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
PART III—STYLE—MAKING THE LETTER READABLE—CHAPTER 9
The letter writer looks to words, phrases and sentences to make the little impressions on the reader as he goes along. The letter as a whole also has to make a SINGLE IMPRESSION—clear-cut and unmistakable. The correspondent must use this combination shot-gun and rifle. To get this single rifle-shot effect a letter has to contain those elements of style that HOLD IT TOGETHER; there must be a definite idea behind the letter; the message must have a unity of thought; it must be logically presented; it must have a continuity that carries the reader along without a break, and a climax that works him up and closes at the height of his enthusiasm