When it comes to writing non-fiction, that is, articles, how-to books, reports, business writing, copywriting, and so on, most non-writers labor under the mistaken notion that they know a little about “how it’s done” and can guide and direct writers. The result is that they often fail to deliver the suggestions writers actually need (such as intended audience, goals of the piece, requirements in terms of content such as mentioning a specific product feature), but instead make demands in terms of structure.
And that brings us to architecture. Most non-writers do not know that writing involves a framework. When a house is built, an architect draws up plans and the house gets a foundation and then a frame before somebody gets to put up the drapes or decide where the piano should be placed. But when it comes to writing, most non-writers want to arrange the furniture and paint the walls before the basic structure is built.
Recently, I was asked to write a report about the outcome of a future conference. The conference hasn’t been held yet and although we know the vague parameters of what’s going on, I can’t really write the report until the conference takes place. The company commissioning the project wanted to outline the article I’m writing for me–they wanted specific subheads in the text. When I pointed out that it might be premature to outline an article about an event that hasn’t happened yet, I was still given a list of subheads to use.
Which brings us to structure. The best writing on earth happens when the writer can take a body of information and build the structure of the written piece organically so that it maps onto the actual content. The best way to structure something is to make it a “head game.” If you read something, one idea should flow logically into the next. It’s almost like stair steps. Start here … and that brings us to this … and that brings us to this other point … and so on. The key is that the points have to progress logically and possess that internal “head logic” that intelligent readers bring to a piece. The points also have to be in order. If you get too far out of order, you will wind up having to explain what you just wrote–not an indication of clean writing.
Most of the time a writer has to take a body of information and somehow make it work in a specific format–a brochure or a newsletter article or content for a website. Those formats do impose restraints, but a good writer knows his or her way around them. I’ll have more on those in the next posts.
But the point is to get inside the head of the intelligent reader and guide it from point A to point B and point C. That’s structure. If you don’t build a solid framework, your writing falls apart. Even the greatest writer on earth can’t save a badly constructed piece.
Once the framework is built, you can worry about the actual wordsmithing. A clue here is to also get inside the head of the intelligent reader by trying to use words that you suspect the reader would be saying to himself. For example, if you’re describing a new car, you may figure that the reader is going to wonder about fuel efficiency or affordability–so you address those issues in the same words he would be using in his head.
Even writing for a scientific journal, you anticipate what the intelligent reader might be asking and give the information using the same words the reader would use. If you’re doing a statistical study, the intelligent reader will want to know the p-value. If you’re writing about medicine, the intelligent reader may wonder about the “patients at baseline” (meaning how sick or well were the patients before the treatment started). That’s the second phase of writing.
But the first phase is building a solid structure.
