Look at the following sentence: Whether or not he is genuinely gregarious, he is certainly a compulsive communicator who revels in campaigns. It’s taken from a Sunday Times magazine interview with Jeffrey (Lord) Archer, the bestselling novelist/disgraced Tory peer. As is this: He bore the two vicissitudes with exemplary fortitude. It is impossible not to both admire and envy his resilience. Now try reading the sentences again. Only this time, do it out loud. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? I’d bet my dog-eared copy of Kane and Abel that the writer didn’t do what you’ve just done. And that’s surprising. Roy (also Lord) Hattersley is not only a former politician, he’s also a veteran columnist and author of almost a dozen books. So what was he thinking? Did he really not see the alliteration (g-g, c-c-c-c) in the first sentence? Or the clash of ‘vicissitudes’ and ‘fortitude’ with that awkward ‘exemplary’ getting in the way? And why didn’t he simply write ‘It is impossible not to admire and envy his resilience’? Language has a music all of its own. Think of your favourite poem, prayer or tagline. Now say it aloud. What do you notice? It’s got a beat. It’s balanced. It works. Reading what you’ve written out loud will help you uncover any problems in your copy. Sometimes, it’s a word that causes you to miss a beat. Sometimes, it’s too many short or long sentences in a row. And sometimes, it’s plain old repetition. ‘How could I not have noticed that?’ you wonder. You didn’t read it out loud. That’s how. Try it. You’ll be amazed.