intent to write
It’s a common misconception that to write well is to write sparsely. To strip nouns of their flesh, to handcuff verbs in austerity, to scrub down your words till they smell like nothing.
Plain writing has its place, certainly — but that place is not "everywhere".
It’s an even more common misconception that to write well is to dress your words up in finery. To bejewel them with shiny adjectives and adverbs, to squeeze them into their fanciest synonyms, and to spray them with generous fumes of simile.
Effusive writing, too, has its place — and that place, also, is not "everywhere".
The truth is that, to write well, you must write with intent.
When my intent is to inform, I use short words and simple images.
When my intent is to amuse, I combine opposites with the element of surprise. A well-placed oxymoron can create tidy little hurricanes of humour.
When my intent is to draw attention, I am bold. I sharpen my verbs and fatten my nouns.
Finally, when my intent is to mystify, then — and only then — do I use every sesquipedalian word in my lexicon.
Write only what you mean to say. Everything else is dressing. And you'll want your words naked.