Among the most gratifying things about writing these columns: my correspondence with generous readers.
Generous because they find and send me delicious writing gaffes I can use to illustrate barriers to clarity. Here's one a reader found in his own writing; it's a confessional:
"After I read your column today, I re-read a message I'd sent to a friend: 'I'll stop by today after I have a workout with a slice of meatloaf.'"
If you've ever worked out with a slice of meatloaf, you know how sloppy and awkward that can be. The reader could have avoided the mess by writing, "I'll stop by today with a slice of meatloaf after I have a workout."
A sloppy version takes shape when writers know exactly what they mean, but unconsciously compress separate thoughts. Once again — and yet again — the best advice: Read aloud what you have written. That helps to achieve clarity.
Another reader, who writes very well, told me it was "terrifying" for her to write to me, I suppose because she thinks I occupy some unreachable perch in the realm of writing.
I wrote back to disabuse her of that notion and to suggest that — as many people have noted — perfection is the enemy of good. Most people I have known who fear the task of writing think they have to live up to strict rules, and to follow those rules by editing themselves word by word as they go along.
Serious mistake.
