Eusflat2007 - Fuzzy Logic

european blog for fuzzy logic and technology

 

 

by Philip Yaffe

 

 

“If you don’t know what you are looking for, you are unlikely to find it, even if it’s right in front of your nose.” — Anon

 

 

We all write in hopes that our readers will understand what we are saying with minimum effort and maximum pleasure. But how can we be certain that they will?

 

 

We can’t. However we can greatly improve the odds by abandoning subjective ideas of what constitutes effective writing and replacing them with quasi-objective criteria.

 

 

During my 40-year career, I have relied on three such criteria, or “acid tests”, that have served me very well. Not just for writing myself, but equally for evaluating the writing of others.

 

 

Many people don’t actually do much writing themselves, but frequently may have to critique the writing of others. It is of very little use to tell someone that a text isn’t “good enough”, “interesting enough”, or “just doesn’t feel right”. So work on it. Such fuzzy criticism is not only unhelpful; it can be positively demoralizing.

 

 

I am reminded of the story of a junior executive who presented a document he had written to his superior. He was told, “Make it more interesting”. Being conscientious (and somewhat fearless), he replied: “Sir, this is the best text I know how to write based on the information I have. Unless you tell me exactly what you are looking for, any way l change it will only make it worse.”

 

 

Fortunately, the man’s superior recognized the wisdom of the comment. In other words, in order to critique usefully, it is necessary to be explicit. This is exactly what my three criteria allow you to do

 

 

Actually, it is incorrect to call them “criteria”, because they are more than that. They are fundamental principles in the form of formulas that provide step-by-step instructions for producing recognizably well written texts, whatever the format or subject.

 

 

If you are the originator, they tell you:

1) How to write your text in the first place

2) How properly to edit it when you have finished

 

If you are the critic, they tell you:

1) What the text should contain

2) What needs to be done to improve it

 

 

Before looking at them in detail, let’s first agree what we mean by a well written text. For most people, it has at least two principal characteristics; it must be both “clear” and “concise”.

 

 

Unfortunately, both of these are “weasel words”. They mean different things to different people, as well as different things at different times. This is why we need quasi-objective test, to be certain that these words will mean essentially the same thing to all people all the time.

 

 

There is a third aspect of a well written text called “density”, for which we also have a quasi-test.

 

 

Test for Clarity

According to the Clarity Principle, to be clear a text must do three things:

1. Emphasize what is of key importance.

2. De-emphasize what is of secondary importance.

3. Eliminate what is of no importance.

 

 

In short: Cl = EDE

If you follow the formula, when you evaluate a text (yours or someone else’s), the first thing you should look for is: Do the key ideas fully stand out?

Key ideas are the concepts and conclusions the writer wants the readers to take away from text. Too many writers shy away from the hard work of defining the key ideas. It is far simpler to say that everything is of key importance, so they put in everything they have. However, unless the writer does the job of defining what he really wants the readers to know, they won’t do it for him. They will simply get lost in your text and either give up or come out the other end not knowing what they have read.

Second, check that the text de-emphasizes everything that is of secondary importance. Why? Because if you want readers to recognize and retain the key ideas, then you don’t want them getting lost in the details. Details (information of secondary importance) explain and support the key ideas; they must never overwhelm them.

Finally, you must ruthlessly eliminate everything of no importance. These are bits of information that are neither a key idea nor explain or support a key idea. Nothing in is neutral. Whatever doesn’t add to the text, subtracts from it. And so must be deleted.

Test for Conciseness

 

 

According to the Conciseness Principle, a well written text should be as:

 

1. Long as necessary

2. Short as possible

 

In symbols: Co = LS

 

 

“As long as necessary” means covering all the key ideas you identified under “clarity”, and all the information of secondary importance needed to explain and support them. Note that nothing is said here about the number of words, because it is irrelevant. If it takes 500 words to be “as long as necessary”, then 500 words must be used. If it takes 1500 words, then this is all right, too.

 

 

“As short as possible” means staying as close as you can to the minimum. Not because people prefer short texts. “Long” and “short” are weasel words; in the abstract they have no meaning because what is “long” in one circumstance is “short” in another.

 

 

The important point is: All words beyond the minimum tend to damage clarity. Subconsciously, readers will continually be trying to understand why those words are there. And will be continually failing because they serve no purpose.

 

 

Test for Density

 

 

“Density” is a less familiar concept than clarity and conciseness, but it is equally important. According to the density principle, a text should contain:

 

 

1. Precise information

2. Logically linked

 

 

In other words: D = PL

 

 

Using precise information rather than wishy-washy weasel words aids clarity. For example, if you say it is a “hot” day, what do you mean? One reader might interpret hot as 24° C while another might interpret is as 36° C. However, if you say the temperature outside is 28° C, there is no room for interpretation — or misinterpretation.

 

 

Using precise information also generates confidence, because it tells the reader that the writer really know what he is talking about. This helps to hold the reader’s attention and makes it easier to get key points across.

 

However, precise data (facts) by themselves are insufficient. To be meaningful, data must be organized to create “information”. There are two important tests to apply when converting data into information.

 

 

A. Relevance

 

Is a particular piece of data really needed? As we have seen, unnecessary data damages clarity and ultimately confidence. Therefore, any data that do not either aid understanding or promote confidence should be rigorously deleted.

B. Misconceptions

The logical link between data must be made explicit to prevent readers from coming to false conclusions. Example: A singular occurrence may be misinterpreted as part of a broad pattern; a general policy may be misinterpreted as applying only in specific circumstances, etc.

To ensure that a logical link is clear, the two pieces of data should be placed as close to each other as possible, preferably right next to each other. When data are widely separated, their logical link is masked. If the writer doesn’t make the logical connection, it is unrealistic to expect readers will do so for themselves.

 

 

So there they are — three fundamental “acid tests” for clear, concise, dense writing. Although quasi-objective, these tsts are not a panacea. They require you to think; in fact, they force you to think. And that is their strength, because they guide your thinking to precisely what you should be thinking about.

 

To repeat the adage at the beginning of this article:

“If you don’t know what you are looking for, you are unlikely to find it, even if it’s right in front of your nose.”

 

 

Now you know.

 

 

Philip Yaffe is a former reporter/feature writer with The Wall Street Journal and a marketing communication consultant. He currently teaches a course in good writing and good speaking in Brussels, Belgium. His recently published book In the “I” of the Storm: the Simple Secrets of Writing & Speaking (Almost) like a Professional is available from Story Publishers in Ghent, Belgium (storypublishers.be) and Amazon (amazon.com).

For further information, contact:

Philip Yaffe

Brussels, Belgium

Tel: +32 (0)2 660 0405

phil.yaffe@yahoo.com, phil.yaffe@gmail.com

 



By: Philip Yaffe

About the Author:

Ella

by Philip Yaffe

The absolute, unalterable, incontestable hallmark of a good expository (non-fiction) text is its clarity. Whatever other attributes it may have, if it isn’t clear, it isn’t good, Likewise, if it isn’t good, it isn’t clear.

Clarity being the prime criterion, what possible relationship could there between the absolute nonsense of Lewis Carroll’s poem “The Jabberwocky” (in Alice through the Looking Glass) and good expository writing? A great deal, actually, because “The Jabberwocky” is not absolute nonsense. And that’s its great appeal.

If you have ever read the book or seen the Disney film, you know this poem. But let’s refresh our memories by looking at just the first paragraph.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;

All mimsy were the borogoves,

And the mome raths outgrabe.

Far from being nonsense, each line is meticulously crafted to give the impression that it is saying something serious. In Alice’s own words, “It seems to fill my head with ideas — only I don’t know exactly what they are.”

This is exactly what a good expository text should do. First, present an idea, which of course will be fuzzy until you take the second step, which is to clearly explain it.

Too many expository texts fail to follow this simple two-step procedure. Instead, they either mix an idea together with details, without clearly separating them. Or they give all the supporting details first, with kind of a surprise ending: “Hey, here’s what all of this really means!”

Both approaches are dramatically incorrect.

Not clearly distinguishing key ideas from details means that the key ideas get lost in the details. People are not quite certain what they are supposed to retain from the text, so they retain very little.

Saving the key idea for the end is probably worse. Readers must wade through an ocean of details without understanding their significance, so many will give up before they get to the end. Those that do make it to the end are challenged to go back through the text to better understand the conclusion, which most are unlikely to do.

So once again, the best approach to most expository texts is:

1. Clearly state an idea.

2. Then clearly explain it.

Does “The Jabberwocky” follow this procedure? Yes, but in its own inimitable way.

From the near total nonsense of the first paragraph, it passes to near total understanding in the second paragraph.

“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!

Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun

The frumious Bandersnatch!”

It continues in this near understanding mode throughout the third, fourth, fifth and sixth paragraphs. Only to conclude with the near total nonsense of the first paragraph, which now somehow seems less nonsensical than it did at the beginning.

We shouldn’t stretch this analysis too far, because Mr. Carroll obviously didn’t achieve the number one objective of any expository text - to be perfectly clear. But of course this wasn’t his intention. Unfortunately, many expository writers also fail to achieve the objective, because “clear” is a weasel word, i.e. it means different things to different people. What is clear to you may not be clear to me, and vice versa.

The best way to resolve this problem is to give “clear” a functional definition. A kind of recipe we can apply when writing a text. And a test we can apply to evaluate the text when we have finished. And here it is.

Clarity Principle

In order to be clear, you must do three things:

1. Emphasize what is of key importance.

2. De-emphasize what is of secondary importance.

3. Eliminate what is of no importance

In short, CL = EDE

This is not a perfect solution to the problem of clarity (nothing is), but it comes reasonably close.

First, you identify the key ideas you want to convey and make certain that they are highlighted (primary importance). Second, you explain or defend these key ideas with appropriate supporting information (secondary importance). Finally, you eliminate everything else (no importance). This means rejecting all information that does not support one or more of the key ideas.

As a result, you arrive at a text that is admirably clear, because everything is in its proper place. Your text is also automatically well on the way to being admirably concise, because you have getting rid of everything of no importance. In a first draft, information of no importance can take up as 30 per cent of the text, so by eliminating it you have reduced the length by 30 per cent.

An Illuminating Anecdote

It is not commonly known that Lewis Carroll’s real name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. And in addition to being a superb storyteller, he was also a first-class logician and mathematician.

I discovered this when I was a mathematics student at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA). As part of my studies, I had to take a class in semantic and symbolic logic. Having been acquainted with Alice in Wonderland only through the Disney cartoon, I was surprised to see a reference to it in the course textbook. Then another one. And another one. And another one. The more references I encountered, the curiouser and curiouser I became. I had to read the book.

The fact is, Alice in Wonderland is heavy with mathematical and logical allusions, if you know where to look. Prof. Dodgson (Carroll) may have included them on purpose, but given who he was, they might have just found their way into the work naturally. In any event, I was intrigued and determined to find them.

One day, I was sitting in front of the university waiting for a bus and reading Alice in Wonderland. A little old lady walked by. A puzzled expression came over her face when she noticed what I was reading. First she stared at the book, then at the university, then back at the book. Finally she walked away, shaking her head. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I am certain it wasn’t very flattering, either for me or the university.

Philip Yaffe is a former reporter/feature writer with The Wall Street Journal and a marketing communication consultant. He currently teaches a course in good writing and good speaking in Brussels, Belgium. His recently published book In the “I” of the Storm: the Simple Secrets of Writing & Speaking (Almost) like a Professional is available from Story Publishers in Ghent, Belgium (storypublishers.be) and Amazon (amazon.com).

For further information, contact:

Philip Yaffe

Brussels, Belgium

Tel: +32 (0)2 660 0405

Email: phil.yaffe@yahoo.com



By: Philip Yaffe

About the Author:

Franklin