Though I love reading blogs, I sometimes read them from behind the eyes of someone who makes their living with language. Writing great copy is important, and much like a special effects artist who has a difficult time losing themselves in a film, it is sometimes hard for me to ignore the nagging little details that keep a writer’s words from speaking as clearly as their author intended.

It isn’t punctuation or lack of mechanics that bother me. I’m a writer, but even I think English is a bit confounding, carrying more exceptions than rules. Yet there is, I believe, an essential truth to blogging. Blogging is about communication. Effective communication is reliant upon clear ideas and lucid delivery.

A writer must situate their words in a way that makes the reader feel like they are adjacent to the writer, listening to every word while never once wanting to interrupt. These seven steps can help you take your copy from crusty to clean.

1) Be willing to ramble before you can wrangle. Your thoughts might lie in a tangled mess, but you must get them out of your head and onto the screen before you can start sorting. The first draft is not a time to measure perfection, it is a time to write. Editing comes next. If you can construct your thoughts with perfection the first time through, then perhaps that is an indication the value of your content isn’t quite as high it could be. Revision while writing is a pillow on the face of pure thought.

2) Edit your words as though someone else wrote them. Every word isn’t golden and word count doesn’t matter. It is the density of ideas that will make your writing remarkable. 250 or 1250, make every word count. I promise you, there is fat in your first draft. Cut it.

3) Not just lean, but strong as well. You’re off the treadmill, now head to the weight room where a few key changes can pack a bit of power in your prose. Stay far from weak words, opt instead for vocabulary with muscle. Us, are, were, it – these words cast with abandon will cause your copy to grow timid. Strong words are the scaffolding to a strong voice. Own the action. Use active language rather than passive.  For some examples of correct passive versus active language, check out this page.

4) Don’t attempt to sound smarter than you are. I would guess every beginning writer does this. I know I did, but I drank from a bottle when I was a baby too. My general rule, never use words I wouldn’t use in regular conversation. Stephen King has a law I rather like. “If you had to use a thesaurus to find it, you’re using the wrong word.” Artfully arranged and long winded are not the same thing.

5) Read out loud. I don’t publish a word on any of my blogs until I’ve read the copy out loud. I read my highest profile stuff to my wife, but I’ve no qualms about splitting the silence of an empty room in exchange for incredible copy. Invariably, my mouth catches much of the minutia my mind’s inclined to miss.

6) Print it out. My writing partner, David prints his stories while editing, a trick he learned in the newsroom. Reading on the computer screen can become tiresome and many of us tend to gloss over mistakes that would stick out in print. Print your copy, mark it up, then dip in for one last online edit.

7) Stay True. Be yourself. Like it or not, everyone else is spoken for. If you try to write for an audience of everyone, you will be lucky to be writing for an audience of anyone. Writing to please a fickle public is a slippery slope with jagged teeth of slate at the bottom.

Collective Inkwell Community Question: Do any of these seven steps ring true to you? What steps would you suggest for getting your copy squeaky clean?

Sean Platt is a ghostwriter and father, who believes life’s better with the right words.

Writing wisdom is for wee ones too! Are you happy with your child’s writing? Sign up for early information on Writer Dad’s upcoming Writer’s Workshop, and learn how you can help give your child a limitless life.

~Jules Renard

I‘m a writer. It makes no difference that I first picked up my pen just a year and a half back; a woman is no less a mother when her milk first begins to flow.

Writing, to me, is the music I make for a dance of my own design; the legacy I will one day leave of the life I lived. I am a writer because it is a sterling affair, each of those moments when I find the sound of swirling syllables speaking in a symphony born from the abyss of my soul; a tangle of thought unraveled upon the page revealing my inner self and then placing it on display for the reader as I stand back both bashful and proud.

I’m a writer because I mourn the brevity of our existence and am selfish enough to wish I might live through the best of my moments more than once. A born writer, I believe, is fortunate to inhabit more than a single existence. One life he lives firmly fixed in the reality swimming before him, along with the million or so versions waiting patiently at the opposite end of his mind’s eye, eager to reveal their own romantic record of yesterday.

Now the knowledge that I am a writer swims through my senses, deeply submerged and rarely rising for breath. I ponder at where it might take me. What worlds will I create and who will my mind manufacture to fill them?

For a writer, imagination is the only horizon.

For the dozen years preceding my life with a pen, I made my living with flowers. Perhaps it was there where I learned to manipulate beauty and discover I could take something simply beautiful and shape it into something breathtaking.  I was fortunate to find myself in a shop with no shortage in its selection.  I discovered my favorite flowers, combined them with colors that echoed, and found that nature itself was merely a suggestion.

I long to write like that.  I would never wish to labor in a standard store with only two flowers in a half dozen colors, I want to wander the aisles among roses of every color.

Primary colors coalesce for the rainbow, but the remaining hues paint the world that lies beneath.

I want to write where every single sentence brings me closer to the essential truth of what makes me who I am, painting my life with the tip of a pen or stroke of a key, rinsing memory in vivid color, then carving a future from the words I create.

I’m a writer.  Now, for the first time, I have a place to messy my desk with paper and pen and pull the best from inside me.

Welcome to the Inkwell.

Sean