I recently attended a writing conference. I had the impression that the subject of the gathering would be marketing, but instead the topic was very different, and frankly, quite shocking.
A well dressed gentleman, mature, but well put together, was introduced by the emcee as having been an engineer during his professional life. When he spoke, there was an obvious aire of intelligence and as the program began I adjusted my body in the seat, preparing, I thought for an informative and hopefully entertaining lecture.
The title of the presentation (and I paraphrase here), was something to the effect of "How to Write Non-Fiction That People Will Want to Read". Hmm, I pondered, how fortunate, I write non-fiction, this should be good. But the thrust of the content gave me pause, as I increasingly found myself metaphorically picking my jaw up off of the floor.
It seems there is something called a the Gunning Fog Index. It was developed by an American businessman in 1952. The objective of this so-called index is to determine the "readability" of a given text, by running it through a meat grinder of a formula, to arrive at a factor that determines the level of intelligence needed by the reader, for the writing to be understood.
A factor of 12, for example, would be equivalent to the understanding of a 12th grader, or someone who is about 18 years of age. A text intended for wide distribution would need an index number of less than 12. And one intended for the general population would need to be compressed to an 8.
Furthermore, words that have more than three syllables, are considered "big words" and are therefore undigestible.... kind of like As-par-a-gus. What happened to using a dictionary to learn the sound and meaning of new, unfamiliar words? That is how each of us is supposed to build our vocabulary.
But I guess in our new, technologically-driven world, that all takes too much time. And the degree to which you improve your vocabulary is perhaps the degree to which you distance yourself intellectually from "your peeps" (Common vernacular for People, in case you didn't know)
I left the conference, deriding the whole premise as ridiculous. But later, upon reflection, it dawned on me that a reemergence of this mathematical evisceration of our language could spell the end of literature, as we know it. And I fear that there indeed may be a diabolical plot to do just that.
With greater frequency, I recalled, on television, I am now hearing jumbled together sentences and contemporary brain damaging phrases like "my bad" or "you guys", when addressing their audience. I know that for many of you out there, especially those we now derisively refer to as "millennials", this all seems "Much Ado About Nothing". Especially to those that are comfortable using "u" in place of "you" or "BTW", for "by the way" in your text messages. Okay, call me a grumpy old man, I'm probably guilty as charged.
But for a writer, a real writer, that loves the language and communication that carries weight and emotion, this trend feels like another layer of civility being ripped from our society. The satisfying sense of using our god-given brains to elevate our discourse can still be found, for now, in well written books, magazines and even on radio, but it is dwindling, like the wild, untrammeled places on Earth, where we are still free to expand our minds into the wonders and mysteries of creation.
Maybe one day, language will be like commuting to work in a cheap, little car. You'll eventually arrive at your destination, but the ride will be uneventful, boring, devoid of interest.
For me, the content I will read and listen to and the writing that I will create will be more like climbing into a fine European sedan. You'll hear, feel and smell imported Corinthian leather under you as you fill the seat; the dash will be constructed of the finest hardwoods from across the globe, tinted windows, seat warmers and a rich, powerful sound system all combine to transport you physically and sensually to another dimension. A sense of weightlessness will envelop you as you clutch the sumptuous steering wheel in your palm and press on the accelerator. The roar of a finely tuned, precision power plant reminds you of a big cat waking up after a full meal. You drop the 9 speed transmission into drive and the thrust propels you back in the seat like a muscle car from the 1960's. But the ride is smooth, the movement is effortless and the experience is priceless.
That, my friends, is how good writing should make you feel.
-Shane Eric Mathias
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