Rhetoric for the masses

State­ment: I love writ­ing. This shouldn’t come as a sur­prise to any­one by now, even if you’re only vis­it­ing this site for the second or third time. I’ve always loved writ­ing — even as a seven-year-old boy in primary school, scrawl­ing excess­ively long fantasy stor­ies in my exer­cise books, my tongue pok­ing out of the corner of my mouth as I sank deep into child­hood con­cen­tra­tion. A couple of years ago, when I finally began to dis­cover all the vari­ous aven­ues for writ­ing that exist on the inter­net, my thirst for com­mu­nic­at­ing using the writ­ten word became even stronger. In that sense, the net has been a hugely valu­able outlet.

If I find myself unable to write for a couple of days, it almost drives me to dis­trac­tion; con­versely, the very act of near-incessant writ­ing often has the same effect. It’s a wor­ry­ing sign when I find myself sit­ting on the bus and passing the time by scratch­ing vari­ous words on the free space inside a used book of post­age stamps, or when I find myself flick­ing idly between three very dif­fer­ent pieces of writ­ing and typ­ing parts of each of them without giv­ing it a second thought.

Yet I’m also aware that the ease of pla­cing one’s words on the net almost inev­it­ably pro­duces short-term con­tent — there are scraps, lines and para­graphs here, there and every­where. Indeed, this par­tic­u­lar piece of text will dis­ap­pear into my archives in four days, when it reaches the bot­tom of the screen, and who’s going to see it then? So what remains elu­sive, and unfor­tu­nately only sur­faces occa­sion­ally, is the longer-term pro­pos­i­tion — the piece of writ­ing that has a begin­ning, a middle and an end, and in which some­thing hap­pens along the way. I know that it’s there (in fact, I know that there’s more than one example of this float­ing around in my brain some­where) — it’s just a ques­tion of coax­ing it out. That’s another matter.

How­ever, with all these words buzz­ing in and out of my head and refus­ing to be silenced, I should remem­ber to occa­sion­ally step back and con­sider the prac­tical meth­od­o­logy behind the mad­ness. I’m not talk­ing about sol­ipsistic navel-gazing over the emo­tional issues of writ­ing (I’ve done enough of that here already), but real, prac­tical ques­tions about what I’m say­ing and how I’m say­ing it. Not for­get­ting the ques­tion of why the hell I’m say­ing it too. In fact, every­one who is con­sumed by the writ­ing bug should be doing this — and prob­ably more fre­quently than any of us choose to do so at the moment.

That’s why I was inspired and stunned in equal meas­ure by the Keith Water­house art­icle that Tom pos­ted on plasticbag.org. Water­house is a Fleet Street colum­nist (as well as a nov­el­ist and dram­at­ist) from the old school, most likely to be found wear­ing a crumpled jacket and sweat­ing over a mech­an­ical type­writer. He is from an era when writ­ing was undoubtedly less tran­si­ent than it has become in the digital age. How­ever, his 25 tips on writ­ing a news­pa­per column do, as Tom points out, offer some sali­ent point­ers for any­one writ­ing for the web (includ­ing much maligned web­log writers). It’s been said time and time before — but if you only read one thing today, make it this article.

There is so much to seize upon in what Water­house says, although I firmly believe that he ham­mers home the most vitally import­ant point first:

It’s not so much what you say as the way that you say it. Your column must have a dis­tinct­ive voice, to the extent that if your byline were acci­dent­ally dropped, your read­ers would still know who was writ­ing. If your style isn’t instantly recog­nis­able, what you have there is not a column but a signed article.”

In all I write, I hope and aspire to that goal. I believe — said with just a hint of false mod­esty — that I occa­sion­ally achieve it too.

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