Empty Words

Empty Words

John Paul Derryberry

Do you remember the first time you got a lengthy writing assignment? There was a page requirement of three, five, or ten pages. You wrote your first draft with your current arsenal of words and communication style, and when you finished your last sentence, you were three lines short of hitting the requirement. You let out a giant, "Oh, Come on!" Then you started combing the document for words you could change into longer ones.  

Old became decaying or historical, and further down in the document right became precise. Next, you started trying to rewrite sentences with additional terms. We must go became; it was decided that we, the esteemed group, must proceed forth into the future.  You finally hit the page requirement and then reread your paper and go, I sound fancy, like the next Shakespeare. Only to have your essay returned with a bunch of red marks with the line, it didn't read like your voice because you or I am not the next Shakespeare. 

We should learn new words and wiggle them into our vocabulary. We should aspire to write and speak in ways that demonstrate our unique view of the world. But we should not go carelessly into our writings and speeches with fluff for the sake of an extra minute of video time or two additional lines on the essay. It rings empty, how do I know because I can trace back to a specific moment in my speaking career. I agreed to do my typical 60-minute talk, but a last-minute switch in schedule forced my 60 minutes slot to be trimmed to 45 minutes.  

I trimmed and cut lines after line to fit into my time frame. I noticed how crisp, how much more the 45 minutes sounded like me, the quicker pace, the sharper tongue, the heightened focus. After the presentation, the feedback was the best I had ever received.  I had been wasting 15 minutes of every audience member's time with my fluff, with the elongated but ultimately empty words.

I'm witnessing empty words a lot now. In the age of social media and everyone attempting to garner the limited attention, anyone affords anybody these days. We make up words, craft over-elaborate false meaning phrases, create a connection where there is none all in an attempt to fancy up our message. Much like our papers all those years ago, our audience scoffs and reacts poorly because it doesn't ring true. Empty words, too many empty words haunt our interactions now.  

It's my mantra to embrace the editing process, and to always remember 1000 valid words can be undone with one false one. I know to cut out does not mean to lessen the message; it sharpens. It becomes pointed and has a higher chance of cutting through the societal mess to reach it's intended audience.  Most importantly, it rings trues because the most important thing for every message is to remember authenticity, or eventually, it all crumbles.  And the only thing in my life I want to crumble are my cookies.