Why Writing Must Be Specific

• You gather information about your world through your five senses; so does your reader.

  This is no surprise. Some of the information you gather will please you; some will not. You will like some things and dislike others. You may be tempted to spend more time telling your reader how you feel about things than you do recreating the experience in your reader's mind. You are thinking only of yourself, not your reader. This is a mistake. To form a mental experience (called a "vicarious" experience), your reader needs the same sensory information you experienced, not your opinions and evaluations of that sensory information. Look at these two examples:
1. The state fair is a wonderful place to go. You can have lots of fun on the rides, hear the crowds having a good time, and eat tasty foods. I really like going to the fair.
2. From the moment you step out of your car, the bright lights of the Ferris wheel, the Snap-the-Dragon, and the Tilt-a-Whirl beckon you. The excited chatter of small children, the laughter of teens, and the screams and shouts of those on breath-taking rides fill the the air. The smells of fresh, powderd sugar-topped funnel cakes and juicy hot dogs seem to call "Over here! Come this way!"

The first example is merely a positive evaluation of the fair. It lists some of the generic activites you might experience, but the reader cannot experience the fair for himself.

The second example presents more sensory details, and therefore seems more real. Specific rides are mentioned. Specific sounds are given. Specific foods are mentioned and described. The sensory details recreate the experience for the reader. Those sensory details come from reality and make the selection seem more real.

• Who cares about your evaluations anyway?

  Your reader may never meet you. Your reader is probably not deeply interested in your opinions or perceptions or in your evaluations of your experiences. Your reader wants those details that recreate the experience in his own mind. Give your reader the details and let him evaluate the experience for himself. You cannot expect your reader to like everything you like or think exactly as you think. This is not because your reader is rude or cold or distant. It is because your reader reserves for himself the right to evaluate experiences based on his perceptions of them, not on your perceptions. You do your work and let your reader do his.

• There are no generalities in the real world.

  You never saw a generality in the real world because generalities do not naturally exist. We create them. As we look around our world, we notice that different people or different places or different objects often have similar characteristics, so we group these similar things in classes or categories. We "classify" or "categorize." We create generic words to name these classes and categories. These generic classification words do not reveal important differences; generic words were never designed to name differences, only similarities.

• The differences make all the difference.

  No one chooses a spouse or buys a car based on the similarities that person or automobile shares with all others in that class. We make our decisions based on important differences. Those important differences cannot be named with generic, classification words, only with specific words.

• Your credibility is at stake.

  If you never mention specifics, your reader will likely conclude that you do not know the details of your subject and did not bother to find out. Why should your reader trust you? If your reader concludes that your are not a reliable or trustworthly source, he will abandon you. You have not convinced him that you have anything he needs or wants.

• Details reveal your attitude about your subject.

  You do not need to totally abandon your feelings or perceptions of your world. Often our feelings are exactly what we want to communicate. But we should always support our evaluations with details instead of evaluative words. Contrast these two examples:
1. From the moment you step out of your car, the bright lights of the Ferris wheel, the Snap-the-Dragon, and the Tilt-a-Whirl beckon you. The excited chatter of small children, the laughter of teens, and the screams and shouts of those on breath-taking rides fill the the air. The smells of fresh, powderd sugar-topped funnel cakes and juicy hot dogs seem to call "Over here! Come this way!"
2. From the moment you step out of your car, the bright lights threaten to send you into an epileptic seizure with their unrelenting strobes. The noise of deisel-belching electric generators shatter your ears and force you to yell to the person standing next to you. Crying children, scolding parents, and midway barkers luring you to waste your money on rigged games all add to the discordance. The reek of cow and pig manure coming from the stock barns joins forces with the stench of vomit beneath some brain-rattling ride to mount an assault on your nose.

Clearly, the reader will know how the writer feels about the state fair, though the writer does not use evaluative words in either selection. Reporting the details on which the writer based his evaluations--his conclusions about the fair--communicates both the details the reader needs to form a mental picture--a vicarious experience--AND lets the reader know how the writer evaluates the experience. Additionally, the writer has "encouraged" the reader to share the writer's conclusion. As you write, think less of your evaluations of the experience and more on the specific words you choose (diction) to recreate the experience in the mind of the reader. A carefully chosen word does double duty.

Remember these points:

• Evaluations alone can not recreate an experience in the reader's mind.
• Carefully chosen specific details make the use of evaluative words unnecessary.
• Recreate; don't evaluate.