Many see artful writing as the special domain of a lucky or gifted few. On the contrary, it remains quite mechanical, and not nearly as "creative" as one might suppose. George Orwell's advice, in one of his better essays, can reduce to these standardized gems to make your literary efforts shine.
Here, I aim to lend a boost to your writing skills fast. But first I must introduce you to an odd sort of person, whom I call, “Homo Graphicus,” and he stars in a very popular fib dubbed the “Myth of the Great Writer.”
What does he do? He sits far back in the recesses of your mind, whittling away at another masterpiece. For, you see, he flawlessly crafts only the finest specimens of the literary art, and he does so day-in and day-out. No piles of crumpled paper wads litter his desk or the floor, and he doesn’t DO erasers. He simply presses the “insight” button, absorbs the inspired notion, and, with a flick of the wrist, returns to churning out his next scripted champion.
Now, the good news for those of us with all the creative finesse of peet moss is this: this man does not exist. There are no great writers. The world knows only great rewriters. The way to produce a fine piece of writing comes by outlining briefly what you wish to say, filling out the floor plan with a few data from your research, and then by sifting carefully through the first draft many times – systematically. Just follow the rules, step-by-step.
By filtering the unruly items from your draft (with these rules), and replacing them with the beloved features of good writing, you can ably sculpt your own excellent writing samples. Here, you take your very rough draft – and some will prove rougher than others – and purge from it all the dross in a step-by-step fashion, with rules simple enough for clever pets to follow. Even Cocoa could do this.
The first rule, we can say this way: prefer concrete nouns to the abstract.
By “concrete” I mean that you should employ the kinds of nouns we can all see, taste, smell, hear and see. This would include peanut butter, cars, frying pans, and DVD’s. Abstract nouns, on the other hand, insist on playing hide-and-seek from our five senses. Most of the badly overused ones end in “-tion.” These include words like marginalization, utilization, and transportation. Good rewriters will make every effort to paint pictures, so to speak, in the minds of their readers. Do not simply tell them, SHOW them.
Now be assured that no one has the foggiest idea what “marginalization” looks like, but we all know a marshmallow when we see one. Paint vivid, lustrous – even golden – pictures in your readers’ minds. Use images that drip honey. So replace the do-nothing abstract nouns in your draft with smoldering wicks, chandeliers of fiery brass, and shimmering scarlet wine (preferably California Cabernets).
Moving on to rule number two, we encourage good rewriters to supplant verb forms of “to be” (e.g. was, were, are, am, will be) with active verbs. Adorn your draft with highly-caffeinated words that careen, thunder, swoop, roar, derail and dance. Comatose words like “is” barely manage to register a heartbeat as verbs. They portray nothing at all. Some politicians, it is rumored, do not even know what the meaning of “is” really is. Yet, who can blame them for wanting to defrock such a flimsy and haggard word? As a good rewriter, you must convict and impeach these lackluster, worthless, and dull-witted imposters – meaning, of course, lazy verbs – not the politicians.
Under the rubric of rule three, good rewriting will insist that you vary your word choices. Do not employ the same words too often. This means you must scan the draft to spy out the repeat offenders, so you can give their space to an underemployed synonym. You can plunder any good thesaurus to get these. Variety remains THE spice central to good writing, so spice it up.
Rule number four for good rewriting warns us to keep it short and snappy. You might wish to refer to "Ockham's Razor" at this point. It benefits writers to apply its wisdom to their craft.
Take a step back form your paper for a moment to clean it up now. Go ahead and give your draft a clean shave, and take a little off the top. Trimming from your draft excess words, phrases, and perhaps even sentences, will ensure clear writing that gets right to the point. If your sentence says it in twenty words, find a way to say it in, maybe, fifteen. But watch out for nicks and cuts. Never toss out any important ideas or words essential to your writing task. Yet, when it doubt, throw it out – or at the least – give it a fair snipping to keep it lean.
Finally, rule number five bids good rewriters juggle their sentence lengths. The longer way to say this more accurately is "vary your syntax," but since this does not help many people, I just say it here, "Mix it up." If your first sentence spans only a few words, follow this with an extended one. Then chase that one with a mid-length sentence. This creates an almost enchanting, writing “flow”– where your readers wonder what will follow next. This subtle variety in your writing style draws the reader in, and keeps her coming back. And we know that keeping readers interested remains the best way to keep them.
To these you should add the following:
6. Prefer Anglo-Saxon words to Greek or Latin. Generally, the Anglo-Saxon words are the ones with harsher sounds in them, or which end abruptly -- like sticks, mud, burp, clobber, and bilk. My favorite one is "mulch." These tend to be short and sweet. The English language consists of about 30% Greek- and 40% Latin-based terms, so native English speakers will naturally tend to overuse them at the first. This means you overuse them already. Don't say "obfuscated," but say "foggy" instead. This will clean up your writing, and give it a visual finesse at the same time.
7. Avoid the use of slang terms. Resist the urge to pen the phrase "pimp your ride," instead opting for the phrase "improve your status," "get a better car," "dress more fashionably" or whatever it is you more exactly intend to say. By definition, not everyone knows what the slang expression means, and it will annoy some readers, who find it base or substandard.
8. Prefer the active voice to the passive. Say who performed the action mentioned in a sentence, not merely that the action was performed. Write, "John threw the ball to Charissa," not "The ball was thrown." Readers wish to "see" in their mind's eye the actors doing the performing in the mental "movie" you show them. It will hardly do to have a movie with no actors.
9. Avoid the use of overemployed and trite expressions. You know the ones I mean; they have to do with too many cooks spoiling an otherwise tasty soup base, and the worst of them have been made into songs, like "Que Sera Sera," and other ear-abusive melodies. In other words, avoid cliches like that well-known, fourteenth-century, European epidemic. Said differently, use original expressions, or at the least, ordinary language that does not appear the work of a lazy mind. And never, ever say, "No pain, no gain," or any other phrase emanating from the lips of sportscasters. The news anchors who host the sports highlights, however, offer outstanding verbs. Watch these guys and take notes to jumpstart your active verbs list.
10. Finally, keep it lively by any and all means, including those listed above, and any other way you might find to accomplish this on your own.
For instance, you will want to grab a nearby thesaurus and compile a least of luminous nouns and hyperactive verbs to bedazzle your readers. Good rewriting (it does not matter if your rough draft looks goofier than cat pizza) can fix almost any substandard writing sample. This may also include the rule, "Avoid using contractions," which I both affirm and regularly transgress. There seem to be times in each case where these rules are better served granting exceptions. But which and when I must leave to the reader and budding writer's discretion. This will prove more a question of style than of substance. So, if one follows these rules in an unrelenting fashion, great writing will result. But it may seem a tad "formal" or mechanical. Thus, I advise to think of these as more like "guidelines" than an absolute code, for which I have no chapter and verse in the Bible.
I do know from experience, however, that they work to yield a harvest of writings people love to read, and which obtain much higher grades in college and graduate studies.
And the results -- if you rewrite it many times -- can prove utterly thrilling. You won't believe that YOU could have done THAT. But if you wish, you can and will.
Practically, this means you ought to do all that you can to use words which paint visual and lustrous pictures, meals on a table that your readers can taste. Hockey pucks must ricochet, glance, and careen. Wine glasses must shimmer, sparkle and radiate the crimson hues of their host. Smiles must beam, sunlight must overpower the parched trees, and moonlight must dance. If the moonlight will not dance, then do not include it in YOUR prose. Moonlight should know better by now. And the wind must whisper. Tires may screech, thunder must clap and roll, and dolphins must hurl themselves into the air, soaring for a breath's moment above their watery home - as dolphins are wont to do.
The Proverbs of Solomon (and company) present a great place to start plundering for excellent nouns and verbs. Now there is a man who knows how to write. He employs the most sensuous language one might, to engage readers and hold fast their attention. Write as he does, and your product will be as "apples of gold in settings of silver." THAT is picture-painting with words.
Now these rules work very well and can improve your writing immensely, almost at once, but only if you put them to use. Now all has been heard, here is the conclusion of the matter: Follow the rules, rewrite well, and have fun with it. And remember always to find a way to use the noun (or verb), "Mulch." There must be mulching. Someone must (absolutely) mulch something. It's Anglo-Saxon, and it's a winner.
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