I used to think good writing meant fancy words. My freshman year, I had a thesaurus open in another tab at all times. "Use" became "utilize." "Help" became "facilitate." "Show" became "demonstrate." My professor wrote on one paper: "Your vocabulary is impressive. Your clarity is not."
I was offended at first. I thought she didn't appreciate my sophisticated prose. Then I read my paper out loud. I sounded ridiculous. I sounded like someone who swallowed a dictionary and then threw it back up. That was a wake-up call. I started writing like I talk. Short sentences. Plain words. No thesaurus. My next paper came back with a note: "Much clearer. Your voice comes through now." I got an A-. Not an A, but close.
Now I have a simple rule: if I wouldn't say it out loud, I don't write it. My grades have gone up. My stress has gone down. Good writing isn't fancy. It's clear.
The best compliment I ever got was from a professor who said my paper "read like a human wrote it." That's the goal. Not to sound smart. To sound human.
I was offended at first. I thought she didn't appreciate my sophisticated prose. Then I read my paper out loud. I sounded ridiculous. I sounded like someone who swallowed a dictionary and then threw it back up. That was a wake-up call. I started writing like I talk. Short sentences. Plain words. No thesaurus. My next paper came back with a note: "Much clearer. Your voice comes through now." I got an A-. Not an A, but close.
Now I have a simple rule: if I wouldn't say it out loud, I don't write it. My grades have gone up. My stress has gone down. Good writing isn't fancy. It's clear.
The best compliment I ever got was from a professor who said my paper "read like a human wrote it." That's the goal. Not to sound smart. To sound human.
