A lesson in e-mail

“Dad, I just sent you an email I’m working on. Will you read it over for me? Remember the company I work for is selling its business at the Lexington location?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the manager asked me to write an e-mail message to send to the customers to let them know about the ownership change and that they’ll be working with a new company, not us. Could you check it to make sure it’s grammatically correct and makes sense?”

“Sure.”

“I need it in an hour.”

“Okay. I’ll go open it now.”

I read the message, which was about 8 paragraphs long. The tone was friendly, and the message was clear. The grammar was fine. I started to insert a few comments suggesting a few minor things. Then I read it again. It needs work on organization, I thought. It’s 8 paragraphs, which is a lot to ask someone to read in e-mail, but it didn’t flow—wasn’t well connected. Each paragraph was about a new topic, but there were no transitions. It needed something.

I stopped inserting comments and decided to rewrite it in a question-and-answer format, like FAQs. I created about 5 questions, and then I revised and moved the text around to form answers. For example, after an introduction announcing the change in ownership, I inserted a question:

Can I still have my event at the Lexington location?

Yes, . . .

Will the policies and prices be the same?

Yes, . . .

And so on. I was feeling quite proud of myself, and I sent the rewrite. I called the next day to ask how things had gone.

“Thanks, dad. Everyone liked the Q & A format, but they decided we should call each customer instead of sending an email.”

__________

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Rhetoric: Three more techniques

In this post I add three more techniques to the three introduced in a previous post. Here I describe anaphora, epistrophe, and chiasmus, three techniques of classical rhetoric—the effective and persuasive use of language. You’ll likely recognize these techniques, and you might be using the first two already. My understanding of them comes from Ward Farnsworth, Classical English Rhetoric (2010).

Anaphora means repeating words at the beginnings of successive phrases or clauses.

Standard: There is no doubt who committed the crimes: Mitchell hid under the stairs, assaulted Ms. Latham, and stole her purse.

Anaphora: There is no doubt who committed the crimes: Mitchell hid under the stairs, Mitchell assaulted Ms. Latham, and Mitchell stole her purse. (Repeats the subject)

Another before-and-after example:

Standard: The Debtor repaid his wife, friends, and brother-in-law—but not the Bank.

Anaphora: The Debtor repaid his wife, repaid his friends, and repaid his brother-in-law—but he did not repay the Bank. (Repeats the verb)

Anaphora creates emphasis through what Farnsworth calls a “hammering effect.” Farnsworth at 16. The repeated words are likely to be noticed and remembered. Id. The repetition also creates expectations—the reader expects the pattern to be continued, so disrupting the pattern becomes an opportunity for emphasis. Id. For example, in the sentence about the Debtor, repeating the verb repaid sets up the expectation that it will continue, but then the verb changes to did not repay, emphasizing the contrast.

Epistrophe means repeating words at the end of successive phrases or clauses.

Standard: The defendant followed, stalked, and harassed Mr. Taylor.

Epistrophe: The defendant followed Mr. Taylor, stalked Mr. Taylor, and harassed Mr. Taylor. (Repeats the object)

Another before-and-after example:

Standard: Mitchell illegally purchased, modified, and sold the rifle.

Epistrophe: Mitchell’s purchasing the rifle was illegal, his modifying the rifle was illegal, and his selling the rifle was illegal. (Repeats the predicate)

Epistrophe also uses the hammering effect, but Farnsworth suggests it’s a bit more subtle because “the repetition does not become evident until each time a sentence or clause ends.” Id. at 32. Added to the hammering effect is the placement of the repeated words at the end—a natural place of emphasis: “The end is emphatic because it makes the last impression.” David Lambuth, The Golden Book on Writing 26 (1983). Thus, epistrophe adds hammering repetition to the emphasis that naturally falls on a concluding word or phrase.

Chiasmus means repeating words or phrases in reverse order. It’s also described as inverted parallelism or an ABBA pattern. A famous example: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.” See Farnsworth at 97. The key words are country and you, repeated in this order: country-you-you-country.

Standard: It was the defendant who stalked Mr. Taylor, not the other way around.

Chiasmus: It was the defendant who stalked Mr. Taylor, not Mr. Taylor who stalked the defendant.

Another before-and-after example:

Standard: Although the Bank has negotiated in good faith with the Borrower, the Borrower has not reciprocated.

Chiasmus: Although the Bank has negotiated in good faith with the Borrower, the Borrower has not negotiated in good faith with the Bank.

Chiasmus, according to Farnsworth, “calls attention to itself.” Id. at 98. I agree. It’s a technique that might, in formal legal writing, come off as oratorical, pretentious, literary. And literary style isn’t always right for legal writing because legal writing isn’t always like literature. Legal writers should use chiasmus with caution: “You should write at most one or two in a document . . . .” Ethel G. Romm, A Chiasmus and Contrast Can Help You Win, 70 A.B.A.J. 158, 158 (1984).

Yet a simple chiasmus can be quite memorable:

State boundaries cannot extend beyond the national boundary. . . . That would mean Texas was not annexed to the U.S., but that the U.S. was annexed to Texas. Id.

 

Caution is appropriate for all rhetorical techniques, but I recommend adding these three to your persuasive-writing toolkit.

_____

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Rhetoric: Three Simple Techniques

This post describes polysyndeton, asyndeton, and isocolon, three simple techniques of classical rhetoric—the effective and persuasive use of language.

Don’t let the fancy names put you off: you’ll recognize these techniques, and you might be using them already. My own understanding of them comes from Classical English Rhetoric, by Ward Farnsworth (the Texas Law Dean) and from The Elements of Legal Style, by Bryan A. Garner.

Polysyndeton means using conjunctions between all the items in a series.

Standard: The flag is red, white, and blue.

Polysyndeton: The flag is red and white and blue.

Thus, with polysyndeton, you might do this:

The background check showed charges of vandalism and gambling and fraud and assault.

To improve your writing, you must study and practice and accept critique.

In legal writing, polysyndeton can supply two types of emphasis. First, “the result is to emphasize every one of the items singly . . . .” Farnsworth, at 128. The extra conjunctions invite readers to think of the items separately rather than as a group. Second, polysyndeton tends to emphasize the sheer number of items in the list. Id.

Compare

The defendant’s responses were hasty, terse, and superficial.
with
The defendant’s responses were hasty and terse and superficial.

 

Asyndeton means omitting the conjunction, typically before the last item in a series.

Standard: The flag is red, white, and blue.

Asyndeton: The flag is red, white, blue.

With asyndeton, you might do this:

The background check showed charges of vandalism, gambling, fraud, assault.

To improve your writing, you must study, practice, accept critique.

Asyndeton creates emphasis because omitting the conjunction is “irregular and unexpected.” Farnsworth, at 147. Although asyndeton can improve the rhythm of some sentences, Farnsworth also acknowledges it can seem “mannered.” Id. at 148. He’s right. He might have said “literary” or even “showy.” In general, legal writers should use asyndeton cautiously.

Compare

The defendant’s responses were hasty, terse, and superficial.
with
The defendant’s responses were hasty, terse, superficial.

 

Isocolon means a series of similarly structured phrases, clauses, or sentences of the same length. It’s a form of parallelism.

Standard: The flag is red, white, and blue.

Isocolon: The flag is red; it is white; it is blue

Isocolon: The flag is red. The flag is white. The flag is blue.

Using isocolon, you might do this:

The background check showed charges of vandalism, charges of gambling, charges of fraud, and charges of assault.

The background check showed charges of vandalism; it showed charges of gambling; it showed charges of fraud; it showed charges of assault.

To improve your writing, you must confront your faults, practice your skills, and study others’ writing.

Using isocolon can “produce pleasing rhythms,” according to Farnsworth, and allows writers to use a parallel structure to reinforce parallel substance. Id. at 74. But consider this example:

The defendant’s responses were inappropriate. They were hasty. They were terse. They were superficial.

The tone begins to sound oratorical, as Farnsworth notes. Id. So although isocolon is appropriate for legal writing, it’s more common in speech.

In fact, all three techniques appear more frequently in speeches and literature than in formal legal writing. Outside legal writing, all three can be used in more sophisticated ways than shown here. Still, I recommend adding these techniques to your toolkit for persuasive legal writing. And as with any form of rhetoric and persuasion, be wise: before resorting to classical rhetoric, make sure your writing is clear, direct, correct.

Clichés in legal writing

George Orwell once wrote, “Never use a metaphor, simile, or other figure of speech you are used to seeing in print.” It’s from an essay called “Politics and the English Language,” a wonderful piece he wrote in 1946 and that’s worth reading today. But what did he mean?

Perhaps it’s as simple as “Be original” or as we might say today, “Be fresh.” But I’ve always taken it to mean “Avoid clichés.”

Avoid them like the plague.

The advice isn’t original with me; it’s everywhere. Of course, we can say that about clichés: They’re everywhere, and that’s the key reason to avoid them. They’re over-used, hackneyed, and stale. For example, in her excellent book, Woe is I, the writing expert Patricia O’Conner says, “If a phrase sounds expressive and lively and nothing else will do, fine. If it sounds flat, be merciless.” O’Conner at 168.

Notice she said be merciless and didn’t say bite the bullet. It’s on her list of 88 clichés to avoid, including

can of worms

fall through the cracks

last but not least

tip of the iceberg

Legal-writing experts give the same advice. Ross Guberman, a legal-writing teacher and the author of Point Made, came out against some clichéd legal terms on his website. He particularly attacked these four:

second bite (at the apple)

inextricably (linked)

slippery slope

bald (assertions)

By the way, Guberman’s piece on the subject is called Avoid These Clichés Like the Plague.

Bryan Garner, too, opines that clichés proliferate excessively in legal writing. As he asks in Garner’s Dictionary of Legal Usage,

Why are dissents so often vigorous, objections so often strenuous, evidentiary hearings always full blown, and exceptions invariably carved out?

Echoing O’Conner, he advises, “If one finds oneself writing or talking in ready-made phrases, it is time to draw back and frame the thought anew.” Id. at 165.

Two other legal-writing experts, Tom Goldstein and Jethro Lieberman, say a cliché “broadcasts the writer’s laziness.” The Lawyer’s Guide to Writing Well at 119. They recommend we all

Get down to brass tacks and, with both feet on the ground, face the music and turn over a new leaf. Gird your loins at these wolves in sheep’s clothing, give clichés the short shrift, and from now on, avoid them like . . .

Well, you know how it ends.

My colleague Gretchen Sween captured the paradox of clichés nicely on her blog, True Complaint. Once, these expressions were

so vivid, so fresh that everyone wanted to use them . . . . [but] . . . because everyone wanted to use them, the expressions soon lost their sheen. They turned trite and shabby. They became linguistic pariah, indicating a failure to think outside the box.

But must we banish all clichés? Or can legal writers turn clichés to their advantage?

Maybe.

O’Conner acknowledges that a clever twist on a cliché can make readers smile. For example, she says, “bankruptcy is a fate worse than debt.” O’Conner at 165.

One legal writer, D’Ann Rasmussen, makes a case for putting a spin on clichés in her article, A Fresh Look at Clichés, 5 Scribes J. Leg. Writing 152 (1994–1995). Naturally, she’s mostly against clichés—she rightly opposes using them for emphasis: “Their main virtue is brevity, not forcefulness.” Id. But she believes “even the most used up cliché can gain new life at the hands of a skilled writer” and offers these examples:

tried and true becomes tried and untrue

sadder but wiser becomes gladder but wiser

through thick and thin becomes through thin and thin (attributed to Henry Thoreau).

I’m not sure I agree. You should play it by ear. It goes without saying that attempts at cleverness and humor often fall flat. As a pancake.