The Qualities of Good Writing Essay

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The Qualities of Good Writing Jacqueline Berke Jacqueline Berke is a professor of English at Drew University, where she teaches both introductory and advanced writing courses and various courses in literature. A widely published writer herself, she has contributed to many journals and magazines, has been a fellow of the MacDowell Colony for artists and writers, and is the author of a widely used writing textbook, Twenty Questions for the Writer. "The Qualities of Good Writing" is reprinted here from that book. (The speech by Patrick Henry from which Berke quotes in her first two paragraphs is printed in full in Chapter 13 of The Resourceful Reader.) Even before you set out, you come prepared by instinct and intuition to make certain judgments about what is "good." Take the following fa- miliar sentence, for example: " I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death." Do you suppose this thought of Patrick Henry's would have come ringing down through the centuries if he had expressed this sentiment not in one tight, rhythmical sentence but as follows: It would be difficult, if not impossible, to predict on the basis of my limited information as to the predilections of the public, what the citizenry at large will regard as action commensurate with the present provocation, but after arduous consideration I personally feel so intensely and irrevocably commit- ted to the position of social, political, and economic independence, that rather than submit to foreign and despotic control which is anathema to me, I will make the ultimate sacrifice of which humanity is capable—under the aegis of personal honor, ideological conviction, and existential commitment, I will sac- rifice my own mortal existence. How does this rambling, "high-flown" paraphrase measure up to the bold "Give me liberty or give me death"? Who will deny that something is "happening" in Patrick Henry's rousing challenge that not only fails to hap- pen in the paraphrase but is actually negated there? Would you bear with this long-winded, pompous speaker to the end? If you were to judge this statement strictly on its rhetoric (its choice and arrangement of words), you might aptly call it more boring than brave. Perhaps a plainer version will work better: 258 Liberty is a very important thing for a person to have. Most people—at least the people I've talked to or that other people have told me about—know this and therefore are very anxious to preserve their liberty. Of course I can't be absolutely sure about what other folks are going to do in this present crisis, what with all these threats and everything, but I've made up my mind that I'm going to fight because liberty is really a very important thing to me; at least that's the way I feel about it. This flat, "homely" prose, weighted down with what Flaubert called "fatty deposits," is grammatical enough. As in the pompous paraphrase, every verb agrees with its subject, every comma is in its proper place; nonetheless it lacks the qualities that make a statement—of one sentence or one hundred pages— pungent, vital, moving, memorable. Let us isolate these qualities and describe them briefly . . . . The first quality of good writing is economy. In an appropriately slender volume entitled The Elements of Style, authors William Strunk and E. B. White stated concisely the case for economy: "A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts. This requires not that the writer make all his sentences short or that he avoid all detail . . . but that every word tell." In other words, economical writing is efficient and aesthetically satisfying. While it makes a minimum demand on the energy and patience of readers, it returns to them a maximum of sharply compressed mean- ing. You should accept this as your basic responsibility as a writer: that you inflict no unnecessary words on your readers—just as a dentist inflicts no un- necessary pain, a lawyer no unnecessary risk. Economical writing avoids strain and at the same time promotes pleasure by producing a sense of form and right proportion, a sense of words that fit the ideas that they embody—with not a line of "deadwood" to dull the reader's attention, not ah extra, useless phrase to clog the free flow of ideas, one following swiftly and clearly upon another. Another basic quality of good writing is simplicity. Here again this does not require that you make all your sentences primerlike or that you reduce complexities to bare bone, but rather that you avoid embellishment or em- broidery. The natural, unpretentious style is best. But, paradoxically, simplic- ity or naturalness does not come naturally. By the time we are old enough to write, most of us have grown so self-conscious that we stiffen, sometimes to the point of rigidity, when we are called upon to make a statement in speech or in writing. It is easy to offer the kindly advice "Be yourself," but many people do not feel like themselves when they take a pencil in hand or sit down ar a typewriter. Thus during the early days of the Second World War, when air raids were feared in New York City and blackouts were instituted, an anonymous writer—probably a young civil service worker at City Hall— produced and distributed to stores throughout the city the following poster:

Transcript of The Qualities of Good Writing Essay

The Qualities of Good Wri t ing Jacqueline Berke

Jacqueline Berke is a professor of English at Drew University, where she teaches both introductory and advanced wri t ing courses and various courses in literature. A widely published writer herself, she has contributed to many journals and magazines, has been a fellow of the MacDowell Colony for artists and writers, and is the author of a widely used wri t ing textbook, Twenty Questions for the Writer. "The Qualities of Good W r i t i n g " is reprinted here f rom that book. (The speech by Patrick Henry from which Berke quotes in her first t w o paragraphs is printed in fu l l in Chapter 13 of The Resourceful Reader.)

E v e n before y o u set o u t , y o u come prepared by i n s t i n c t a n d i n t u i t i o n

t o m a k e c e r t a i n j u d g m e n t s a b o u t w h a t is " g o o d . " Take the f o l l o w i n g f a ­

m i l i a r sentence, f o r e x a m p l e : " I k n o w n o t w h a t course others m a y t a k e , b u t

as f o r m e , give me l i b e r t y o r give me d e a t h . " D o y o u suppose th is t h o u g h t

o f P a t r i c k H e n r y ' s w o u l d have come r i n g i n g d o w n t h r o u g h the centuries i f

he h a d expressed this sent iment n o t i n one t i g h t , r h y t h m i c a l sentence b u t

as f o l l o w s :

I t would be dif f icult , if not impossible, to predict on the basis of my limited information as to the predilections of the public, what the citizenry at large w i l l regard as action commensurate w i t h the present provocation, but after arduous consideration I personally feel so intensely and irrevocably commit­ted to the position of social, political , and economic independence, that rather than submit to foreign and despotic control which is anathema to me, I w i l l make the ultimate sacrifice of which humanity is capable—under the aegis of personal honor, ideological conviction, and existential commitment, I w i l l sac­rifice my o w n mortal existence.

H o w does th i s r a m b l i n g , " h i g h - f l o w n " paraphrase measure u p t o the b o l d " G i v e m e l i b e r t y o r give me death"? W h o w i l l deny t h a t s o m e t h i n g is " h a p p e n i n g " i n P a t r i c k H e n r y ' s r o u s i n g challenge t h a t n o t o n l y fai ls t o h a p ­pen i n the paraphrase b u t is a c t u a l l y negated there? W o u l d y o u bear w i t h th is l o n g - w i n d e d , p o m p o u s speaker t o the end? I f y o u w e r e t o judge this s ta tement s t r i c t l y o n its r h e t o r i c (its choice a n d a r r a n g e m e n t o f w o r d s ) , y o u m i g h t a p t l y ca l l i t m o r e b o r i n g t h a n brave. Perhaps a p la iner v e r s i o n w i l l w o r k bet ter :

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Liberty is a very important thing for a person to have. Most people—at least the people I've talked to or that other people have told me about—know this and therefore are very anxious to preserve their liberty. Of course I can't be absolutely sure about what other folks are going to do in this present crisis, what w i t h all these threats and everything, but I've made up my mind that I ' m going to fight because liberty is really a very important thing to me; at least that's the way I feel about i t .

T h i s f l a t , " h o m e l y " prose, w e i g h t e d d o w n w i t h w h a t F laubert cal led " f a t t y depos i t s , " is g r a m m a t i c a l e n o u g h . As i n the p o m p o u s paraphrase , every verb agrees w i t h its subject, every c o m m a is i n its proper place; nonetheless i t lacks the qual i t ies t h a t make a s t a t e m e n t — o f one sentence or one h u n d r e d pages— p u n g e n t , v i t a l , m o v i n g , m e m o r a b l e .

Le t us isolate these qualities a n d describe t h e m briefly. . . . T h e f irst q u a l i t y o f g o o d w r i t i n g is economy. I n an a p p r o p r i a t e l y slender v o l u m e ent i t l ed The Elements of Style, authors W i l l i a m S t r u n k and E. B. W h i t e stated concisely the case f o r economy: " A sentence s h o u l d c o n t a i n no unnecessary w o r d s , a p a r a g r a p h n o unnecessary sentences, f o r the same reason that a d r a w i n g s h o u l d have n o unnecessary lines a n d a machine n o unnecessary parts . T h i s requires n o t t h a t the w r i t e r make a l l his sentences short or that he a v o i d a l l detai l . . . b u t that every w o r d t e l l . " I n other w o r d s , economical w r i t i n g is efficient a n d aesthetically satisfying. W h i l e i t makes a m i n i m u m d e m a n d o n the energy a n d patience o f readers, i t returns t o t h e m a m a x i m u m o f sharply compressed m e a n ­i n g . Y o u should accept this as y o u r basic responsibi l i ty as a w r i t e r : t h a t y o u i n f l i c t n o unnecessary w o r d s o n y o u r readers—just as a dentist inf l ic ts n o u n ­necessary p a i n , a l awyer n o unnecessary r i s k . E c o n o m i c a l w r i t i n g avoids s t r a i n a n d at the same t i m e p r o m o t e s pleasure b y p r o d u c i n g a sense o f f o r m a n d r i g h t p r o p o r t i o n , a sense o f w o r d s t h a t f i t the ideas t h a t they e m b o d y — w i t h n o t a l ine o f " d e a d w o o d " t o d u l l the reader's a t t e n t i o n , n o t ah e x t r a , useless phrase t o c l o g the free f l o w o f ideas, one f o l l o w i n g s w i f t l y a n d clearly u p o n another.

A n o t h e r basic q u a l i t y o f g o o d w r i t i n g is simplicity. H e r e again this does n o t requi re t h a t y o u m a k e a l l y o u r sentences p r i m e r l i k e o r t h a t y o u reduce complex i t i es t o bare bone , b u t ra ther t h a t y o u a v o i d embel l i shment o r e m ­bro idery . T h e n a t u r a l , u n p r e t e n t i o u s style is best. B u t , p a r a d o x i c a l l y , s i m p l i c ­i t y o r naturalness does n o t come n a t u r a l l y . By the t i m e w e are o l d e n o u g h t o w r i t e , m o s t o f us have g r o w n so self-conscious t h a t we s t i f f en , sometimes t o the p o i n t o f r i g i d i t y , w h e n w e are cal led u p o n t o m a k e a statement i n speech or i n w r i t i n g . I t is easy t o of fer the k i n d l y advice "Be y o u r s e l f , " b u t m a n y people d o n o t feel l ike themselves w h e n they take a penci l i n h a n d or sit d o w n ar a t y p e w r i t e r . T h u s d u r i n g the ear ly days o f the Second W o r l d War , w h e n air raids w e r e feared i n N e w Y o r k C i t y a n d b lackouts were i n s t i t u t e d , an a n o n y m o u s w r i t e r — p r o b a b l y a y o u n g c i v i l service w o r k e r at C i t y H a l l — p r o d u c e d a n d d i s t r i b u t e d t o stores t h r o u g h o u t the c i ty the f o l l o w i n g poster :

260 Chapter- 7/Classification and Division

I l lumination is Required

to be Extinguished

on These Premises After Nightfal l

W h a t this meant , o f course, was s i m p l y " L i g h t s O u t A f t e r D a r k " ; b u t ap­parent ly that direct imperat ive—clear and to the p o i n t — d i d not sound " o f f i ­c i a l " enough; so the w r i t e r resorted t o l o n g Lat ina te w o r d s and i n v o l v e d syn­t a x (note the a w k w a r d passives "is R e q u i r e d " a n d "to be E x t i n g u i s h e d " ) t o establish a tone o f d i g n i t y a n d a u t h o r i t y . I n contras t , h o w beaut i fu l ly s imple are the w o r d s o f the translators o f the K i n g James Vers ion of the Bible , w h o fel t no need for f l o u r i s h , f lamboyance , or grandi loquence . The L o r d d i d n o t l o f t i l y or bombast ical ly p r o c l a i m t h a t universal i l l u m i n a t i o n was r e q u i r e d t o be instantaneously instal led. S imply but majest ical ly " G o d said, Le t there be l ight : and there was l i g h t . . . . A n d G o d cal led the l i g h t Day , a n d the d a r k ­ness he called N i g h t . "

M o s t memorable declarations have been spare a n d direct . A b r a h a m L i n c o l n and John Kennedy seemed t o "speak t o each other across the span o f a century , " notes French a u t h o r A n d r e M a u r o i s , f o r b o t h m e n e m b o d i e d n o ­ble themes i n e loquently s imple terms. Said L i n c o l n i n his second I n a u g u r a l Address: " W i t h malice t o w a r d s none, w i t h c h a r i t y f o r a l l , w i t h f i rmness i n the r i g h t as G o d gives us the r i g h t , let us str ive o n t o f i n i s h the w o r k w e are i n . . . . " One h u n d r e d years later President K e n n e d y made his I n a u g u r a l ded­i ca t ion : " W i t h a g o o d conscience o u r o n l y sure r e w a r d , w i t h h i s tory the f i n a l judge of our deeds, let us go f o r t h t o lead the l a n d w e love. . . . "

A t h i r d f u n d a m e n t a l element o f g o o d w r i t i n g is clarity. Some people ques t ion w h e t h e r i t is a lways possible t o be clear; af ter a l l , c e r t a i n ideas are i n h e r e n t l y c o m p l i c a t e d and inescapably d i f f i c u l t . T r u e e n o u g h . B u t the responsible w r i t e r recognizes t h a t w r i t i n g s h o u l d n o t a d d t o the c o m p l i c a ­t ions n o r increase the d i f f i c u l t y ; i t s h o u l d n o t set u p an a d d i t i o n a l r o a d ­b l o c k t o u n d e r s t a n d i n g . I n d e e d , the G e r m a n p h i l o s o p h e r W i t t g e n s t e i n w e n t so far as t o say tha t " w h a t e v e r can be said can be said c lear ly . " I f y o u u n ­derstand y o u r o w n idea a n d w a n t t o convey i t t o o thers , y o u are o b l i g e d t o render i t i n clear, o r d e r l y , readable , u n d e r s t a n d a b l e prose—else w h y bother w r i t i n g i n the f i r s t place? A c t u a l l y , obscure w r i t e r s are u s u a l l y c o n ­fused, u n c e r t a i n o f w h a t they w a n t to say o r w h a t they m e a n ; they have n o t yet c o m p l e t e d t h a t process o f t h i n k i n g t h r o u g h a n d reasoning i n t o the heart o f the subject.

Suffice i t t o say here that whatever the t o p i c , whatever the occasion, ex­

pos i tory w r i t i n g should be readable, i n f o r m a t i v e , a n d , wherever possible, en­

gaging. A t its best i t m a y even be poetic , as N i k o s Kazantzakis suggests i n

Zorba the Greek, where he draws an analogy between good prose a n d a beau­

t i f u l landscape:

Berke/The Qualities of Good Writing 261

To my mind the Cretan countryside resembled good prose, carefully ordered, sober, free f rom superfluous ornament, powerful and restrained. It expressed all that was necessary w i t h the greatest economy. It had no flippancy nor artifice about i t . I t said what i t had to say w i t h a manly austerity. But be­tween the severe lines one could discern an unexpected sensitiveness and ten­derness; in the sheltered hollows the lemon and orange trees perfumed the air, and f r o m the vastness of the sea emanated an inexhaustible poetry.

Even i n technical w r i t i n g , where the range o f styles is necessarily l i m i t e d (and poetry is neither possible nor appropr ia te ) , y o u must a lways be aware o f " t h e reader over y o u r shoulder . " Take such topics as h o w to f o l l o w posta l reg­ulat ions for overseas m a i l , h o w to change o i l i n an engine, h o w to p r o d u c e as­p i r i n f r o m salicylic ac id . H e r e are technical exposi tory descriptions tha t defy a memorable t u r n o f phrase; here is w r i t i n g that is of necessity cut a n d d r i e d , dispassionate, a n d bloodless. But i t need n o t be d i f f i c u l t , tedious, c o n f u s i n g , or d u l l to those w h o w a n t to f i n d o u t about m a i l i n g letters, ch an gin g o i l , or m a k i n g aspir in . Those w h o seek such i n f o r m a t i o n should have reasonably easy access t o i t , w h i c h means that w r i t t e n instruct ions should be clear, s imple , spare, direct , and m o s t o f a l l , human: f o r no matter h o w technical a subject, a l l w r i t ­i n g is done for h u m a n beings by h u m a n beings. W r i t i n g , i n other w o r d s , l i k e language itself, is a s tr ic t ly h u m a n enterprise. Machines m a y s t a m p letters, measure o i l , a n d convert acids, b u t o n l y h u m a n beings t a l k a n d w r i t e a b o u t these procedures so that other h u m a n beings m a y better unders tand t h e m . I t is always appropr ia te , therefore, t o be h u m a n i n one's statement.

Part o f this h u m a n i t y must stem f r o m y o u r sense o f w h o y o u r readers are. Y o u m u s t assume a " r h e t o r i c a l stance." Indeed this is a f u n d a m e n t a l p r i n c i ­ple o f rhe tor i c : nothing should ever be written in a vacuum. Y o u s h o u l d i d e n ­t i f y y o u r audience, h y p o t h e t i c a l o r rea l , so t h a t y o u m a y speak to t h e m i n a n a p p r o p r i a t e voice. A student , f o r example , s h o u l d never " j u s t w r i t e , " w i t h o u t v i sua l iz ing a def ini te g r o u p o f readers—fe l low students, perhaps, o r the e d u ­cated c o m m u n i t y at large ( inte l l igent nonspecialists). W i t h o u t such def in i te readers i n m i n d , y o u cannot assume a suitable and a p p r o p r i a t e r e l a t i o n s h i p t o y o u r m a t e r i a l , y o u r purpose , a n d y o u r audience. A p r o p e r r h e t o r i c a l stance, i n other w o r d s , requires t h a t y o u have an active sense o f the f o l l o w i n g :

1 . W h o you are as a writer. 2. W h o your readers are. 3. W h y you are addressing them and on what occasion. 4. Your relationship to your subject matter.

5. H o w you want your readers to relate to the subject matter.

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R E S P O N D I N G T O T H E W H O L E ESSAY

1 . Would you say that Berke's primary purpose in "The Qualities of Good W r i t i n g " is expressive, informative, or persuasive? Does knowing that the selection comes