From the monthly archives:

July 2007

As the publisher or RainToday.com I get both the honor and the chore of reading emails that go something like this:

Mike,

I’ve been reading RainToday.com for quite some time. I’m a really good writer myself, and I publish articles all the time. Thought I’d write an article for you to consider for publishing. It’s attached. Let me know what you think.

Thanks,

Fred G. Sanford

Do most of their articles grab me with interesting openings? No.

Do they say something new and important (or something old and important in a way that still helps me)? No.

Do they have personality? No.

Are they strangling in unnecessary words, circular constructions, pompous frills and meaningless jargon? Yes.

Self-important? Yes.

Not grammatical? Yes.

Unbalanced? Indeed.

Here and there I’ve typed out my response—and I’m a send button away from catharsis—but I resist. Since I’m feeling a bit saucier than usual, and I’d like to get it off my chest just once, here goes:

Fred G.,

What I think:

Bromidic, platitudinous, banal pap.

Say hello to Grady for me.

Mike

Snooty reply out. Check! Snooty words used. Check! Now I feel better.

Meanwhile, it’s not always a lost cause. A gem comes by now and then and redeems the lot.

What does a gem look like, you ask?

Instead of providing the standard list of seven tips for writing well, I’ll recommend to you my top writing resources.

1. Read The Elements of Style by William Strunk and E.B. White. As Charles Osgood said, “The Elements of Style is a little book, small enough and important enough to carry in your pocket, as I carry mine. It has helped me to write better. I believe it can do the same for you.”

From The Elements of Style on…style:

If you doubt that style is something of a mystery, try rewriting a familiar sentence and see what happens. Any much-quoted sentence will do. Suppose we take “These are the times that try men’s souls.” Here we have eight short, easy words, forming a simple declarative sentence. The sentence contains no flashy ingredients such as “Damn the torpedoes!” and the words, as you see, are ordinary. Yet, in that arrangement, they have shown great durability; the sentence is into its third century. Now compare a few variations:

Times like these try men’s souls.

How trying it is to live in these times!

These are trying times for men’s souls.

Soulwise, these are trying times.

It seems unlikely that Thomas Paine could have made his sentiment stick if he had couched it in any of these forms…

2. Read On Writing Well by Bill Zinnser. It’s not just the best book of advice on how to get important thoughts across in interesting ways. It’s a great read.

From On Writing Well on simplicity:

Clutter is the disease of American writing. We are a society strangling in unnecessary words, circular constructions, pompous frills and meaningless jargon.

Who can understand the viscous language of everyday American commerce and enterprise: the business letter, the interoffice memo, the corporation report, the notice from the bank explaining its latest “simplified” statement? What member of an insurance or medical plan can decipher the brochure that tells him what his costs and benefits are? What father or mother can put together a child’s toy—on Christmas Eve or any other eve—from the instructions on the box? Our national tendency is to inflate and thereby sound important. The airline pilot who announces that he is presently anticipating experiencing considerable precipitation wouldn’t dream of saying that it may rain. The sentence is too simple—there must be something wrong with it.

But the secret of good writing is…

…right there waiting for you on page 6.

It is 3:02am, and I am on the redeye from Alaska back to Massachusetts, via Atlanta, of course. Sitting next to me is a partner of a CPA firm in Miami who is flying back from the Kenai Peninsula. He just spent 30 days there with a construction team working to build his dream vacation cabin on the water.

For the last two years, that dream has been a nightmare. The service provider he hired two years ago to build the house started it, and then poof he was gone…vanishing into the great Alaskan bush. A few years, a few lawyers, and a lot of heartache later, he flew his own team to Alaska from Florida to finish the cabin. Now, he’s got a great cabin to go along with the lingering bad taste of bad service.

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Meanwhile, I spent a week at the Bear Bay Lodge fishing for Alaskan salmon, trout, char, and grayling. On the ride to the airport before the long journey home, Josh, the Camp Manager, spent quite a bit of time talking about how he strives to deliver the Disneyland Experience (minus the clean shaven look…this is fishing in Alaska after all) through each member of the staff to all the guests at the lodge. Since I was a recipient of that service, I knew quite well he meant it, too.

When we got to the Dillingham airport, the woman at the ticket counter was having quite a bit of trouble with the computer (Don’t they all?). Most of the lovely patrons in line seemed annoyed by their extra wait even though, once they were done waiting in line, there was no waiting area to speak of, no coffee shop…no nothin’. No one was harsh, but they were semi-snide, semi-irked, and semi-quiet about it. She could hear what they said.

Josh, on the other hand, had a different reaction to the situation. After the frustrated ticket agent finally got some love from the computer, and we were done checking in, he told her that she was doing a great job.

If I worked in Dillingham, AK, I’d work for Josh—but I don’t. So instead, I’ll just recommend other folks to visit him. It seems you can get good service in Alaska as well as good fish.

Joshes inspire loyal teams. Loyal teams deliver great service. Great service gets referrals from happy clients.

Are your leaders Joshes? Do they make your team understand what it means to deliver the Disneyland Experience? And then, do they lead by example by making a positive comment when it might have been unexpected?