In yesterday’s article, I credited writing skills, not technical prowess, for having the most impact on my career. Many white-collar jobs revolve around persuading others and explaining our ideas; I’ve seen countless design proposals, promo packets, and escalation docs tanked by turgid prose.
Back in 2021, I penned a Twitter thread with a handful of writing tips, but Twitter is a poor medium for long-form text. It might be time to recap the advice in a format that’s easier to digest (and riddled with fewer typos).
My advice to techie writers boils down to four points:
Recognize that the voice in your head is an unreliable narrator. When re-reading your emails or docs, you hear what you wanted to say, not what the text actually spells out. It helps to add a bit of time between writing, proofreading, and hitting “send”. Another trick is to find an empty room and read the text out loud.
Come up with a crisp tagline for what you’re about to say. Hone in on one or two key points, then test every sentence in your doc by asking if it helps that narrative. If not, get rid of it or rephrase.
Write for your audience, not for yourself. Make it clear what’s at stake and anticipate questions. In most cases, the audience doesn’t want to learn your craft, so explain concepts succintly and avoid jargon or Wikipedia links.
Keep in mind that when you’re competing for attention, simple sentences and short words beat flowery language. The Economist Style Guide and The Chicago Manual of Style are accessible and worth your time.
For escalations and disputes, mak sure you're zeroing in on the right problem and putting forward meaningful choices. For example, if a team is not prioritizing your requests, a VP missive that says “you ought to make them do it” is worth less than “here’s what they’re busy with; we can either delay X or hire an extra person to get my thing done”.
If you’re trying to settle an argument, it’s also important to agree on the underlying facts. Disputes where the parties present diverging versions of reality point to issues that are orthogonal to what you’re trying to solve.
For any longer-form text, it also pays to have an editorial process in place. We have an intense attachment to what we write, and it’s often harder to delete a paragraph than to add a new one. Here’s how I tackle this:
I start with a collection of hastily-scribbled mnemonics that capture the intended flow of the article. I spend some time moving, deleting, or rephrasing this word soup until the structure feels right.
With these labels in place, I begin fleshing out the paragraphs. I get the words in, but I’m still expecting to do an angry rewrite down the line.
I put myself in the readers’ shoes, trying to figure out what they already know, what they’re hoping to learn, and what details would be irrelevant to them. I revise the text until I think it makes sense from that vantage point.
I wrap things up with a final wordsmithing pass. At this point, I’m not making structural changes; I’m just fixing the typos and improving style.
Also, another key trait - per the author of `On writing well` - simplicity and consistency