Editor’s note: It’s October 2025. I wrote this piece when I was aware of my struggle to write concisely, but had yet to learn how to actually do it. The original post was ironically long. It was like I tripped and fell into an extra 2,000 words. I left it for a while because it was funny and ironic, but I’ve now carved out the sections that had little to do with the topic question.
They’re now here:
Adventures in Writing: Goal-Setting to Improve as a Writer
Adventures in Writing: Why it’s Still Hard to Be Concise (and Things I’ve Tried)
And a year later, I’ve learned quite a bit more about writing concisely! I’ll be posting some practical strategies that have worked later this year, and update this post with links once they’re live.
I love writing. I write in two worlds — the world of accounting, and this one. In both, brevity is highly regarded, and rightfully so! We’re constantly connected, bombarded, and otherwise busy. We don’t have the time, energy, or (let’s be honest) focus to meander through a wall of text or wandering thoughts.
We need to get to the point.
Unless of course your writing is a work of art, in which case we’re there for the experience, right?
Perhaps, but even accomplished authors need their novels to read clearly and concisely. As I understand it, a large chunk of the editing process is dedicated to achieving this!
Brevity has been one of my greatest challenges in writing.
As I write this post, I’m painfully aware that this, too, could stand to be far more concise. I chalk it up to being part of the process of learning to write, and the process of creative exploration. You need to try, and to make a bit of a mess, in order to find your way (and your style).
It’s hard to tell where exactly my lack of brevity is coming from, but for now, I’ve chalked it up to a mix of four likely culprits:
1. Too much detail
Definitions, caveats, technicalities, etc. This is especially true at work, and I think it comes from our first three years on the job.
While articling, the majority of writing is done in preparation for the Uniform Exam. Back then, the exam was sixteen hours of open-ended case questions. The goal was for students to demonstrate their depth and breadth of technical knowledge under time pressure. So you learned how to throw down everything you know, as fast as possible!
It turns out, most readers are not coming to your blog post or tax article to touch on everything there possibly is to know about a given topic. They’re looking for a specific solution.
2. Lack of focus
I write with a topic or general idea in mind, but without focus, that topic or idea could balloon into six other things. Those six things might have sub-topics of their own, and I start generously touching on all of them.
At the same time.
So, what exactly is it that I was trying to say, here? Who is this helping?
Everything, and everyone? Perfect.
Except by trying to help everyone with everything, we sort-of wind up helping nobody with nothing.
3. Impatience, ironically
I want to sit down and write, and so I tend to skip the upfront planning that is otherwise required for focused writing.
Put more concisely: I often skip outlining.
(I used to skip outlining when studying for the Uniform Exam, too. Big mistake.)
If I knew outlining was important, why did I skip it? I was too fixated on the time cost of creating one, and not aware enough of the time savings of writing with one.
Also, building off a lack of focus: I didn’t really know what it was I wanted to say or why, so how could I possibly outline it?
Finally, I used to skip a lot of the editing that I needed to achieve brevity out of laziness. I’m starting to pay more attention, though, because this is where all the learning happens: on the edit.
It turns out that a first draft is not a productive place to start practicing brevity.
4. Tonal darlings
Apparently this is a classic amateur mistake: we fall in love with flowery language and elaborate sentences and try to put them into all of our work.
And you know what? I’m okay with that for now. This is just newbie writers playing with their medium, and I think it’s an important part of creative self-expression.
But if you want to write concisely, and you want your work to mature, then yes, you must kill your darlings as they say.
So, about what you just wrote: Does it really get to the point? Or are you just explaining the same things in different ways because they all sound kinda smart and imaginative?
Parting words
This very post started as a 163 word anecdote attached to a completely unrelated post, and one day I thought what a great opportunity to expand this into a little musing!
[2025 editor’s note: I’ve left most of this post intact as a marker in time for myself, but I’m also just coming in to say that before I chopped it up, this post was about 2,300 words. Yikes.]
That’s all for today — thanks for joining me on this little reflection. As you can see, if you’re learning how to write more concisely, I’m right there with you!
Until next time, when I hope to see you more frequently, but in shorter doses. 🙂
P.S. — I also write a monthly letter, and I promise they’re a lot shorter than this blog post! Stay connected to your creativity: Subscribe to the Debit This, Create That newsletter!
