Three tips to sharpen your writing

…or how to avoid mixing, dangling and losing control

OK, let’s jump on in. Oh you thought there’d be a witty intro, a scene-setting anecdote, did you? You thought you could just sit back and enjoy the ride? Well you can, in just a moment. But first, here’s a question for you: What is a paragraph? Give up? Well cast your mind back to your English class, and you’ll remember that each paragraph should have one idea. When you move on to a new idea, or a new angle on the same idea, then start a new paragraph. It really is that simple. (Paragraphs also allow you a little breathing space, as you can see.) Now if a sentence is part of a paragraph, it too should have a purpose. And it does: it conveys part of the idea, and should have a focus all of its own. Pack too many elements into a sentence, and you’re heading for trouble. Here’s an example from The Guardian newspaper:

Having been one of just 10 women MPs when first elected in 1982, at seven months pregnant, she has long been a critic of the gentlemen’s club culture, and while many of her colleagues are calling this crisis a catastrophe, to reformers it is also an unmistakable opportunity.

Feeling seasick yet? I certainly am. This never-ending sentence is taken from an otherwise well-written profile of Harriet Harman, focusing on the MPs’ expenses scandal. It’s a one-sentence paragraph, but look at how many ideas are in it:

She was elected in 1982
She was one of just 10 women MPs
She was seven months pregnant
She’s a critic of the gentlemen’s club culture
Some of her colleagues are calling the crisis a catastrophe
To reformers [is she one of them?] it’s an opportunity

This sentence is a bulging holdall, a ragbag collection of unrelated ideas. And yet it was written by a journalist with decades of experience. Tip #1: don’t mix too many ideas in one paragraph, or in one sentence.

Say what you mean

Though the above sentence is long and winding, its meaning is still (just about) clear. That isn’t always the case. I know what I mean, you say to yourself, as you read back over a sentence you’ve just written. Sure, it’s not the most elegant sentence in the world, but then, you’re not looking for prizes – just to get your message across. But it doesn’t matter if you know what you mean. Does your reader? Last week, I came across the following sentence:

Interestingly, and perhaps in a sign that this is changing, Cruddas goes out of his way to praise James Purnell, who resigned on Thursday night with a spectacular call for Brown to do the same, both personally and intellectually.

I scratched my head. Aren’t all resignations personal? And how do you resign intellectually? I read it again. And again. Then, in desperation, I read it aloud. And finally, I realised the meaning. It’s this:

Interestingly, and perhaps in a sign that this is changing, Cruddas goes out of his way to praise James Purnell, who resigned on Thursday night with a spectacular call for Brown to do the same, both personally and intellectually.

Tip #2: read everything you write out loud (but make sure you’re alone first).

It takes two to dangle

Have you ever received a letter or email that begins:

As a valued customer, we’d like to make you a very special offer.

Something feels wrong, doesn’t it? (I mean other than the ‘special’ offer, and the fact that you’re valued no more than the 100,000 other recipients.) This problem revels in the delightful name of a (deep breath) dangling non-participial modifier. In plain English, it means that the first part is unrelated to the second. Who’s the valuable customer? You are. So the first word after the comma should be you. The corrected sentence looks something like this:

As a valued customer, you qualify for our great special offer.

Alternatively, you could rework the beginning, giving you:

As you’re a valued customer, we’d like to make you a very special offer.

See? That works better. Well the English does anyway – I’m not so sure about the offer. But that’s another story. Tip #3: if you begin a sentence with ‘as’, be on your guard. You might just be dangling (and it’s not a pretty sight).

Kevin Communication, Grammar, Writing.