1) If a phrase comes to you easily, look at it with deep suspicion
If a phrase comes to you easily, look at it with deep suspicion — it’s probably one of the innumerable clichés which have woven their way so tightly into the fabric of travel writing that it takes a special effort not to use them. Also resist straining for the luminouis lyrical phrase to describe the wondrous waterfall. At best it will make you sound artificial — unlike yourself — and at worst pompous. Strive for fresh words and images.
–from On Writing Well (1976)
2) If in doubt, keep your words and sentences short
Short is always better than long. Short sentences are better than long sentences. Short words are better than long words. Don’t say currently if you can say now. Don’t say assistance if you can say help. Don’t say numerous if you can say many. Don’t say facilitate if you can say ease. Don’t call someone an individual [five syllables!]; that’s a person, or a man or a woman. Don’t implement or prioritize. Don’t say anything in writing that you wouldn’t comfortably say in conversation. Writing is talking to someone else on paper or on a screen.
–from “Writing English as a Second Language” (2009)
3) Make your sentences stronger by eliminating words
Every word that serves no function, every long word that could be a short word, every adverb which carries the same meaning that is already in the verb, every passive construction that leaves the reader unsure of who is doing what — these are the thousand and one adulterants that weaken the strength of a sentence.
–from On Writing Well (1976)
4) Anglo-Saxon-derived words work better in English than flowery Latinate ones
The English language is derived from two main sources. One is Latin, the florid language of ancient Rome. The other is Anglo-Saxon, the plain languages of England and northern Europe. The words derived from Latin are the enemy—they will strangle and suffocate everything you write. The Anglo-Saxon words will set you free. How do those Latin words do their strangling and suffocating? In general they are long, pompous nouns that end in -ion—like implementation and maximization and communication (five syllables long!)—or that end in -ent—like development and fulfillment. Those nouns express a vague concept or an abstract idea, not a specific action that we can picture—somebody doing something. Here’s a typical sentence: “Prior to the implementation of the financial enhancement.” That means “Before we fixed our money problems.”
–from “Writing English as a Second Language” (2009)
5) Knowing you will write about a place gives you a framework to experience it
The act of writing organizes how I spend my time when I arrive in a place. It gives me information, concentrates my thoughts, and opens doors I wouldn’t otherwise be allowed to knock on.
–from “The Road to Timbuktu: Why I Travel” (1997)
6) The best travel writing is about what the place brings out of a writer
What raises travel writing to literature is not what the writer brings to a place, but what a place brings out of the writer.
–from They Went: The Art and Craft of Travel Writing (1991)
7) Writing can be a way of finding understanding and solace
There are many good reasons for writing that have nothing to do with being published. Writing is a powerful search mechanism, and one of its satisfactions is that it allows you to come to terms with your life narrative. It also allows you to work through some of life’s hardest knocks—loss, grief, illness, addiction, disappointment, failure—and to find understanding and solace.
–from “How to Write a Memoir” (2015)
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