reader,andifhei gomgto ttre trouble of reading
what I've written-I'm a slowreadermself and I guessmostpeople
are-why, the least I can do is makeit aseasr aspJssiblefor him L {ind
out what I'm trying to say,trying to get at. I ier.titr a good deal to make
it 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 any
feedback 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

looking
many different readers-just as an experienced TV newscaster'
intoihe camerak unwinking eye, actively imagines a viewer'
will de-
The hnd of r"ud", (o.i"aders) that a shlled writer imagines
of
on the occasion,tlt" rypg Piece he's writing' and other
p"rrd, of
'.rrch "oorse, whatever the occasion,he'll assumethe reader has a zil-
ia"tors. But
lior irrteresting things to do with her time, is readingat a fast clip, and
is to
is iust wa.l'tlngfo, oi u*irn to tune out' The writer's challenge' then'
-or.
challenge is to make her quite
arioid giving filr that excuse'The supreme
forgetlhe other things she wanted to do'
"
Ho* does the-writer meet these challenges? Chiefly by empathy'
forth from
The whole time he'swriting, he's constantly switching back and
player, he makes a dozen men-
his own mind to hers. Like-a shlled chess
them he tests as to the probable re-
tal moves for every actual one. Each of
s learned, is the name of the game' If
,fonr" it will elicit. Anticipation, he
fair chance of controlling it' So every
li" anticipate r"rponr", he has a
"un "
sentence-ye s, e1)erysentence-receives a battery of challenges:

o ..AmI droninghere?Is shereadyto silenceme?Is there arrywayI canlight-

en this up?"
. "Ho* I get her to see-tofeel-the ur-gencyof this point?' ^--
""it
o "Is the continuity si\ here, oi It f"tigrr" blinding me to a bump?"
. "Might ,h" *"1*1y1" L analoglhere, ot is this abstractideaclearenough
on its own?"
r "Am I treatingher asif shewere an idiot?'
o "Is *iere any conceivableway this sentencemight confuseher?"
r 'Have I jusi usedanyof thesewordsin previoussentences?"
. .will thisphrasestrikeher aspretentious? And,honestly,amI usingit to im-
pressher,'oris this the only way I.ca1gxPressthe thoughtcleanly?"
. iwi[ sheget the nuance]rere, or had I better spell it out?"
o "Can the p*p on me for verbosityhere?"
o .will sheirear a stronglyconversational,living voice comingthrough, or am
I beginningto soundlike a book?"

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

": ,
left him sinking under
all too well encountering whaleJike paragraphs that I
e1e bounc- I
theirweigbt, not to menltionthose miniparagraphs thal \ad,his
knoss" has Se
ing down"thepage' Too much or too little ln a paragraph" he
the cmtinuity be-
same effech it wears the reader out. He also watches
t*"""p"*g"'et'..Istheconnectionsolid?,'heaslahinse|f.-Willmy
of,-m.vargument?
reader want an eren stuldier bridge between these lnrts
can feel disoriented hereF
t ,tt"r" any conceirable
-an'she
 t2 Fundnmentals

And so on, and so on. Wfitin-g

ing and empathizing--cven yell is a long exercisein second_zuess
a hnd"of .rorr-o*rot", serf-induced
It puts a premium o" r""i"l parinoia.
r"*iti'ity, ;.;""* and goodwit. It is, in short,
averycomplicated business.Bu' h{; _r;;;
fully challensi'e'R"**dirg, il; ffi,;il"r_
"h,"-;;;
genuinery
with anotheipeison, :";
,rhe' yo,.',r"pro,r"dt communicate
"r#i,il"
andwhenthewholelearningeryeri"o"" ler toaccepta newviewpoint,
t* i""n fun for he. becauJe
madeitfun forher,t'"tt a"ffii1liffig--rr"u, v.,u
it'sexhilarating.

SomeConduding Ttoughts
I' Mumbo-iumboisanotherqmrdfogrunts
ofthe mind. Mumbo
what comesout in {irst uoa iumbois
yo,r,r" *riu"g!"ri""lfy
o, ""-od"doft.-*h"o
tofathom
what_you
?;"If^,:(#J!". "a""-;_,,,",fr..fr.g think
2. Onceyou'vet"trl:q *qF
frryounetf andbeginwritin gfor
en your mumbojumbo *il theread_
ut t r._g ioa noo" lide prose_i.e.,
tencesthat makesense. serr_
3. If your readercant getyo-mfrll
miqg in a singlereading,however_
and,a singlereadingb'! Jn;;;
that I,ou,reafflicted"with must lbce up to the facr
; nJ;i#bo jumbo.
bestremedypsh""* ;ffi;;
!. ?!. se,Eerrces.
5' \\4ren 1'ouffr"ttu ttri"l pr'*;;;"ff
the eyesof the a'e.age,*a*lr-_ffi* rcreadit twic€,ffrst throush
throughthe eyes obscurities) ,e"oid
".rd
This
"fy;G*rrl;.;otherlapses).
havea nicely ct itu"! tendsto
* ffirffi;a underthought prose.
6. Asalastcaution, "r*
r"a",n" g"*-JJffifrt.
at it again-you're bourd Then,inthemorning, eo
or"*-JJ"*** outrook.Also,do as tf,e
professionalauth., d".,
"I'm interestedt" r""hC "4t;#;;" friends.Tell them,
qFdigirql;;' "r"did
not
it. As reinforcement,it iigtrh+-;fi;;l'd approved,r_andmean
them a remark George you, fri"ods if you quote
fi;fsh.*f,'"11_"a" to the actressEIIen
Terry.MissTerrvhadtnf.*ed;;ffi";
of a ptayhe hudr"r,t h., to defacethe manuscripts
tffi*.';;;." backto her,
Oh, botherthe MSS.,martthem
asmuch asyou like: what else
are they for? Mark errer;dftg;il*il;u.
thing 49 rimes;bur ifjur I may considera
dilr.;, ffiii be considered50
times;and a line 50 ri.r.es.o.-a"r"i
i, 2 p"r ce.rtbetterthan a
line 49 times
"orrrid.ril,r dli'.ri"'iri#, p* cent that
makesthe diff"."o"" betw"o .r"Ul#l"a mediocrity.