Useful, clear information design begins with the content, and content often means words. The first rule of comprehensible words is clear, concise writing that speaks to the readers’ needs, understanding level, and preferences.
In case you think content and writing aren't your problem, please consider this: The practice of information design doesn't let you off the words hook. Think of writing as essential cross-training, because the most valuable information designers develop is skills in both writing and visual design. At the very least, they understand how words, pictures, and design interact with one another.
What's more, these valuable designers work effectively with writers because they have mutual respect for the others’ contributions. They see the content as the core of the information-design project, not just as something to pour into their layout. They read the content, because they know that's the best—and usually only—way to know how to present it effectively. They develop the confidence to speak up when something's unclear. They recognize good writing, and they aren't afraid to suggest a headline. And the rarest but most valuable designers even write well.
Beyond reading the content in your projects, also read the guidelines in this chapter and in books and Web sites about clear writing. Consider attending technical or editorial writing courses or workshops. And rate the clarity of the writing you encounter every day—in manuals, articles, memos, for example. Then think about how to improve it.
Clear, useful writing begins with knowing the subject at hand, then conveying what's essential about it to the audience. The writing must answer readers’ questions clearly, concisely, and in the order readers are likely to have them. So, like good design, clear writing also involves listening to and observing your audience members.
For example, find out what your audience members already know and what they need to know. Such research will help you deliver just the information they need and can understand—and you'll avoid drowning them in everything you've got. Consider your own experience as an audience member. Let's say you've already picked out a computer you want to buy; now you just want to compare prices and guarantees. But the company forces you to plow through a ton of information to find what you need to know, which takes up a lot more time than you wanted to spend.
In this case, clear content probably means almost no writing—just headings, and maybe a price-comparison table. It doesn't mean having to learn about the company, or about the history of computers, or even about the service plan. Make that other information available for people who want it, but keep it from getting in the way of what most people tend to want first or most.
Also find out your audience members’ preferred language because of course you can't even begin to connect with your audience members if you don't speak their language. In some cases, that also might mean speaking more than one language within the same project. Some publications accomplish that feat by assigning alternate paragraphs to each language; others assign facing pages.
Still other publications, such as the one in English and French on the facing page, switch languages seamlessly by printing the whole message in one language, then in the other. It avoids favoring either language or cluttering readers’ path, because each language comes “first” with its own “front cover.” All readers must do to find their preference is flip the book to the other end and upside down. (Readers won't even need to turn the book upside down if one of the languages runs right to left, such as Arabic.)
Listening to your audience might also include finding out their comfort level with professional jargon (“inside” or technical words that are used by a particular group or industry). Guidelines for clear writing often advise against using jargon, but if a professional audience expects it, that's a guideline to ignore. (In fact, ignore or modify any guideline that doesn't work for your particular audience or situation.)
But the guideline would've helped in the case of a particular software company. A previous version of its Web site stopped potential buyers at the door by asking them to identify themselves as belonging to one of three listed categories, including “enterprise user.” Presumably, consumers who are in that category know it, but given the potential overlaps of the two other categories (“home office” and “small business”), other consumers might have wondered whether it applies to them. There was no easy way to find out. But the term is so familiar to the company's employees, they don't see it as jargon.
How do you know what terms audience members use and know? Ask them. If you've got a Web site, you can also track the audience's search terms.
So when you write, combine what you know about your audience with what you know about almost any audience. In writing information, rather than novels or short stories, assume almost all audiences want clarity. That's where these general guidelines for clear writing come in.* Keep them in mind when you read, write, and design.
Make the sentence's subject the actor; make it act on the verb. In most cases, also put the stated or implied subject at or near the beginning of the sentence. In the guideline, which is itself in the active voice, the subject is the implied “you” at the beginning: “[You] favor the active voice.”
By contrast, the passive-voice version of the same guideline—“The active voice is to be favored”—is indirect and unclear. It takes the emphasis away from the actor; in this case, the passive voice fails to specify who should favor it. And it relies on a weak form of the verb.
Use of the passive voice has been defended in certain cases, such as when the writer doesn't know who the actor is, when the audience doesn't need or want to know, or when there are too many actors to name (as in this sentence). And organizations tend to use passive voice when they don't want to name themselves as the actor (not that they're fooling anyone): “An additional 125 employees will have to be let go.”
A more acceptable reason for the occasional use of passive voice is to focus on the acted-upon or the action, not the actor, as here: “In the study, 2,000 students were injected with the flu vaccine.” That construction calls attention to the number and type of test participants. The active form, on the other hand—”In the study, the nursing team injected 2,000 students with the flu vaccine”—calls attention to the injectors.
And always eliminate the newsletter perennial “A good time was had by all.” Translate it to active voice this way: “Everyone had a good time.”
Better still, make your writing more informative by describing the event and letting the readers decide whether it was good. Paint a clear pic ture for readers who couldn't attend, acting as their eyes and ears. To do so, be objective, give details, and maybe add quotes from people who attended.
Make each sentence just long enough to make its point. But to achieve the perfect sentence length, you don't have to count words. Instead, watch for sentences that look long, and shorten them or cut them into two sentences. If you're still not sure if a sentence is too long, read it aloud. It's too long if you have to take a breath while you read it. We mentally “speak” what we read silently; what daunts the ear daunts the eye and the mind.
(Reading aloud is also a good test of paragraph rhythm; you'll hear awkward constructions, such as too many too-short sentences, which could sound—and be—choppy.)
How to shorten? One way is to use the active voice, as noted above. A few more guidelines also apply:
Begin most sentences with a subject, verb, and object (like this one; the subject is the implied “you”). You won't insult your audience's intelligence by writing simple sentences (unless they're all in the “see Spot run” category). Your intelligent but busy audience will appreciate sentences that deliver content quickly and easily rather than getting in the way.
Short and simple, yes; incomplete, no. You've just read an example of what to avoid: a sentence fragment that's more than a word or two long. Here's another example in the first three words: “Clear information design. It begins with …”
This verbless form has little place in informational writing (unless it's a single word, such as yes, no, or alas) because it tends to leave readers wondering if they missed something. So leave sentence fragments to advertisers, who love them. (Here's the irritating—yet admittedly memorable—tagline of a whole-grain bread brand from years past: “It's not hard. To taste great.”)
If you follow some standard definitions of a paragraph (a complete thought or five-to-seven sentences), you'll produce rambling paragraphs. Instead subdivide it at a logical break so that it extends no longer than an inch and a half or two inches. If that length permits only one sentence, consider shortening the sentence. You also might need to rethink your overall typeface, point size, or column width.
Avoid indicating when you can show or point out; procuring, obtain, or receive when you can get; and informing or notifying when you can simply tell. Every extra syllable and stodgy-sounding word can delay or even interrupt your message's delivery.
Instead of: | Use: |
require assistance | need help |
request | ask |
provide or offer | give |
regardless of | no matter what |
necessary | needed |
allows to or permits to | lets |
the majority | most (or often better yet, give the actual number) |
How much is much? How big is big? And how old is old? Journalists learn to avoid using relative adjectives, because (being relative) the words mean different things to different people based on their frame of reference. For example, people tend to expand their perspective of young as they age or fat as they expand; consider the newspaper article about four dancers the writer referred to as “middle-aged” even though one of the dancers was twenty-nine. Clarify your meaning with a number (the actual age or the weight) or a comparison to something your audience understands (“the length of two train cars placed end to end”). Or show a clear illustration, diagram, or photo of the object next to something that's understandable to your audience.
Pros and cons of readability formulas
The guidelines in this chapter favor short words, sentences, and paragraphs to help your audience absorb and comprehend information. That's also the operating premise of most of the 200+ available readability formulas. Such formulas include the SMOG (Simple Measure of Gobbledegook) Formula, the Fry Readability Graph, the Gunning FOG Test, the Flesch-Kincaid Formula (available in Microsoft Word), and Forcast (which applies to forms and other materials that don't require sustained reading). Other formulas, including Dale-Chall, Spache, and Powers-Sumner-Kearl, specialize in elementary-or secondary-school textbooks.
The formulas typically measure a writing sample to determine how many years of schooling the reader needs to understand it. Their accompanying guideline often is to write instructional or business reading materials at a lower grade level than the audience can handle. A seventh-or eighth-grade reading level often is considered ideal, even for an audience that's highly educated. To write at that general level, limit words with three or more syllables, sentences with thirty or more words, and paragraphs with more than three sentences (such as this one).
You might run some of your writing through one of the formulas occasionally if you need a reminder to control length, if you want to objectively compare two samples, or if you simply find comfort in numbers.
The trouble with formulas
Using formulas doesn't mean your work is finished, or necessarily even started, because:
You'll find another good adaptation of the SMOG readability formula, but without the tone and design features, at www.med.utah.edu/pated/authors/readability.html. You'll also find more about the relative merits of the formulas in an article by Keith Johnson on his Web site: www.timetabler.com/reading.html.
Also make sure you know the precise meaning of the words you use. Often-confused words include:
Weigh every word for its value to the sentence; kill any words that don't contribute. So avoid redundancies (such as “future” or “advance” plans), and strip wordy sentences to the bone. For example: “You want to make sure that you evaluate weigh every single word you write for its intrinsic value to the sentences you write in your projects; eliminate kill any words that don't contribute meaning to the sentences.”
In general, use familiar, simple words except where only more complicated words will do. And avoid technical terms and industry jargon unless your audience expects them.
Sometimes you need jargon to tell your audience members you speak their language. But even in that case, your audience probably also includes newcomers to the industry or the materials. For those readers, define the terms in a glossary. By pulling the definitions out of the text, you help people who need the definitions without forcing people who don't need them to trip over them. In print, put the glossary near the text, on every page the terms appear. On a Web site, link those terms to their meaning.
Wherever you refer to a thing, refer to it by the same word. Switching to a different word (maybe for the sake of variety) might cause the reader to wonder whether the meaning changed, too. A case in point is the Washington, D.C., parking ticket. One side instructs recipients, “Write your tag number and the ticket number on your check or money order to ensure proper credit.” So if you want to avoid a fine, you'll look on the other, filled-out side for that very “ticket” number. But there you'll find only a “citation” number.
Nor will you find your “tag” number, only a “license” number. But unlike the citation number, at least it's yours. So you probably won't mistake it for the vehicle identification number, which also is on the ticket. Such differences won't challenge people who read English fluently. But not every driver is fluent, especially in Washington, which boasts one of the most diverse populations in the United States.
The moral of the story is at least twofold: Use terms all audience members are likely to use, expect, and understand, and use them consistently.
Known as parallel construction, this guideline applies to situations such as items in a series. Present each item in the same way. So consider a series of bulleted items or subheads (as in this chapter) that each begin with an imperative verb—use, limit, favor—and have a direct object. Construction would cease to be parallel if, say, one of them began instead with its gerund form, as in limiting.
Begin to convey the idea that you think of audience as individuals, rather than as a faceless crowd, by calling audience members “you.” You might also help to encourage the audience to think of your client in human terms, not a giant depersonalizing megalith, by referring to the organization (when it makes sense to refer to it at all) as “we.” Better still, you might refer to the writer as “I” along with the writer's name as signature or byline. You'll often help to establish a sense of accountability by substituting “we” or “I” in articles or letters.
Make every heading tell readers why they should read what the heading introduces. Give it a verb and a “what's in it for me?” benefit. And underscore every piece of artwork with a caption that connects the artwork with the corresponding text. These high-profile elements will encourage your audience to read the text.
Avoid issuing commands in writing to your audience unless it's essential to do so for safety, regulatory, military, or legal reasons. For example, avoid saying “don't” as in “don't do this or that,” or telling audience members what they “must” or “must not” do. Especially avoid the authoritarian tone that so many companies use with their employees. To paraphrase the Golden Rule, communicate with others—your members, customers, clients, employees, colleagues, or constituents—as you would want them to communicate with you.
Ironically, the term for nouns made from verbs—nominalization—is itself a nominalization. (But nominalize isn't much of a verb, which is why you don't see “avoid nominalizing” in the heading.) Buried verbs often depend on passive or helping verbs, as in “The decision of the boss was to hire her.”
Instead, use the verb: “The boss decided to hire her” or (depending on the point of the sentence) maybe simplify further to “The boss hired her.” You can usually identify verbs masquerading as nouns when you see these endings: -sion, tion, -al, -ance, -ence, -ment, -ure.
A sentence such as “The New York design publication budget planning subcommittee meeting came to order on Thursday evening” uses up its noun budget in one sentence. “What noun goes with what?” confused readers might wonder, because the string hides their relationships. Take the nouns apart for readers, as in (depending on the meaning): “The New York subcommittee met on Thursday to plan the budget for the design publications.”
Let's define a misplaced modifier by example: “While driving to the vet, Mark's dog jumped out of the car.” Such structures change meaning and amuse readers to distraction. In this case, the dog seems to be driving, because she, not Mark, is the subject. So make it clear who's doing what: “While Mark was driving to the vet, his dog jumped out of the car.”
Go ahead and split infinitives (“to boldly go …”). You probably work with or for at least one grammar stickler. But there's no need to sweat the small and ridiculous stuff or engage in great debates about commas and such. You can go along with the editorial stylebook or the sticklers unless their rules sacrifice clarity (what's grammatically correct isn't always what's clear).
In general, put punctuation and words where they contribute to clarity, and remain consistent at least within a project. (Unless your audience is made up of writers and editors, they're not likely to recall if you use the serial comma from project to project.)
Avoid ending punctuation except question marks (where they're needed) in headings. In particular, avoid exclamation marks everywhere. Content rarely demands the implied excitement or warning that the marks convey. (If you find any in this book, consider whether they belong. If not, do as the book says, not as it does.) In most cases, let the power of the words and the typography do the job.
Speaking of words, here's a related idea: If your business or client uses a phone word, such as 1–800-BUY-BOND, to make the phone number more memorable, also include the numbers it corresponds to. Although a well-chosen phone word is easier to recall than a phone number, it's harder to dial because of the design of most phone keypads. There's typically only one large number but three or four smaller-sized capital letters to a key on the phone keypad. Test it yourself by using only the phone word the next time you want to call a business that has one.
(A phone keypad designed for phone words—which would exist if everyone used alphabetical phone addresses—would feature a full-alphabet keyboard, such as a Blackberry's. Or, building on the model of a traditional stationary phone keypad, it might take up more space with three or four smaller alpha keys directly beneath each number key.)
* Many of these guidelines are adapted from Guidelines for Document Designers, a publication from the Document Design Center. (Why is that sentence in the passive voice? I adapted them, but I hope you infer the “I” throughout the book, except for anything I've attributed to someone else. Explicit references to the author are distracting, as in this case, especially when they begin the sentence.) For more writing wisdom, go to the classic The Elements of Style by Strunk, White, and (in later editions) Angell, or to a book on writing for the Web. The more books you look at, the more variation—and often disagreement—you'll find among the writers. Let what's clear to your audience be your ultimate authority.
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