Chapter 15

SPECIFIC STATEMENTS _and_ CONCRETE FACTS _are the substance of a business letter. But whether that letter is read or not, or whether those statements and facts are_ FORCEFUL _and_ EFFECTIVE, _is dependent upon the manner in which they are presented to the reader--upon the "style." What "style" is, and how it may be acquired and put to practical use in business correspondence, is described in this chapter_

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Letter writing is a craft--selecting and arranging words in sentences to convey a thought clearly and concisely. While letters take the place of spoken language, they lack the animation and the personal magnetism of the speaker--a handicap that must be overcome by finding words and arranging them in sentences in such a way that they will attract attention quickly, explain a proposition fully, make a distinct impression upon the reader and move him to reply. Out of the millions of messages that daily choke the mails, only a small per cent rise above the dead level of colorless, anemic correspondence.

The great majority of business letters are not forcible; they are not productive. They have no style. The meat is served without a dressing. The letters bulge with solid facts, stale statements and indigestible arguments--the relishes are lacking. Either the writers do not realize that effectiveness comes only with an attractive style or they do not know how a crisp and invigorating style can be cultivated. Style has nothing to do with the subject matter of a letter. Its only concern is in the language used--in the words and sentences which describe, explain and persuade, and there is no subject so commonplace, no proposition so prosaic that the letter cannot be made readable and interesting when a stylist takes up his pen.

In choosing words the average writer looks at them instead of into them, and just as there are messages between the lines of a letter, just so are there half-revealed, half-suggested thoughts between the letters of words--the suggestiveness to which Hawthorne referred as "the unaccountable spell that lurks in a syllable." There is character and personality in words, and Shakespeare left a message to twentieth-century correspondents when he advised them to "find the eager words--faint words--tired words--weak words--strong words--sick words--successful words." The ten-talent business writer is the man who knows these words, recognizes their possibilities and their limitations and chooses them with the skill of an artist in mixing the colors for his canvas.

To be clear, to be forceful, to be attractive--these are the essentials of style. To secure these elements, the writer must make use of carefully selected words and apt figures of speech. Neglect them and a letter is lost in the mass; its identity is lacking, it fails to grip attention or carry home the idea one wishes to convey.

An insipid style, is responsible for much of the ineffectiveness in business letters. Few men will take the time to decipher a proposition that is obscured by ambiguous words and involved phrases. Unless it is obviously to a man's advantage to read such a letter it is dropped into the waste basket, taking with it the message that might have found an interested prospect if it had been expressed clearly, logically, forcibly.

The first essential for style is clearness--make your meaning plain. Look to the individual words; use them in the simplest way-- distinctive words to give exactness of meaning and familiar words to give strength. Words are the private soldiers under the command of the writer and for ease of management he wants small words--a long word is out of place, unwieldy, awkward. The "high-sounding" words that are dragged in by main force for the sake of effect weigh down the letter, make it logy. The reader may be impressed by the language but not by the thought. He reads the words and misses the message.

Avoid long, unfamiliar words. Clothe your thoughts in words that no one can mistake--the kind of language that men use in the office and on the street. Do not make the reader work to see your point; he is busy, he has other things to do--it is your proposition and it is to your interest to put in that extra work, those additional minutes that will make the letter easily understood. It is too much to expect the reader to exert himself to dig out _your_ meaning and then enthuse himself over _your_ proposition.

The men who write pulling letters weigh carefully every sentence, not only pruning away every unessential word but using words of Anglo-Saxon origin wherever possible rather than words of Latin derivation. "Indicate your selection" was written as the catch line for a letter in an important selling campaign, but the head correspondent with unerring decision re-wrote it--"Take your choice"--a simpler, stronger statement. The meaning goes straight to the reader's mind without an effort on his part. "We are unable to discern" started out the new correspondent in answering a complaint. "We cannot see" was the revision written in by the master correspondent--short, concise, to the point. "With your kind permission I should like to say in reply to your favor"--such expressions are found in letters every day--thousands of them. The reader is tired before the subject matter is reached.

The correspondent who is thinking about the one to whom he is writing starts out briefly and to the point by saying, "This is in reply to your letter," or, "Thank you for calling our attention to, and so forth." The reader is impressed that the writer means business. The attitude is not antagonistic; it commands attention.

Letters are unnaturally burdened with long words and stilted phrases, while in conversation one's thoughts seek expression through lines of least resistance--familiar words and short sentences. But in writing, these same thoughts go stumbling over long words and groping through involved phrases.

Proverbs are sentences that have lived because they express a thought briefly in short, familiar words. Slang becomes popular because of the wealth of meaning expressed in a few words, and many of these sayings gradually work their way into respectability-- reluctantly admitted into the sanctuary of "literature" because of their strength, clearness, adaptability.

While short words are necessary for force and vigor, it may be very desirable at times to use longer and less familiar words to bring out the finer shade of meaning. A subtle distinction cannot be ignored simply because one word is shorter than another. "Donate" and "give" are frequently used as synonyms, but "give" should not be used because it is a short word when "donate" expresses the meaning more accurately. As a usual thing, "home" is preferable to "residence," but there are times when the longer word should be used. "Declare" and "state," "thoroughfare" and "street"--there are thousands of illustrations on this point, and while the short, Anglo-Saxon word is always preferable, it should not be used when a longer word expresses more accurately the thought which the writer wishes to convey.

Many letter writers think that these rules are all right for college professors, journalists and authors, but impractical for the every-day business correspondent. Some of the most successful companies in the country, however, have recognized the importance of these very points and have adopted strict rules that give strength and character to the letters that are sent out. For example, here is a paragraph taken from the book of instructions issued by a large manufacturing concern in the middle west:

"Don't use a long or big word where a short one will do as well or better. For example: 'Begin' is better than 'commence'; 'home' or 'house' better than 'residence'; 'buy' better than 'purchase'; 'live' better than 'reside'; 'at once' better than 'immediately'; 'give' better than 'donate'; 'start' or 'begin' better than 'inaugurate.'"

The selection of words is not the only thing that the writer must consider. The placing of words to secure emphasis is no less important. The strength of a statement may depend upon the adroitness with which the words are used. "Not only to do one thing _well_ but to do that one thing _best_--this has been our aim and our accomplishment." In this sentence, taken from a letter, emphasis is laid upon the word "best" by its position. The manufacturer has two strong arguments to use on the dealer; one is the quality of the goods--so they will give satisfaction to the customer--and the other is the appearance of the goods so they will attract the customer. This is the sentence used by a clever writer: "We _charge_ you for the service quality--we _give_ you the appearance quality." The strength comes from the construction of the sentence throwing emphasis on "charge" and "give."

"Durability--that is our talking point. Other machines are cheaper if you consider only initial cost; no other machine is more economical when its durability, its length of service is considered." Here the unusual position of the word "durability," thrown at the beginning of the sentence, gives an emphasis that could not be obtained in any other way. And so the stylist considers not only the words he uses but he places them in the most strategic position in the sentence--the beginning.

In the building of a climax this order of words is reversed since the purpose is to work up from the weakest to the strongest word or phrase. The description, "sweet, pure and sanitary," gives emphasis to the sanitary feature because it comes last and lingers longest in the mind.

After the study of words, their meaning and position, the writer must look to completed sentences, and the man who succeeds in selling goods by mail recognizes first of all the force of concise statements. "You can pay more but you can't buy more." This statement strikes home with the force of a blow. "We couldn't improve the powder so we improved the box." There is nothing but assertion in this sentence, but it carries conviction. Not a word is out of place. Every word does duty. The idea is expressed concisely, forcibly. The simplicity of the sentence is more effective than pages of prosaic argument.

Here is a sentence taken from a letter of a correspondence school: "Assuming that you are in search of valuable information that may increase your earning capacity by a more complete knowledge of any subject in which you may be interested, we desire to state most emphatically that your wages increase with your intelligence." This is not only ungrammatical, it is uninteresting. Contrast it with the sentence taken from a letter from another correspondence school: "You earn more as you learn more." It is short, emphatic, thought producing. The idea is clearly etched into your mind.

Short sentences are plain and forceful, but when used exclusively, they become tiresome and monotonous. A short sentence is frequently most striking when preceding or following a long sentence--it gives variation of style. Following a long sentence it comes as a quick, trip-hammer blow that is always effective. And there are times when the proposition cannot be brought out clearly by short sentences. Then the long sentence comes to the rescue for it permits of comparisons and climaxes that short sentences cannot give.

It is the long, rambling sentences that topple a letter over onto the waste basket toboggan. But the sentence with a climax, working up interest step by step, is indispensable. By eye test, by mechanical test, by erasure test and by strength test, Orchard Hill Bond makes good its reputation as the best bond on the market for commercial use. There is nothing tiresome about such a sentence. There is no difficulty in following the writer's thought.

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THE LETTER THE VEHICLE WORDS SHORT SAXON SPECIFIC INDIVIDUAL PHRASES VIVID NATURAL FIGURES IDIOMS SENTENCES CLEAR FORCEFUL CLIMATIC POLISHED PARAGRAPHS SHORT UNIFORM LOGICAL ORDERLY THE LOAD IDEAS GRAPHIC TECHNICAL CLEAR COMPLETE STATEMENTS FACTS PROOFS REFERENCES TESTIMONY EXPLANATIONS SPECIFIC TECHNICAL CLEAR COMPLETE ARGUMENTS LOGICAL CLIMATIC CONCLUSIVE CONVINCING

_There are two elements in every letter: the thought and the language in which that thought is expressed. The words, phrases, sentences and paragraphs are the vehicle which carries the load--explanations, arguments, appeal. Neither can be neglected if the letter is to pull_

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Here is another sentence showing the force to be attained through the use of a long sentence: "Just as the physician may read medicine, just as the lawyer may read law, just so may a man now read business--the science of the game which enables some men to succeed where hosts of others fail; it is no longer enveloped in mystery and in darkness." There is no danger of the reader's becoming confused in the meaning and he is more deeply impressed because his interest has been gained by the gradual unfolding of the idea back of the sentence, the leading up to the important thought.

And after the choice of words, the placing of words and the construction of a sentence comes that other essential element of style--the use of figures of speech, the illustrating of one's thought by some apt allusion. Comparison adds force by giving the reader a mental picture of the unknown, by suggestions of similarity to familiar things. The language of the street, our conversational language, secures its color and expressiveness through figures of speech--the clever simile and the apt metaphor light up a sentence and lift it out of the commonplace.

"Don't hold yourself down," "Don't be bottled up," "Don't keep your nose on the grindstone"--these are the forceful figures used in the letters of a correspondence school. The most ignorant boy knows that the writer did not mean to be taken literally. Such figures are great factors in business letters because they make the meaning clear.

Here is the attention-getting first sentence of another letter: "Don't lull yourself to sleep with the talk that well enough should be let alone when practical salary-raising, profit-boosting help is within your reach." The sentence is made up of figures; you do not literally lull yourself to sleep with talk, you don't really boost profits, you don't actually reach out and grasp the help the letter offers. The figures merely suggest ideas, but they are vivid.

A sales manager writes to the boys on the road regarding a contest or a spurt for records: "Come on, boys. This is the last turn round the track. The track was heavy at the start but if none of you break on the home stretch you are bound to come under the wire with a good record." The salesman will read this sort of a letter and be inspired by its enthusiasm, when the letter would be given no more than a hurried glance if it said what it really means: "Get busy! Keep on the job! Send in more orders." By framing your ideas in artistic figures of speech you bring out their colors, their lines, their fullest meanings--and more than that, you know your letters will be read.

But in the attempt to add grace and attractiveness by some familiar allusion, one must not overlook the importance of facts--cold, plainly stated facts, which are often the shortest, most convincing argument. In the letter of an advertising concern is this plain statement: "Last year our business was $2,435,893 ahead of the year before." No figure of speech, no touch of the stylist could make such a profound impression as this brief, concise statement of fact.

The average correspondent will agree that these are all essential elements of style--his problem is practical: how can he find the right words; how can he learn to put his proposition more clearly; how think up figures of speech that will light up the thought or illustrate the proportion.

To some men an original style and the ability to write convincingly is a birthright. Others have to depend less on inspiration and more on hard work. One man carries a note book in which he jots down, for future use, phrases, words and comparisons that he comes across while reading his morning paper on the way down town, while going through his correspondence, while listening to callers, while talking with friends at lunch, while attending some social affair--wherever he is, his eyes and ears are always alert to catch a good phrase, an unusual expression or a new figure of speech. At his first opportunity a notation is made in the ever-handy memorandum book.

Another man systematically reads articles by Elbert Hubbard, Alfred Henry Lewis, Samuel Blythe and other writers whose trenchant pens replenish his storage with similes, metaphors and crisp expressions.

The head of a mail-order sales department of a large publishing house keeps a scrapbook in which he pastes words, phrases, striking sentences and comparisons clipped from letters, advertisements, booklets, circulars, and other printed matter. Each month he scans the advertisements in a dozen magazines and with a blue pencil checks every expression that he thinks may some time be available or offer a suggestion. It is but a few minutes' work for a girl to clip and paste in these passages and his scrapbooks are an inexhaustible mine of ideas and suggestions.

Another man, after outlining his ideas, dictates a letter and then goes over it sentence by sentence and word by word. With a dictionary and book of synonyms he tries to strengthen each word; he rearranges the words, writes and rewrites the sentences, eliminating some, reinforcing others and devising new ones until he has developed his idea with the precision of an artist at work on a drawing.

The average correspondent, handling a large number of letters daily, has little time to develop ideas for each letter in this way, but by keeping before him a list of new words and phrases and figures of speech, they soon become a part of his stock in trade. Then there are other letters to write--big selling letters that are to be sent out by the thousands and letters that answer serious complaints, letters that call for diplomacy, tact, and above all, clearness and force.

On these important letters the correspondent can well afford to spend time and thought and labor. A day or several days may be devoted to one letter, but the thoughts that are turned over--the ideas that are considered, the sentences that are written and discarded, the figures that are tried out--are not wasted, but are available for future use; and by this process the writer's style is strengthened. He acquires clearness, force, simplicity and attractiveness--the elements that will insure the reading of his letters.

And one thing that every correspondent can do is to send to the scrap-heap all the shelf-worn words and hand-me-down expressions such as, "We beg to acknowledge," "We beg to state;" "Replying to your esteemed favor;" "the same;" "the aforesaid;" "We take great pleasure in acknowledging," and so on. They are old, wind-broken, incapable of carrying a big message. And the participial phrases should be eliminated, such as: "Hoping to hear from you;" "Trusting we will be favored;" "Awaiting your reply," and so on, at the close of the letter. Say instead, "I hope to hear from you;" or, "I trust we will receive your order;" or, "May we not hear from you?"

Interest the man quickly; put snap and sparkle in your letters. Give him clear and concise statements or use similes and metaphors in your sentences--figures of speech that will turn a spot-light on your thoughts. Pick out your words and put them into their places with the infinite care of a craftsman, but do not become artificial. Use every-day, hard-working words and familiar illustrations that have the strength to carry your message without stumbling before they reach their goal.

Making The Letter HANG TOGETHER