But try blogging – five, six days a week, 500 words or so at a throw – and you find out what Honest Abe meant when he said you can’t please any of the people none of the time … or some such thing (I’m sure a good editor cleaned up his rough draft before the quote hit Bartlett’s).
Writing is hard work. It’s inconvenient. It’s easy to postpone.
Poke around the blogosphere and see how many bloggers post one entry … and disappear. A relative few get past the first three or four. It is rare, indeed, to find a daily-active blog, rich with content, alive with the spirit that brings you back – as the followers of Thackeray, Dickens or Eliot might have breathlessly awaited each published episode.
As kids of the Great Depression plunked hard-to-come-by nickels under the Flash Gordon marquee.
As Watergate co-conspirators jerked awake when the Washington Post slapped onto the porch full of the latest revelations of Messrs. Woodward & Bernstein.
To date, “Fix Your Writing” has been two parts coaching, three parts philosophy and four parts specimens of memorable writing. That’s nine parts, and many of you, Dear Readers, have characterized a tenth part – if not the entire effort – as more specimen than memoria.
Perhaps it is time to return to the basics.
Yesterday, I met a man whose 60-something mother is embarking on an adventure … a quest for long-yearned-for college degree. Intelligent, intuitive, the major obstacle (now that said son and siblings have vacated the premises) is a set of writing skills that have atrophied over several decades of disuse.
Like millions of us, she needs a little help with her writing – someone to look over an essay, book report, term paper … whatever. Someone to nosy through pages of text, and make sure her words are as clearly understood as a mother addressing her child by all three names.
For some, a critique of one’s writing is daunting – potentially humiliating. But all of us should be lucky enough to approach a critical challenge with the mindset of this venerable woman. She’s a mother. After decades of romping through the forest of Motherhood, bouncing off the tree trunks and cursing to the squirrels, what could possibly seem embarrassing? Challenging? Novel or unique?
In her honor, let’s tackle eight basic lessons over the next two weeks – lessons every student should master. And since all of us are students of one discipline or another, the advice applies to first-graders, high-schoolers, Freshman English enrollees, interns, managers, CEOs and retirees:
• KISS
• 25 words
• Two sentences
• Write
• Speak
• Read
• Practice
• Love
Grandma (you’ve earned that title and, I’m confident, cherish it dearly) … I know you’ll make this. After all, if the big fella’s boarding-house reach across the Thanksgiving table every November hasn’t pounded your spirit into submission, what’s going to stop you?
Next: Back to Basics – Part 1
[For personal writing assistance, go to www.fixadocument.com]
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