Academic Writing Should Be Concise, Clear & Correct
I am always surprised when I encounter an argument – often a written argument – against good writing. For one, it seems a contradiction that anyone who communicates their thoughts in text, especially in a professional context, would think it appropriate that the rules and practices that ensure accuracy, clarity and precision of expression should be neglected. Indeed, were such arguments written in better prose, they might be more convincing, so perhaps it is best that those who choose to defend sloppy work are undermined by their own negligent practices. Certainly, when the matter is considered carefully, there are simply no sound arguments for poor writing.

There are, of course, a variety of responses used to lash textual aficionados who attempt to explain the importance and benefits of writing well to those who would rather not hear such arguments. For example, there is the common claim that following all the rules and principles will produce text that sounds foreign and presumptuous to readers who do not observe such rules and principles in their speech. This could perhaps be a valid stance in a memoir or autobiography intended to convey with accuracy an uneducated or uncorrupted narrative voice that would not know the rules of grammar or punctuation. Even then, however, one might argue that more knowledge of correct writing would ultimately produce a better representation of its absence. In the case of dialogue written to express dialectical or otherwise idiosyncratic speech patterns, a sound understanding of the rules and principles of correct prose is essential, and still the task, as many academics and scientists who have worked to reproduce the speech of interviewees will know, can be immensely challenging because breaking the rules effectively requires knowing them well indeed.

In addition, the argument that large segments of an author’s readership will think correct prose presumptuous or not be able to understand an author who follows the rules is specious. An analogy might clarify my point. Let us say that a medical doctor were to argue that he applied all his training and knowledge along with the care and conscientiousness in adhering to them whenever he treated a fellow doctor who understood exactly what he was doing. When, on the other hand, his patients lacked medical training and were ignorant of what he was doing, he felt no need to apply his skills with precision and conscientiously render proper care because, of course, those patients would not know the difference and may even see procedures they did not understand as suspect. Such a ludicrous concept demonstrates just how ridiculous the parallel argument for poor writing is and also highlights a vital point: it is all the more important to apply skills and excellence when the person on the receiving end, whether patient or reader, does not have the knowledge to correct any errors. The patient who is also a doctor may be able to adjust a negligent doctor’s advice and a reader who is also an accomplished writer might mentally correct textual errors, but the patients and readers who are nonspecialists must rely on that doctor or writer to do the job well.

To make my point yet more obvious, a numerical example may be particularly helpful. Take, for instance, the equation 3+3=6 and set it beside the textual phrase ‘Alice’s red book,’ which refers to a red book that belongs to Alice or perhaps a red book written by Alice. A recent reaction against apostrophes in the English language would suggest that ‘Alices red book’ is a perfectly acceptable alternative for the phrase, but it simply does not mean the same thing, just as 3+3=5 does not mean the same thing as 3+3=6. The potential confusion may not be as disturbing as that resulting from the use of ‘come over to eat Alice’ instead of ‘come over to eat, Alice,’ but the issue is not a subjective one. The phrase is simply wrong (plural instead of possessive) due to the missing apostrophe – as wrong as 3+3=5. Yes, the reader who knows anything about English can quickly discern the real meaning, and so too can a reader who knows anything about math recognise that the answer is 6, not 5. Readers who cannot make those adjustments are left in confusion, however, and were a teacher to present either to a young student or a popular author of children’s books to use such constructions, the erroneous principles would be instilled, and such errors can be surprisingly difficult to eradicate.