11.1 Focus on the First Seven or Eight Words of a Sentence
11.1.1 Avoid Long Introductory Phrases and Clauses
11.1.2 Make Subjects Short and Concrete
11.1.3 Avoid Interrupting Subjects and Verbs with More than a Word or Two
11.1.4 Put Key Actions in Verbs, Not in Nouns
11.1.6 Choose Active or Passive Verbs to Reflect the Previous Principles
Your last big task is to make your sentences as clear as your ideas allow. On some occasions you may know your writing is awkward, especially if you’re writing about an unfamiliar and complex topic for intimidating readers. In fact, you may even feel you’ve forgotten how to write clearly at all. You need a plan to revise sentences that you can see need help, but even more, you need a way first to identify those that you think are fine but that readers might think are not.
We can’t tell you how to fix every problem in every sentence, but we can tell you how to deal with those that most often afflict a writer struggling to sound like a “serious scholar,” a style that most experienced readers think is just pretentious. Here is a short example:
1a. An understanding of terrorist thinking could achieve improvements in the protection of the public.
However impressive that sounds, the student who wrote it meant only this:
1b. If we understood how terrorists think, we could protect the public better.
To diagnose 1a and revise it into 1b, however, you must know a few grammatical terms: noun, verb, active verb, passive verb, whole subject, simple subject, main clause, subordinate clause. If they’re only a dim memory, skim a grammar guide before you go on.
Just as the key to a clearly written report, section, or paragraph is in its first few sentences, so is the key to a clearly written sentence in its first few words. When readers grasp those first seven or eight words easily, they read what follows faster, understand it better, and remember it longer. It is the difference between these two sentences:
2a. The Federalists’ argument in regard to the destabilization of government by popular democracy arose from their belief in the tendency of factions to further their self-interest at the expense of the common good.
2b. The Federalists argued that popular democracy destabilized government, because they believed that factions tended to further their self-interest at the expense of the common good.
To write a sentence like 2b, or to revise one like 2a into 2b, follow these seven principles:
■ Avoid introducing more than a few sentences with long phrases and clauses; get to the subject of your sentence quickly.
■ Make subjects short and concrete, ideally naming the character that performs the action expressed by the verb that follows.
■ Avoid interrupting the subject and verb with more than a word or two.
■ Put key actions in verbs, not in nouns.
■ Put information familiar to readers at the beginning of a sentence, new information at the end.
■ Choose active or passive verbs to reflect the previous principles.
■ Use first-person pronouns appropriately.
Those principles add up to this: readers want to get past a short, concrete, familiar subject quickly and easily to a verb expressing a specific action. When you do that, the rest of your sentence will usually take care of itself. To diagnose your own writing, look for those characteristics in it. Skim the first seven or eight words of every sentence. Look closely at sentences that don’t meet those criteria, then revise them as follows.
Compare these two sentences (introductory phrases are boldfaced, whole subjects italicized):
3a. In view of claims by researchers on higher education indicating at least one change by most undergraduate students of their major field of study, first-year students seem not well informed about choosing a major field of study.
3b. Researchers on higher education claim that most students change their major field of study at least once during their undergraduate career. If that is so, then first-year students seem not well informed when they choose a major.
Most readers find 3a harder to read than 3b, because it makes them work through a twenty-four-word phrase before they reach its subject (first-year students). In the two sentences in 3b, readers immediately start with a subject, Researchers, or reach it after a very short clause, If that is so.
The principle is this: start most of your sentences directly with their subjects. Begin only a few sentences with introductory phrases or clauses longer than ten or so words. You can usually revise long introductory phrases and subordinate clauses into separate independent sentences as in 3b.
Readers must grasp the subject of a sentence easily, but they can’t when the subject is long, complex, and abstract. Compare these two sentences (the whole subjects in each are italicized; the one-word simple subject is boldfaced):
4a. A school system’s successful adoption of a new reading curriculum for its elementary schools depends on the demonstration in each school of the commitment of its principal and the cooperation of teachers in setting reasonable goals.
4b. A school system will successfully adopt a new reading curriculum for elementary schools only when each principal demonstrates that she is committed to it and teachers cooperate to set reasonable goals.
In 4a, the whole subject is fourteen words long, and its simple subject is an abstraction—adoption. In 4b, the clearer version, the whole subject of every verb is short, and each simple subject is relatively concrete: school system, each principal, she, teachers. Moreover, each of those subjects performs the action in its verb: system will adopt, principal demonstrates, she is committed, teachers cooperate.
The principle is this: readers tend to judge a sentence to be readable when the subject of its verb names the main character in a few concrete words, ideally a character that is also the “doer” of the action expressed by the verb that follows.
But there’s a complication: you can often tell clear stories about abstract characters:
5. No skill is more valued in the professional world than problem solving. The ability to solve problems quickly requires us to frame situations in different ways and to find more than one solution. In fact, effective problem solving may define general intelligence.
Few readers have trouble with those abstract subjects, because they’re short and familiar: no skill, the ability to solve problems quickly, and effective problem solving. What gives readers trouble is an abstract subject that is long and unfamiliar.
To fix sentences with long, abstract subjects, revise in three steps:
■ Identify the main character in the sentence.
■ Find its key action, and if it is buried in an abstract noun, make it a verb.
■ Make the main character the subject of that new verb.
For example, compare 6a and 6b (actions are boldfaced; verbs are capitalized):
6a. Without a means for analyzing interactions between social class and education in regard to the creation of more job opportunities, success in understanding economic mobility WILL REMAIN limited.
6b. Economists do not entirely UNDERSTAND economic mobility, because they cannot ANALYZE how social class and education INTERACT to CREATE more job opportunities.
In both sentences the main character is economists, but in 6a that character isn’t the subject of any verb; in fact, it’s not in the sentence at all: we must infer it from actions buried in nouns—analyzing and understanding (what economists do). We revise 6a into 6b by making the main characters, economists, social class, and education, subjects of the explicit verbs understand, analyze, interact, and create.
Readers want subjects to name the main characters in your story, ideally flesh-and-blood characters, and specific verbs to name their key actions.
Once past a short subject, readers want to get to a verb quickly, so avoid splitting a verb from its subject with long phrases and clauses:
7a. Some economists, because they write in a style that is impersonal and objective, do not communicate with laypeople easily.
In 7a, the because clause separates the subject some economists from the verb do not communicate, forcing us to suspend our mental breath. To revise, move the interrupting clause to the beginning or end of its sentence, depending on whether it connects more closely to the sentence before or the one after. When in doubt, put it at the end (for more on this, see 11.1.5).
7b. Because some economists write in a style that is impersonal and objective, they do not communicate with laypeople easily. This inability to communicate …
7c. Some economists do not communicate with laypeople easily because they write in a style that is impersonal and objective. They use passive verbs and …
Readers manage short interruptions more easily:
8. Few economists deliberately write in a style that is impersonal and objective.
Readers want to get to a verb quickly, but they also want that verb to express a key action. So avoid using an empty verb such as have, do, make, or be to introduce an action buried in an abstract noun. Make the noun a verb.
Compare these two sentences (nouns naming actions are boldfaced; verbs naming actions are capitalized; verbs expressing little action are italicized):
9a. During the early years of the Civil War, the South’s attempt at enlisting Great Britain on its side was met with failure.
9b. During the early years of the Civil War, the South ATTEMPTED to ENLIST Great Britain on its side but FAILED.
In 9a, three important actions aren’t verbs but nouns: attempt, enlisting, failure. Sentence 9b seems more direct because it expresses those actions in verbs: attempted, enlist, failed.
Readers understand a sentence most readily when they grasp its subject easily, and the easiest subject to grasp is not just short and concrete but also familiar. Compare how the second sentence in each of the following passages does or doesn’t contribute to a sense of “flow”:
10a. New questions about the nature of the universe have been raised by scientists studying black holes in space. The collapse of a dead star into a point perhaps no larger than a marble creates a black hole. So much matter squeezed into so little volume changes the fabric of space around it in odd ways.
10b. New questions about the nature of the universe have been raised by scientists studying black holes in space. A black hole is created by the collapse of a dead star into a point no larger than a marble. So much matter squeezed into so little volume changes the fabric of space around it in odd ways.
Most readers think 10b flows better than 10a, partly because the subject of the second sentence, A black hole, is shorter and more concrete than the longer subject of 10a: The collapse of a dead star into a point perhaps no larger than a marble. But 10b also flows better because the order of its ideas is different.
In 10a, the first words of the second sentence express new information:
10a … black holes in space. The collapse of a dead star into a point perhaps no larger than a marble creates …
Those words about collapsing stars seem to come out of nowhere. But in 10b, the first words echo the end of the previous sentence:
10b … black holes in space. A black hole is created when …
Moreover, once we make that change, the end of that second sentence introduces the third more cohesively:
10b … the collapse of a dead star into a point no larger than a marble. So much matter compressed into so little volume changes …
Contrast 10a; the end of its second sentence doesn’t flow into the beginning of the third as smoothly:
10a. The collapse of a dead star into a point perhaps no larger than a marble creates a black hole. So much matter squeezed into so little volume changes the fabric of space around it in odd ways.
That is why readers think that passage 10a feels choppier than 10b: the end of one sentence does not flow smoothly into the beginning of the next.
The corollary of the old-information-first principle is to put new information last, especially new technical terms. So when you introduce one, put it at the end of its sentence. Compare these:
11a. Calcium blockers can control muscle spasms. Sarcomeres are the small units of muscle fibers in which these drugs work. Two filaments, one thick and one thin, are in each sarcomere. The proteins actin and myosin are contained in the thin filament. When actin and myosin interact, your heart contracts.
11b. Muscle spasms can be controlled with drugs known as calcium blockers. They work in small units of muscle fibers called sarcomeres. Each sarcomere has two filaments, one thick and one thin. The thin filament contains two proteins, actin and myosin. When actin and myosin interact, your heart contracts.
In 11a, the new technical terms are calcium blockers, sarcomeres, filaments, the proteins actin and myosin, but they first appear early in their sentences. In contrast, in 11b, those new terms first appear toward the ends of their sentences. After that, they’re old information and so can appear at the beginning of the next sentences.
No principle of writing is more important than this: old before new, familiar information introduces unfamiliar information.
You may recall advice to avoid passive verbs—good advice when a passive verb forces you to write a sentence that contradicts the principles we have discussed, as in the second sentence of this passage:
12a. Global warming may have many catastrophic effects. Tropical diseases and destructive insect life even north of the Canadian border could be increasedpassive verb by this climatic change.
That second sentence opens with an eleven-word subject conveying new information: Tropical diseases … Canadian border. It is the subject of a passive verb, be increased, and that verb is followed by a short, familiar bit of information from the sentence before: by this climatic change. That sentence would be clearer if its verb were active:
12b. Global warming may have many catastrophic effects. This climatic change could increaseactive verb tropical diseases and destructive insect life even north of the Canadian border.
Now the subject is familiar, and the new information in the longer phrase is at the end. In this case, the active verb is the right choice.
But if you never make a verb passive, you’ll write sentences that contradict the old-new principle. We saw an example in 10a:
10a. New questions about the nature of the universe have been raised by scientists studying black holes in space. The collapse of a dead star into a point perhaps no larger than a marble createsactive verb a black hole. So much matter squeezed into so little volume changes the fabric of space around it in odd ways.
The verb in the second sentence is active, but the passage flows better when it’s passive:
10b. New questions about the nature of the universe have been raised by scientists studying black holes in space. A black hole is createdpassive verb by the collapse of a dead star into a point no larger than a marble. So much matter squeezed into so little volume changes the fabric of space around it in odd ways.
A sentence is more readable when its subject is short, concrete, and familiar, regardless of whether its verb is active or passive. So choose active or passive voice by considering which gives you the right kind of subject: short, concrete, and familiar.
You can best judge how your readers will respond to your writing if you have someone read it back to you. If that person stumbles or seems to drone, you can bet that your readers will like your prose less than you do.
Almost everyone has heard the advice to avoid using I or we in academic writing. In fact, opinions differ on this. Some teachers tell students never to use I, because it makes their writing “subjective.” Others encourage using I as a way to make writing more lively and personal.
Most instructors and editors do agree that two uses of I should be avoided:
■ Insecure writers begin too many sentences with I think or I believe (or their equivalent, In my opinion). Readers assume that you think and believe what you write, so you don’t have to say you do.
■ Inexperienced writers too often narrate their research: First I consulted …, then I examined …, and so on. Readers care less about the story of your research than about its results.
But we believe, and most scholarly journals agree, that the first person is appropriate on two occasions. That last sentence illustrates one of them: we believe … that the first person …
■ An occasional introductory I (or we) believe can soften the dogmatic edge of a statement. Compare this blunter, less qualified version:
13. But we believe, and most scholarly journals agree, that the first person is appropriate on two occasions.
The trick is not to hedge so often that you sound uncertain or so rarely that you sound smug.
■ A first-person I or we is also appropriate when it’s the subject of a verb naming an action unique to you as the writer of your argument. Verbs referring to such actions typically appear in introductions (I will show/argue/prove/claim that X) and in conclusions (I have demonstrated/concluded that Y). Since only you can show, prove, or claim what’s in your argument, only you can say so with I:
14. In this report, I will show that social distinctions at this university are …
On the other hand, researchers rarely use the first person for an action that others must repeat to replicate the reported research. Those words include divide, measure, weigh, examine, and so on. Researchers rarely write sentences with active verbs like this:
15a. I calculated the coefficient of X.
Instead, they’re likely to write in the passive, because anyone can do that:
15b. The coefficient of X was calculated.
Those same principles apply to we, if you’re one of two or more authors. But many instructors and editors object to two other uses of we:
■ the royal we used to refer reflexively to the writer
■ the all-purpose we that refers to people in general
For example:
16. We must be careful to cite sources when we use data from them. When we read writers who fail to do that, we tend to distrust them.
Finally, though, your instructor decides. If he flatly forbids I or we, then so be it.
Once you understand how readers judge what they read, you know how to write clear prose, but also why so much of what you must read seems so dense. You might struggle with some writing because its content is difficult. But you may also struggle because the writer didn’t write clearly. This next passage, for example, is by no means the thickest ever written:
15a. Recognition of the fact that grammars differ from one language to another can serve as the basis for serious consideration of the problems confronting translators of the great works of world literature originally written in a language other than English.
But in half as many words, it means only this:
15b. Once we know that languages have different grammars, we can consider the problems of those who translate great works of literature into English.
So when you struggle to understand some academic writing (and you will), don’t blame yourself, at least not first. Diagnose its sentences. If they have long subjects stuffed with abstract nouns expressing new information, the problem is probably not your inability to read easily but the writer’s inability to write clearly. In this case, unfortunately, the more experience you get with academic prose, the greater your risk of imitating it. In fact, it’s a common problem in professional writing everywhere, academic or not.
Another bit of standard advice is Choose the right word.
1. Choose the word with the right meaning. Affect doesn’t mean effect; elicit doesn’t mean illicit. Many handbooks list commonly confused words. If you’re an inexperienced writer, invest in one.
2. Choose the word with the right level of usage. If you draft quickly, you risk choosing words that might mean roughly what you think they do but are too casual for a research report. Someone can criticize another writer or knock him; a risk can seem frightening or scary. Those pairs have similar meanings, but most readers judge the second in each pair to be a bit loose.
On the other hand, if you try too hard to sound like a real “academic,” you risk using words that are too formal. You can think or cogitate, drink or imbibe. Those pairs are close in meaning, but the second in each is too fancy for a report written in ordinary English. Whenever you’re tempted to use a word that you think is especially fine, look for a more familiar one.
The obvious advice is to look up words you’re not sure of. But they’re not the problem; the problem is the ones you are sure of. Worse, no dictionary tells you that a word like visage or perambulate is too fancy for just about any context. The short-term solution is to ask someone to read your report before you turn it in (but be cautious before accepting too many suggestions; see 7.10). The long-term solution is to read a lot, write a lot, endure a lot of criticism, and learn from it.
Before you print out your report, read it one last time to fix errors in grammar, spelling, and punctuation. Many experienced writers read from the last sentence back to the first to keep from getting caught up in the flow of their ideas and missing the words. Do not rely solely on your spell checker. It won’t catch correctly spelled but incorrectly used words such as their/there/they’re, it’s/its, too/to, accept/except, affect/effect, already/all ready, complement/compliment, principal/principle, discrete/discreet, and so on. If you’ve had that kind of problem, do a global search to check on such words. See chapter 20 for more on spelling.
If you used a lot of foreign words, numbers, abbreviations, and so on, check the relevant chapters in part 3 of this manual.
Finally, if your report has a table of contents that lists titles and numbers for chapters and sections, be certain that they exactly match the corresponding wording and numbering in the body of your report. If in your text you refer back or forward to other sections or chapters, be sure the references are accurate.
Some students think they should worry about the quality of their writing only in an English course. It is true that instructors in courses other than English are likely to focus more on the content of your report than on its style. But don’t think they’ll ignore its clarity and coherence. If a history or art instructor criticizes your report because it’s badly written, don’t plead But this isn’t an English course. Every course in which you write is an opportunity to practice writing clearly, coherently, and persuasively, a skill that will serve you well for the rest of your life.
If one thing is harder than starting to write, it’s stopping. We all want another day to get the organization right, another hour to tweak the opening paragraph, another minute to … you get the idea. If experienced researchers know one more crucial thing about research and its reporting, it’s this: nothing you write will ever be perfect, and the benefit of getting the last 1 percent or even 5 percent right is rarely worth the cost. Dissertation students in particular agonize over reaching a standard of perfection that exists largely in their own minds. No thesis or dissertation has to be utterly perfect; what it has to be is done. At some point, enough is enough. Give it up and print it out. (But before you turn it in, leaf through it one last time to be sure that it looks the way you want it to: look at page breaks, spacing in margins, positions of tables and figures, and so on.)
You might now think your job is done. In fact, you have one last task: to profit from the comments on your returned paper.