Why Simple Writing Hits Harder (and How to Get There)
In a world saturated with syntactic acrobatics and lexical indulgence, where verbosity is often mistaken for value, many aspiring wordsmiths conflate convolution with competence. They seek not to communicate, but to construct linguistic labyrinths that dazzle, disorient, and ultimately dilute the very core of what writing is meant to do: connect.
The result? Sentences so adorned in metaphor and linguistic embellishment, they collapse under the weight of their own ego—leaving the reader gasping for clarity beneath a mountain of poetic posturing.
Umm… yeah. What?
Let’s be honest—no one’s impressed by a sentence they have to read three times just to figure out what the hell you’re saying.
This isn’t literary gymnastics. It’s insecurity in drag.
So many writers—especially new ones—try to sound like someone else. Like a capital-W Writer™ with a style that belongs in a smoking lounge, not on a shelf. They overwrite because they think sounding smart is the same as being good.
It’s not.
Good writing isn’t about flexing vocabulary. It’s about being understood.
It’s about resonance, not performance.
Even Mark Twain knew this. He once said,
“Don’t use a five-dollar word when a fifty-cent word will do.”
And George Orwell? He went even harder.
“Never use a long word where a short one will do. If it is possible to cut a word out, always cut it out.”
These are men whose words have lasted centuries—and they didn’t do it by sounding like a thesaurus wearing a monocle.
When Writing Tries Too Hard
There’s a point where writing stops being expressive and starts becoming excessive. And it usually happens when you’re more focused on sounding smart than actually saying something.
You’ve seen it—sentences so tangled with metaphors, adjectives, and abstract phrasing that the reader has to pause and squint just to figure out what’s happening. That’s not style. That’s a distraction.
Writers fall into this trap when they:
- Use big words they’d never say in real life
- Layer too many descriptions in a single moment
- Say the same thing three times, just in different ways
- Add fluff to prove they’re “serious” about the craft
You don’t need to convince anyone that you’re a good writer. You just need to tell the truth beautifully—and clearly.
🛠 Example 1:
“A cacophony of nocturnal symphonies enveloped the ethereal darkness.”
Better:
“Crickets sang into the dark.”
🛠 Example 2:
“She exhibited signs of emotional destabilization.”
Better:
“She broke down.”
🛠 Example 3:
“His eyes widened in fear, terror, and panic.”
Better:
“His eyes widened.”
You don’t need to be flowery. You don’t need to be grand.
You just need to be clear. Be intentional. Be real.
Because clarity? That’s what hits the hardest.
Let the Story Speak
You don’t need to sound like a literary god.
You need to sound like you—but sharper, braver, stripped of fear, and rooted in truth.
Readers don’t want to be impressed. They want to be moved.
And you don’t move people with noise. You move them with clarity, intention, and honesty.
Say what you mean. Say it clean.
Say it like you’ve got something to say.
Then step back—and let the story speak.
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