Brevity.

Take a 2-ton boulder and drop it on that paragraph. Compress it. Turn that untidy rambling into a concise, compact piece. Then slice it, chisel it, carve it.

I like sentences that hold more meaning than words.

Rewriting sentences until they’re crisp as potato chips and stripping words without losing their essence — I love that. Although I’m not a skillful editor, I enjoy wiping clutter and making words clearer.

I believe words must sink into their readers’ heads like water seeps in the soil — without making them try too hard.

I don’t edit the posts on my blog mercilessly, and I hit publish when the draft feels just alright. But once in a while, I experiment with words to make my writing pithier.

Here’s a list of reasons:

• I don’t want to waste my readers’ time. Serving half-baked stuff feels bad and dishonest.
• I don’t want to do the lazy-writing. Rewriting and editing are the hard jobs I’d rather not avoid.
• Breaking complacency. I know it in my heart when I don’t try hard, so I shake things up to overcome monotony.
• Reaching the benchmark. Leveling up, raising the bar, and hunger for improvement helps me keep going, slowly.

Writing briefly is a skill I crave.

I don’t know a lot about grammatical rules or even obsess over them as some bloggers might. I do what feels right — my process. I write, I fix any gaps I find in my writing, and I write again.

So how does brevity help?

Brief words get read

That’s what I know.

Longwinded words get ignored, gather dust, and confuse readers. Our job is to serve pleasant and easy stuff that our readers can digest.

But how do you stay brief?

You’d learn — with patience.

It wouldn’t happen by merely reading books or clicking on a bunch of Grammar Girl articles — but you’d learn as you practice, over time.

While I haven’t become some brevity lord, I’ve come a long way from being a pathetic writer to someone who can make a point. I’ve realized my words are clearer now — and my writing doesn’t suck as much as it used to when I had started.

How did that change?

In the following examples, I’d give you a quick look at the difference between brief writing and verbose writing.

Here’s are some quick examples (and tips):

Example One:

Normal: They will come back after the concert ends.

Edited: They’ll return after the concert ends.

Lesson: Select alternative words.

Example Two:

Normal: She was very pretty and her eyes shone brightly.

Edited: She was charming and her eyes twinkled.

Lesson: Find better words.

Example Three:

Normal: If you want to meet George, send him a text tomorrow.

Concise: Text George to meet him tomorrow.

Lesson: Shorten it.

Example Four:

Normal: Try to keep your paragraphs small.

Edited: Keep your paragraphs small.

Lesson: Be direct.

Example Five:

Normal: He hit him mercilessly.

Edited: He punched him until he crushed his bones.

Lesson: The goal is better words.

Example Six:

Normal: The diamond ring was found by Sally.

Edited: Sally found the diamond ring.

Lesson: Use the active voice.

Are we cool?

It takes a while.

But what matters, in the long run, is constantly questioning (How I capitalize after a colon?), understanding why you love certain work (Why do Oscar Wilde’s stories stand out?) and practicing until it becomes a habit (Let’s edit the draft again).

Be inquisitive and pay attention to details. You’d realize that better writing uses better language. Eventually, you’ll gather your own ways of decluttering words.

For example, I dumped some words I liked in a word file to spruce up my vocabulary. I also experimented by picking random internet articles and asking myself “Could this have been more concise?”, and I pay close attention to the phrases or blog posts I love.

The next time you write a draft, take a 2-ton boulder and drop it on your draft (not literally though) and see what happens.