Short and Sweet

That most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do.

-          Thomas Jefferson

This past week, Twitter made it official: after considering increasing the limit to 10,000 characters, tweets will remain at 140 characters or less. You don’t tweet, you say? Well, that’s not really what this blog is about, anyway! But the Twitter decision does point to a useful subject: brevity.

Now, just keeping it short does not make it good. Twitter is also the perfect demonstration of that. Keeping communication concise is a good idea, no matter the medium. But getting the message across is always the challenge, no matter what you are doing. In this day of the shortened attention span and relentless distractions, it’s important to get to the point. I realize that writing about brevity is dangerous, too. So, why am I rambling on? Here are six reasons brevity is the best policy:

1. People will only read or listen for so long before their minds wander or something better comes along.
2. The great truths are simple. The more profound the concept, the more likely it can be distilled down to just a few words. Proverbs work this way. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush” says volumes in 11 words.
3. We all know that shorter is better. It’s harder to accomplish, and lazy writers will waste words. Good writing is mercilessly edited.
4. We are no longer writing essays that have a required length. Most of us are not earning a grade with our writing any more, and quantity does not equal quality.
5. When we write simply, we avoid the risk of sounding like we don’t really know what we’re talking about.
6. We are saying to the reader/listener, “I know your time is valuable. I won’t waste it.”

Here is a sampling of some very good blogs/articles on the subject with excellent examples.

http://have-a-word.com/why-brevity-is-important/

http://lifehacker.com/5909543/write-less-say-more-the-power-of-brevity

http://copymatter.com/embracing-brevity/

Now, go forth and be brief!

Silence Is... Rare!

Years ago, I went to the Ontario Science Centre and visited the Quiet Room. It was a place which blocked out virtually all outside noise. In fact, once you made your way through the maze of baffles and sound-absorbing materials, the only sound you heard was the blood pumping through your ears! It was almost too quiet! In fact, quite a few people exited as fast as they could; it was so disturbing for them.

What happens when things get quiet around you? Do you turn on the TV or music to fill the void? Do you find it uncomfortable? Intuitively, I think most of us really understand that silence is a threatened commodity. Finland developed their newest marketing theme to take advantage of something that most felt was a disadvantage: it’s really quiet there. The theme is “Silence, Please.”  Visitfinland.com is putting its money on silence as a destination, as a luxury.

We are bombarded with sound continuously. Someone even coined the term “noise pollution” back in the 60s. At the same time, we seek out our own private sanctuaries, through noise-cancelling headphones or silent retreats or libraries. Much research has been done into sounds – of all kinds – and their effects on the brain. But only by accident have the researchers realized that the silence between the sounds can be equally - even more - valuable. When we are focused on specific sounds, our brains slow down the background scanning that goes on all the time. When we get into a quiet place, we can reflect on our experiences, develop our personalities, solve problems. One study showed that the brain creates more neurons during silence than when stimulated by sensory inputs.

Psychologists are concerned about our noisy culture and, in particular, its impact on young people. The constant input provided by smart phones, music, conversation (in-person, remote, or virtual), and life in general keep adolescents from the self-reflection that is so essential for development of identity and the discovery of meaning.  In her book, Alone Together, and a TED Talk, MIT prof Sherry Turkle points out that, ironically, we connect to avoid feeling alone; but we need to be alone in order to really connect.

Does silence scare you? Do you crave it? Either way, we should all make the effort to find some time and someplace where we really can turn off the stimulation and spend time with our thoughts. As the old saying goes, “Sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits.” It’s all good!

"Take A Letter"? - NO! - Give A Letter! - Part 2

Last week, I wrote about the fact that I had written a letter to my daughter – something I hadn’t done for a painfully long time. This week, I continue making the case for the return of the lost art of letter writing.

The internet is chock full of lists of the wonderful things about letters. Here are a few selected items:

• They can share emotions and deep thoughts.           
• They have a permanence and can be re-read and treasured.
• They are thought-out and not rushed; they are more of an event and more of a struggle than an email.
• They give the gift of time – it takes time to write them and it gives the recipient the freedom to decide if, when and how to reply.
• They build relationships.
• They have impact; they show somebody cares.
• They can’t be sent by accident!

When I began to think about it, I realized that I’ve experienced many of these things. I keep cherished letters from my long-deceased father in a special place. I discovered unknown relatives in England by blindly replying to a letter sent by my great-great uncle to my grandmother. I had no idea if anyone at that address knew of the family, but they did. And an entirely new branch on the family tree was revealed to us.

In her blog, “Notes From a Dreamer,” Bobbie Ann Pimm writes,

“I long to receive a three page, heart-rending, soppy letter, filled with words carefully chosen and eternal.”

I add my voice to the growing throng: let’s rediscover the art of letter writing. Make a vow to write a real, handwritten letter. There is someone who would love to get a letter from you.

"Take A Letter"? - NO! - Give A Letter!

I wrote a letter to my daughter the other day. Really. I mean pen and paper and envelope and stamp. I was almost surprised I remembered how to do it. It’s something I am trying to do more often. My first letter was one I enclosed with a little gift after she moved to New York City for a new job. I wanted to encourage her in the transition. I had to send the package anyway, and it was a little naked without a note of some kind.

Then I realized just how different a letter is from an email. Or a text. Or a phone call. Or anything else. So I did what any good American would do: I googled it. It turns out lots of people have come to the same realization that I did. Many of them much sooner and much more completely than me. Letter writing is special in many ways.

The U.S. Postal Service estimates that the average American home receives only one personal letter about every two months. This is obviously a far cry from 100 years ago, when the personal letter was the most common form of distant communication. But have we really advanced the art of communication with our free tools of instantaneous and abbreviated communication?

In his book, To the Letter: A Celebration of the Lost Art of Letter Writing, Simon Garfield writes,

For my children, with Facebook and smartphones, emailing is just too much trouble. In other words, our current ways may already be history. What if we find that our standard substitute for letter-writing is but a temporary and illusory bridge to not writing at all?

Let’s hope we can escape that depressing prophecy. Garfield goes on to describe the many, many benefits of a good, old-fashioned handwritten letter.

Catherine Field, in “The Fading Art of Letter Writing,” in the New York Times, said,

A good handwritten letter is a creative act, and not because it is a visual and tactile pleasure. It is a deliberate act of exposure, a form of vulnerability, because handwriting opens a window on the soul in a way that cyber communication can never do. You savor their arrival and later take care to place them in a box for safe keeping.

Next week, I’ll continue this case for letter writing.