Words, words, words…

Bafflegab is a pandemic in the health care industry. Consider the following:

“As our population ages and age-related chronic conditions are on the rise, the right things are happening in terms of the shift in focus away from acute care in hospitals and to care  in the community – this is what many people have said they want – however the government’s reinvestment and our ability to build out capacity in the home and community sector has not yet caught up with the opportunity.”

No, I didn’t make this up. In fact, it’s almost word for word from a document prepared for a national organization.

So where do I start? The misuse of dashes? The run-on sentence? The reading ease measure of 0? (That’s a rating out of 100, by the way.) The grade level of 31? (Last time I checked that wasn’t an option in our education system, even for my perpetual student sons.)

What really has me tearing my hair out is how easy this would be to cure with a little simple non-invasive surgery. Consider the following:

“Our population is aging. Chronic conditions are on the rise. We are shifting the focus away from hospital care to care at home and in the community– what people say they want. But it takes time for resources and capacity to catch up with policy.”

The reading ease score is 69, with a grade level of 6.3. This patient could make a full recovery.

I think IBM is a smart company. I like its tag line, “Let’s build a smarter planet.”

That’s why I was surprised to see a recent magazine ad for IBM with the header “Augmenting Intuition.” It seemed like a mouthful, and I wondered what IBM’s copywriters were thinking of.

The ad consisted of a short case study to show how IBM comes up with good ideas for its customers. When I read further I came across the following sentence: “By integrating predictive analytics, business rules and optimization, decision management solutions from IBM can enable real-time, adaptive decisions.” Reading that sentence made me feel like I was being hit over the head repeatedly. The blows came from the use of so many three-syllable words.

Few things slow a reader as much as the excessive use of three-syllable words. This is recognized by readability tests, such as Flesch-Kincaid, designed to measure the ease of reading a particular text. Microsoft Word includes the Flesch-Kincaid readability test on its spelling and grammar tool.

In the sentence above, 11 of the 18 words are three syllables or more. When I applied Flesch-Kincaid, the reading ease was shown at zero, and the grade level at 21.5 – theoretically much higher than PhD level.

There are situations where you can’t avoid using words with more than three-syllables, such as a list that involves specific names. But in all other situations I have a rule. A three-syllable word on its own is okay unless there’s a shorter word that’s just as good. Two three-syllable words in a row are generally not acceptable – either substitute a shorter word for one, or find a different way to say it. Three three-syllable words in a row are never acceptable – never ever!

Like many people, I love to follow the weather. The language of weather also intrigues me. For example, I wish someone would explain the difference between “variable cloudiness” and “cloudy periods”. I sometimes wonder whether a “partly cloudy” day is less bright than a “partly sunny” day, or if it’s just the mood of the reporter.

These are not differences I ponder for long. But there are times when precise meaning is called for. We live in the lee of Lake Huron, where winter driving can be treacherous. When I’m about to set off under dark skies, the differences between a weather “watch,” “warning,” and “advisory” are important. What I really want is an accurate description of what to expect on the highway.

The U.S. National Weather Service takes these concerns seriously. It is undertaking a project to simplify the jargon and use words that are more precise. For example, rather than notify the public of a “winter weather advisory,” it will “advise caution for snow and blowing snow.” Old language dies hard, however, and many people have indicated a preference for the familiar terms.

I applaud the efforts of the National Weather Service to make weather language more understandable, but I feel that weather reporting is both an art and a science. We were recently in England, and I enjoyed the way they found different ways to explain the same conditions. For example, if you check the current national UK weather report, today will be “fairly cloudy.” Tomorrow, on the other hand, will be “generally rather cloudy.”

The last sentence of the report reads: “Generally, there are no strong signals regarding precipitation, but taking the period as a whole, some areas of the UK will probably end up a little drier than usual for the time of year.” It’s good to be prepared.

This blog is called “Words, words, words.” But that doesn’t mean that we have no respect for the power of non-verbal communication. In fact, we know that it often has more impact than words alone. I was reminded of this during a recent trip to Arizona. Max and I visited a beautiful museum in Phoenix dedicated to the art of indigenous people in the American South West.

I was enchanted by the large collection of kachina dolls, a unique cultural expression of the Hopi and other Pueblo nations. Kachinas are spirit beings central to Hopi culture. The dolls are three-dimensional representations of the various beings, designed to teach children about their culture and beliefs. Kachinas are charming objects that are also remarkably expressive. My favourite was Koshari, the sacred clown, whose purpose is to remind Hopi of acceptable standards of behavior — by breaking all the rules! (I love the chic horizontal stripes of his costume.) You can easily imagine a child having fun with the doll and learning at the same time.

When it comes to two-dimensional communication, the right words married to the right visual elements have the potential to educate, move, inspire and change beliefs and behaviors.

The Internet has changed just about every aspect of our lives, including the words we use.

In the January 19 issue of the Globe & Mail, columnist Doug Saunders challenged the idea held by many foodies that the rising price of quinoa was a bad thing for the South Americans that produce it. The following sentence caught my eye: “Behind the killer-quinoa meme you’ll find three modern fallacies of food.” It was the third time in a week that I had seen the word “meme” in a newspaper or magazine article.

Meme is defined in the Merriam-Webster online dictionary as “an idea, behaviour, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture.” Although the word was coined in 1976 by an evolutionary biologist, you won’t find it in a dictionary more than ten years old. It has come into its own only recently to describe the kind of rapid spread of ideas we see through the Internet.

Another word spawned by the Internet is “monetize.” Although you hear it all the time, you will find in your pre-millennium dictionary that it has a very narrow and technical definition: “to establish as legal tender.” When the Internet came along, “monetize” was picked up as a word to describe the challenge of generating revenue from a website. Now it covers just about any activity that involves making money.

Another new word is “co-create.” You’ll have trouble finding this one in your dictionary. It came into use about ten years ago, when scholars saw how the Internet was making it possible for customers to personalize their experiences with firms in new ways, “co-creating” greater value in the process.

Now “co-create” has become a buzzword, particularly in the public sector. In health care, for example, there is so much co-creating going on that it makes you want to scream. Rather than co-creating, why can’t providers and clients just start working together?

Recently I received an email from a client for whom I was doing some writing. She said that the draft I had prepared had been well received by her client. I wrote back enthusiastically, “Yeah! So glad everything went well with your presentation. Onward and upward.”

And then I paused. Lately I’ve noticed that a lot of people spell that gleeful exclamation “Yay!” And when you think about it,  that makes sense:  I also use “yeah” to capture a lazy affirmative. Using one word for two very different purposes could lead to confusion.

I went looking on the Internet for the correct spelling and soon found myself knee-deep in controversy. There were long disquisitions on the history of “yeah,” which I read was a corruption of “yes,” originally spelled with an h to distinguish it from the more traditional “yea.” “Yea,” in turns goes back to an Old English word. Who knew?

And I hear you ask, “Who cares?” Not me. Sounds like I can continue to use my slightly antiquated “yeah” when I’m feeling very pleased about something, or I could update to “yay” and also be correct. The real delight for me is that some people actually care about these things – English is a living language that people squabble about.

Over the holidays we took our family to a country inn nestled in a lovely valley in Southwestern Ontario. It’s a beautiful spot, and Pat and I have been going there since we were first married 32 years ago.

Over the years the inn has changed hands many times. With every new owner little changes are made. This time I noticed a new sign by the entrance to the hot tub. It read: “Lotions and oils on the skin negatively impact the clarity of the water. Please do not enter the hot tub without taking a shower.”

My first thought should have been, “I better rinse off.” Instead, I thought, “Isn’t there an easier way to say that?”

When we give writing seminars, we teach a number of “habits” that lead to good writing. One of those habits is “Write like you talk, only better.”

Why is it that people who are good communicators face to face often get all stodgy and wordy when they sit down to write? Would a receptionist at an inn say to you with a straight face: “Lotions and oils on the skin negatively impact the clarity of the water”? And then follow with a double negative: “Please do not enter the hot tub without taking a shower”?

Of course not. A receptionist would say something like: “Please help us keep the water in the hot tub perfectly clear. Make sure you take a shower before you use it.” So why not write it that way?

When communications are simple, they are usually much easier to understand. When they are simple and easy to understand, they usually sound more friendly as well. And at a country inn, friendly is a good thing.

Everyone has their own way of celebrating the holiday season. For Max and me, it’s finding a quiet day or two to sink into a Christmas book. Our living room is equipped with two well-lit and comfortable couches in front of a cosy fireplace. On our idea of a perfect day, we spend several hours supine!

This year, I received the latest of Louise Penny’s marvellous detective novels, The Beautiful Mystery. At the heart of the book (don’t worry, no spoilers here) is the mystical quality of Gregorian chant. The writer’s seemingly impossible challenge was to transform an extraordinary aural experience into words on the page.

Here’s one of her evocative passages, describing the effect of the chanting on a troubled soul.

The world seemed very far away. But the music didn’t. It was all around him. Inside and out. Supporting him. The music was plain and simple. The voices in unison. One voice, one song. The very simplicity of the chants both calmed and energized Beauvoir.

There was no chaos here. Nothing unexpected. Except their effect on him. That was completely unexpected.

Something strange seemed to come over him. He felt out of sorts.

And then he realized what it was.

Peace. Complete and utter peace.

Isn’t it amazing how a collection of simple, short words, arranged by a master, can have such a powerful impact?

As 2013 begins, the race for the federal Liberal leadership is heating up. I just saw a letter from one liberal hopeful, who started by saying the New Year was a good time for personal reflection on the past and future.

The second sentence goes on to say: “It is also a time to look beyond our own lives and reflect on our collective responsibility to each other; a time to resolve to pull together to protest injustice and seek ways to strengthen our social and economic fabric.”

The sentence is long and awkward, but the more serious problem is the semicolon plunked down in the middle. The writer felt she needed something stronger than a comma, but a comma would have been the correct choice. The sentence would still be awkward, but at least it would be grammatical.

People have trouble with semicolons. They think of a semi-colon as a pause that’s longer than a comma and shorter than a period. But semi-colons cannot be substituted for one or the other. They come with their own set of very specific rules.

Semicolons can be used between two independent sentence elements, when they are closely related and of equal grammatical weight, and not joined by a conjunction. That sounds complicated and it is. An example helps: “Injustice is relatively easy to bear; what stings is justice.” H.L. Mencken

A semi-colon can also be used between independent sentence elements when the second clause begins with a transitional word such as “however.” As in: “His sore ankle slowed him in getting to the ball; however, he hung on to win the set.”

Another place that semicolons are used is in a list, where each category in the list contains commas. Here’s an example from the American Heritage Dictionary: “The shipment comprises 40 watches, including some discontinued models; 23 gold rings, cased as specified; and 110 pieces of costume jewellery.”

Like many writers, I try to avoid semicolons. My rule is as follows: when I’m looking for punctuation to create or emphasize a pause, I tend to use commas and periods. They do the job in just about every situation. However, I will use semicolons for clarity, as in a list where too many commas simply create confusion.

Over the holidays Max celebrated a special milestone. The highlight of his family birthday party was a song written by his sisters and sung to the tune of “Away in a Manger.”  The very clever lyrics included references to mixed metaphors, elevator speeches, run-on sentences and other topics tackled in our blog over the past year. It got us thinking about the whole process of producing “Words, words, words.”

We published our first post in early March 2012, and since then have posted 67 times. Max and I take turns, each producing one post every week or two. At first we thought it might be difficult to come up with topics, but once we were under way, the ideas kept flowing.

And yes, some people read what we post! We’ve had a number of comments, including some from quite unexpected sources, over the past ten months.

But perhaps the best thing about our blog is the conversations it’s sparked right here at Morden Communications world headquarters. Often we ask one another, “What is that rule again?” or “Why do you do it this way?” Other times, it’s the two of us commiserating about a common error or sharing the delight of great writing. The blog has made us much more aware of the communication process we engage in every day.

Our new year’s resolution? More of the same. We will continue to post on topics that tickle our fancy. If there’s anything you’d like us to tackle, let us know. Happy New Year from both of us.