see it as you say it?

Letter-writing is an art. Akshewelly, writing is an art. Conveying yourself in a way which not only capitulates to good grammar, flow and articulation but also puts across the words they way you’re hearing them in your head is seemingly a treacherous journey. I don’t possess the gift to write beautiful letters and admire the people that can. When it comes to emails, I also curse the people who can’t be bothered to at least try.

My father’s schooling and poetic recall always result in beautiful letters. The deftly scribed thank-you notes left for my sister and I from Father Christmas (for the chiddlers reading this: yes, he does exist – I know this because he’s my Dad); the letter he wrote to me shortly after I went to University and, bejizzers, even the weekly shopping list (to some extent) all embody his appreciation of the visual and aural word.

The details matter

The lovely Julia Gilbert’s recent article on deciphering text made me think about this. I’m a decipherable detail fiend.

My perspective on creating a work of word art is that it usually needs some sort of emotion. However, I HATE CAPSLOCKITIS. And punctuatitis!!!!!!!! Caps Lock is not a tool of anger, it is a button. If you use it to express yourself, quite frankly, you are too lazy to do it effectively. Step back and look at this. I appreciate that having to momentarily hold down the shift key can be a fleeting chore, but it really will help you to look super-sexy in your expression. You’ll also recognise that ten exclamation marks do not make you any more surprised than the first one you typed.

Emotion without cheese. Hmm, I’m going to leave you to your own creative linguistics for that one, because it’s personal to you. Akshully.

Calligraphy

Engrossing is my father’s scribing weapon of choice. Handwriting and calligraphy were part of his formal education and something that has endured in his penmanship. I, however, was not afforded this opportunity and my resulting ‘normal’ handwriting style is subject to interpretation, guesswork and appreciation by spiders.

So beautiful is my father’s handwriting, I suspect there will be a few of his cheques, sitting uncashed, in frames on walls somewhere. So horrendous is mine, I may have managed to keep a few uncashed merely by their unreadability; sealing their fate with them sent to sliced heaven via a shredder and a confuddled pair of eyes.

Emails

Here we go. This has been bubbling up for a while now, and I make no excuses for rantage about this:

1. If you are writing an email, you are not generally using your mobile phone to do this. Please do not use text speak, no matter how rushed you feel. It is incompetent content in the context of this particular form of communicating (see 2).

2. An email is an electronic mail. I’m pointing this out for a reason. Mail includes letters and, therefore, the rules of good letter writing apply. Capital letters, proper punctuation, check your emotion, remember your audience and read it before you send it.

3. Whilst I’m onboard the typy-writey train here, I haven’t totally forgotten about the mighty power of voice. Possibly the most irritating thing in the workplace is when someone thinks typing to offbeat sentences peppered with vagueness won’t lead to me to make a quick phone call to them rather than playing email ping pong with them all afternoon. Talking is good, if the circumstances permit.

How do you feel?

Writing anything is seriously instantaneous these days. ‘Click’ and it’s off. Did you really mean what you wrote? Do you think ‘oops’ or ‘yay!’?

Read what you write, even if you’re writing a shitty response. You’ll have to deal with the fallout if someone challenges or questions you about it. For example, I’m aware that right at this moment, I’m sounding bossy and quite pointy. I rest my case, M’Lud.

Be gracious if your recipient questions your words. If something you meant in a certain way was interpreted in another, tell them. Don’t ever think that an apology is a sign of weakness; it’s often a way to building up a mutual understanding and appreciation.

If it didn’t come across the way you intended to, think about how you could do it differently next time.

The challenge: the ‘whoa, hold on a minute!’ in words

How do you tell someone if you don’t agree with them without causing ructions? How do you get them on board with your ideas? How do you do this without ruffling them or putting up barriers between you and them, and when it comes to the online jungle, those others who are involved? King of Pods, Nick Booth, posed this quandary recently, and it’s really not an easy one to broach. Akchoowerly.

This is much more difficult and needs some consideration about you and the relationship with the person with whom you’re communicating. Sometimes there’s officialdom and hierarchy. Sometimes there’s a sense of unfamiliarity. The former is somewhat easier to gauge. The latter is an open book, with scribblings from both which could clash, clatter or fizzle. The middle ground are those who you know and like, and have some flexibility with. Sometimes you’re playing with all three.

I don’t know the answer to leading people online, but think that any communication should ultimately be as constructive as possible and contribute to the matter in question. How effective is it when it’s done online? Only as effective as the relationship of you and the recipient, wrapped up in the big, unruly bow of all others also implicated into the equation.

Eeh, you’re dishing it out, but can you communicate beautifully?

Of course not. I’m always subject to interpretation. :)