If in doubt, go short. And even if you’re not, do it anyway.

Over the weekend, I listened to a BBC podcast called A Good Read. If you’re a book lover like me, it’s a delight. Each week, the presenter and two guests recommend books they’ve read and enjoyed. They’ve all read each other’s recommendations, and each defends their own choice and gives their opinion of the other books. Sometimes, they’re all agreed that they love a book. But the most interesting programmes are where there’s disagreement, with a clutch of bibliophiles slugging it out over their reading choices. One of the books recommended this week was The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. It’s a decade since Franzen created a minor media storm by rejecting Oprah’s endorsement of his book. This was marketing madness in a world where Winfrey was a kingmaker. But reject it he did. And actually, it was a pretty smart move, as the controversy sent sales through the roof. I read it when it came out, and enjoyed it. Most of it. There were some passages that seemed to drag, and others that seemed to fizzle out.  But I’m difficult (you didn’t know?) and thought that was just me. It wasn’t.

Make a long story short

The presenter thought there was excessive detail, excursions into minor characters’ pasts, and a dead end or two. And the guests – including the one whose choice it was – had to agree. So yes, they all liked it. But. And it’s that but that makes all the difference. Franzen takes an age to produce a book, and is almost obsessive in his research and writing routine. He’s so totally focused on the book that all else ceases to exist. In fact, during the writing of The Corrections, his wife left him. He’s also famously difficult with editors, insisting that his writing remain intact and fiercely resisting amendments. The determination, focus and years of hard slog were worth the effort though, and the book shot to the top of the bestseller list. But it would have been a better book if it had been shorter, tighter and less meandering. As the old saying goes, and as the presenter of A Good Read reminded us, you must learn to ‘murder your darlings’. In other words, to run your red pen through your carefully crafted copy and cut it down to the essentials. First to go should be the bits that you feel particularly pleased with (that’s an early warning of a blind spot).

Short and tweet

It’s easy to write a long story. A long brochure. A long web page. A long anything. It requires no discipline, plan or structure. Shorter is actually more work, and never as easy as it looks. It’s a case of being objective, methodical and empathetic towards the reader’s needs. Will they be bored? Will they follow your logic? Could you spare them any detail? Could you make it punchier? Can you assume they’ll make it to the end? (That’s a very big assumption.) Long is never wrong. It’s just not as right as it could be. Ironically, The Corrections failed to live up to its title. It sold millions, but it would have done even better if it had been a couple of hundred pages shorter. On which point, it’s time to end. If you’ve actually got this far… Find out more: