Writing Short

This is writing short. Some call it “removing the fluff” or “stripping the words.” But I call it writing short. Two words do the trick. 

When we write our essays, whether it be creative fiction, a lab report, or a writing center blog post, asking ourselves the questions about our writing’s essence should be at the forefront of our mind. Making our writing lean makes it clear and understandable. My first sentence might read:

“In this blog post I will be discussing how to write short.”

Or it might read: 

“This is writing short.”

Now, I get it, we’ve all got word counts (even me!) so it’s easier to write with lots of words like this to get the same point across that I could’ve written in just a few words. And it’s scary when words disappear and word counts get farther away. We then must write and sit longer. Committing to writing short is committing to more time.

Writing short is useful. Not many people like reading. Bosses like quick briefs they can read in-between meetings. And the professors grading our papers like when they can get to the point. Writing short is a courtesy. It’s so that our audience has an easier time. It’s not for us. 

I think of when I didn’t write short. When I used big words like “abhorred” and “sesquipedalian.” I must admit, I Googled that second word. And the article I clicked on was titled “13 fancy words to use to boggle people’s minds.” The keyword being “boggle.” Most don’t like being “boggled.” I like understanding small words and painting big pictures in my head of complex, straightforward ideas. 

Small words are beautiful. They’re familiar. They’re the ones we speak with, and that babies blurt in their early years. It’s good for us—the writers—that small words paint the same sized pictures. 

I might say that something is marvelous or I might say it is grand. And yet, these two words feel different. A marvelous chandelier might be more ornate and dazzling than a grand one. But writing short does not take away the agency of diction. Rather, it prods us to fine tune what we mean. Is the chandelier really that much more magnificent than it is grand? Could we make it so?

Writing short means focusing on syntax: our sentence structure. Even though I write many short words in a big order it still might be clearer with a change of syntax. Stop. Let’s rephrase that one. “Even though I write many short words in a big order, it still might be clearer with a change of syntax.” Here I added a comma. I told you to stop, take a moment, and keep reading. Think of when we run marathons—we take breaks. We must allow our reader to pause when we write, too. Syntax is our way of saying “STOP! Understand what I say, and don’t run away from me!”

So there it is. Syntax and diction and writing short. Do with it what you will. 

P.S. 

I recommend re-reading your papers and looking at each sentence. Strip it down to its core. It’ll be harder. But you’ll find room for more ideas. Your ideas. 

Stuart Holton