The company email was painful.

“We are focused on enhancing our climate by creating a paradigm so that we may be a model for blah, blah, blah.”*

And you’re selling what, now?

As someone who’s dealt with politicians, large faceless corporations and small children for years, I’ve been attacked almost daily by gibberish. However, “enhancing our climate” is not just an attack, it’s the literary equivalent of an intentional food poisoning.

Trust me. I just threw up a little.

The point of communication, any type of communication, is to communicate. And the best way to do this is to choose words that actually mean something. Unfortunately, since we Americans have used the English language as long as we can remember, we think we can communicate. However, most of us have a weaker vocabulary than Koko the sign language gorilla. We have the mistaken idea that if something sounds good, it must be good. Right?

Wrong.

For example: “The positive aspects of the elements of our character factor into condition of the situation.”

I just made that up (hey, I could work in government), and although the sentence may seem important, all it really sounds like is official. Read it again and tell me if the sentence means anything. No, wait. I’ll save you the time. It doesn’t.

“I want French fries,” has meaning.

“I sat on a cat,” has meaning.

Even “I like both major candidates running for president,” has meaning. It means you’ve gone stark raving mad.

The point is Americans are busy people and we don’t have time to spend determining if we should listen to what you say, or if we can nod our heads and wander off to read in the bathroom.

Here’s a tip: If you use words like aspect, character, condition (unless you’re talking about the great 1968 song “Just Dropped In To See What Condition My Condition Was In” by Kenny Rogers and the First Edition), element, factor or situation, chances are you’re simply babbling in Corporate-Speak.

If something’s important enough to read, it better be written simply enough to understand. Here are Jason’s Five Steps to Battling Corporate-Speak:

Step one: Have an idea.

Step two: Chose words to express that idea. If you can’t define a word without saying “uh,” or “um,” don’t use it.

Step three: If you’re confused about words, you can find lots of them in a big red book. No, the one labeled “dictionary,” not the one labeled, “Better Homes and Gardens: New Cook Book,” although that one does have a killer recipe for roasted potatoes.

Step four: Put these words together. If the words don’t make sense, try putting them in a different order.

Step five: Read it aloud to Koko the sign language gorilla. If she doesn’t throw you through a window, you’ve advanced beyond Corporate-Speak and can now communicate in English.

*Company name withheld to protect the enhanced integrity of its character.

A soon-to-graduate student I’d never met walked into my office and asked for a few moments of my time. No problem. Any teacher who turns away a student is not really in it for the teaching. I’m not sure what they’d be in it for, although the summer vacations are better than botched vasectomy, that’s for damn sure.

Although this student was going into the public relations field (can’t fault him for wanting to pay the bills), what he really wants to do is write. Specifically he wants to write narrative nonfiction. Good for him. Six of my books are narrative nonfiction. That genre is rewarding, fun, meaningful to readers, and the research is tax deductible. Thank you IRS (you don’t hear that every day).

My first question to him was, “Have you read Truman Capote’s ‘In Cold Blood’?”

He hadn’t.

Hmm.

There are certain books that define every genre, and if you want to write in that genre, you should probably read them. Surprise, surprise, people can learn from history. For what not to do, let’s turn to baseball.

In 1992, when Kansas City Royals future Hall of Famer George Brett chased his milestone 3,000^th hit, an interviewer told Brett he’d just surpassed St. Louis Cardinals great Rogers Hornsby on the all-time hits list. Brett responded with, “Bruce Hornsby and the Range?” Really, George? As a major league player, you should have known enough baseball history not to confuse a Hall of Famer with a mediocre pop band. Nice work.

Don’t be like George. Know who came before you.

For pulp horror, try H.P. Lovecraft’s “At the Mountains of Madness.” For modern horror, Stephen King’s “The Shining” is a must.

If you want to try your hand at fantasy and haven’t read J.R.R. Tolkien’s “The Hobbit,” and “The Lord of the Rings,” or Michael Moorcock’s Elric series, you’re not doing yourself – or potential readers – any favors.

Humor? Douglas Adams’ “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” or Dave Barry’s “Babies and Other Hazards of Sex: How to Make a Tiny Person in Only 9 Months, with Tools You Probably Have around the Home” are good places to start.

If you want science-laden science fiction, the late Michael Crichton was the best. Just pick any one of his surprisingly easy-to-read volumes off the shelf at your local library. You won’t be disappointed.

For narrative nonfiction, like I suggested to the student, start with “In Cold Blood.” Capote dubbed his book a “nonfiction novel,” and it reads like such. However, it’s not. The book seamlessly weaves Capote’s and friend Harper Lee’s impeccable research into the murder of the Clutter family throughout the narrative giving the reader the sense they’re watching the events happen.

The point is, read. Once you’ve read the books that define your genre, read something else – anything else. If the writing is good, you’re going to learn something. I don’t write psychological thrillers, (I write the aforementioned horror, fantasy, science fiction, and humor), but the last few books I’ve read (and the best books I’ve read in a long time), are by Jillian Flynn (“Sharp Objects,” “Dark Places”), and Tana French (“In the Woods.” I’m angry about that book. More on that sometime later, but it’s a great read nonetheless).

So, writing students, my first advice to you on the Process is to pick up a book and turn the pages. I’m sure every writer I’ve mentioned (even the dead ones) would tell you the same thing.