I remember standing in line in third grade when Jason Lee informed me that he knew the longest word in the English language. I was immediately impressed, and without hesitation I asked him what the word was. “Antidisestablishmentarianism,” he answered quite quickly. I then asked him to repeat it slowly so that I would be able to rattle off the behemoth of a word. Little did I know, this was the “grandfather of all nominalizations,” according to Helen Sword in her article “Zombie Nouns.” I asked him what it meant and he said that he did not know, but he knew it was the longest word. I remember being frustrated by this. It was nice to be able to recite the word, but I wasn’t able to use it – at least not correctly. When we are learning to read our progress is partially measured by the difficulty of the words we can read, which means reading longer words is celebrated. This feeds into the common misconception that writing requires big words to be sophisticated.
I would imagine that plenty of teachers have received papers where it is clear that the student used a thesaurus to look up an alternative, more intelligent sounding word. This problem of overwriting is addressed in Sword’s article. She argues that nominalizations “cannibalize active verbs, suck the lifeblood from adjectives and substitute abstract entities for human beings.” I agree with Sword; using large words just for the sake of it prevents clarity and makes the writer come across as lofty. Sword puts it eloquently when she states that, “At their best, nominalizations help us express complex ideas: perception, intelligence, epistemology. At their worst, they impede clear communication.” When used improperly, nominalizations are a nuisance and they are distracting. Sword highlights the importance of finding the balance when choosing words. But why is finding this balance so hard? Because a lot of it is intuitive – and intuition is impossible to teach.
A person can read two versions of a sentence that get the same point across but still have a distinct preference based on the style and construction of the sentence. It is important to remember how crucial verbs are. Choosing a vibrant, descriptive verb will always sound better than throwing a bunch of nominalizations together. For example, ‘I have concluded’ sounds less convoluted than ‘I have come to the conclusion.’ Joseph M. Williams and Joseph Bizup echo this idea in lesson 3 of Style: Lessons in Clarity and Grace. They write, “Readers will think your writing is dense if you use lots of abstract nouns” (32). This should act as a fair warning seeing as one would want their writing to be clear rather than abstract.
These questions of how one should write cannot be properly addressed without discussing audience. Sword states that academics as well as “lawyers, bureaucrats and business writers” love nominalizations. A pompous sounding writer risks losing their audience, which defeats part of the purpose of writing – to communicate your ideas to others. This issue is echoed in an article written by Joshua Rothman titled ‘Why is Academic Writing so Academic?’ Rothman argues that academic writing is ambiguous in that “it’s supposed to be dry but also clever; faceless but also persuasive; clear but also completest. Its deepest ambiguity has to do with audience.” Rothman attributes some of the characteristics of academic writing to the shrinking and increasingly specific audience. We know that it is important to write with audience in mind, so can we blame academics for writing for theirs? The article goes on to discuss how demand for academics in the humanities has decreased, which only further shrinks the pool that is their audience. But one cannot ignore the other issue raised in the article, which is that of exclusivity. By writing at the level academics do, they are inadvertently excluding a large part of the population.
I attended a lecture at the University of St. Thomas; it was a panel of four professors from various disciplines responding to Thomas Pfau’s book Minding the Modern: Human Agency, Intellectual Traditions, and Responsible Knowledge. The lecture was interesting, though admittedly hard to follow at times. A man raised his hand during the question and answer portion and asked Dr. Pfau if he could step out of his academic speak and address the undergraduates about the importance of what his book discusses for the humanities. There were a fair number of undergraduates there, and the professor was being asked to adjust to his audience.
Dr. Pfau rose to the challenge and after taking a moment to consider the request he was able to adapt to the needs of his undergraduate audience. His words were extremely insightful and I took the most away from this question and answer session. He explained that the professions of lawyers and doctors and accountants are noble and necessary, but that he would argue we have a slew of them in our society who didn’t actually want to become lawyers and doctors and accountants. He attributes this to parents and other social factors surrounding the view of the humanities. I can only assume that he addresses these issues in his book but in a much more academic tone. This is all well and good, but I can’t help but ask myself if I were to sit down and attempt reading the massive work if I would glean from it all that I did from hearing him speak candidly on the subject? This is an example of why it is important to account for audience. Dr. Pfau did not dumb down his speech, but rather he simply clarified it. He was still eloquent and articulate.
However, choosing the simplest word isn’t exactly the solution either, because there is still the issue of style. We want our writing to be clear, yet elegant, tight, yet, beautiful. In other words, we expect a lot from our writing and as editors we expect a lot from our writers. I argue that we, as writers and editors, must strive for a balance between overly simplistic and exceedingly fluffy writing.
It would be inaccurate to argue that all academic writing is horrid and unreadable. There are many who have mastered elegant academic writing. Amy Einsohn does this in The Copyeditor’s Handbook. For example,
As several of the preceding examples illustrate, it is best to phrase a query in terms of what readers need, want, or expect. Queries worded in this way serve to remind the author that the primary purpose of a publication is to inform, persuade, or entertain and delight readers, and that all editorial decisions should be made with the readers’ interests at heart (44).
This passage is beautifully written and is clear yet sophisticated prose. We should all strive to have intelligible writing that strikes the balance like Einsohn’s.
It is important to be thoughtful when choosing words. Mr. Keating, Robin Williams’ character in Dead Poets Society, warns us to, “avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose.” This moment is another example of finding the balance. Keating advocates for finding the right word, which can be a daunting task. Exhausted has more connotations than very tired does, and it is these feelings beyond the literal definition of a word where we find the beauty.
We must combine the advice from these various readings when considering our own writing. The process of editing requires reflection. When editing your own work you must reflect on it and be able to separate yourself. As pointed out in our readings, this can be especially difficult for writers. Consider your audience. Are they going to understand what you are trying to say? Because they can only read what you actually say.
So, back to the question of how to achieve the perfect balance in your writing. Ask yourself if your verbs are active or passive. Don’t let nominalizations “cannibalize” your verbs. Ask yourself if the connotations of the word you chose match the message you are trying to convey. Did you choose that word because it sounds good or because it sounds right? Big words may sound impressive, but they sound less impressive than a “simple” word when used incorrectly. We should strive for clarity with style. Your writing should embody your voice and have your own personality within it rather than attempting to sound intellectual. A clear, organized, well-written thought is all we can hope for as writers. We are all in search of the perfect word, and that is an ambiguous quest; and as Sword reminds us, none of us wants our writing to “feel like trudging through deep mud.”
Dead Poets Society. Dir. Peter Weir. Perf. Robin Williams. Touchstone, 1989.
Einsohn, Amy. “Basic Procedures.” The Copyeditor’s Handbook a Guide for Book Publishing and Corporate Communications, with Exercises and Answer Keys. 3rd ed. Berkeley: U of California, 2006.
Rothman, Joshua. “Why Is Academic Writing So Academic? – The New Yorker.” The New Yorker. Condé Nast, 20 Feb. 2014. Web. 13 Feb. 2016. <http://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/why-is-academic-writing- so-academic>.
Sword, Helen. “Zombie Nouns.” The New York Times. The New York Times Company, 23 July 2012. Web. 12 Feb. 2016. <http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/07/23/zombie- nouns/?_r=1>.
Williams, Joseph M., and Joseph Bizup. Style: Lessons in Clarity and Grace. New Jersey: Pearson Education, 2014.