No one can go far wrong in writing any sort of letter if first the

trouble be taken to set out the exact object of the letter. A letter

always has an object--otherwise why write it? But somehow, and

particularly in the dictated letter, the object frequently gets lost in

the words. A handwritten letter is not so apt to be wordy--it is too

much trouble to write. But a man dictating may, especially if he be

interrupted by telephone calls, ramble all around what he wants to say

and in the end have used two pages for what ought to have been said in

three lines. On the other hand, letters may be so brief as to produce an

impression of abrupt discourtesy. It is a rare writer who can say all

that need be said in one line and not seem rude. But it can be done.

The single purpose of a letter is to convey thought. That thought may

have to do with facts, and the further purpose may be to have the

thought produce action. But plainly the action depends solely upon how

well the thought is transferred. Words as used in a letter are vehicles

for thought, but every word is not a vehicle for thought, because it may

not be the kind of word that goes to the place where you want your

thought to go; or, to put it another way, there is a wide variation in

the understanding of words. The average American vocabulary is quite

limited, and where an exactly phrased letter might completely convey an

exact thought to a person of education, that same letter might be

meaningless to a person who understands but few words. Therefore, it is

fatal in general letter writing to venture into unusual words or to go

much beyond the vocabulary of, say, a grammar school graduate.

Statistics show that the ordinary adult in the United States--that is,

the great American public--has either no high school education or less

than a year of it. You can assume in writing to a man whom you do not

know and about whom you have no information that he has only a grammar

school education and that in using other than commonplace words you run

a double danger--first, that he will not know what you are talking about

or will misinterpret it; and second, that he will think you are trying

to be highfalutin and will resent your possibly quite innocent parade of

language.

In a few very effective sales letters the writers have taken exactly the

opposite tack. They have slung language in the fashion of a circus

publicity agent, and by their verbal gymnastics have attracted

attention. This sort of thing may do very well in some kinds of circular

letters, but it is quite out of place in the common run of business

correspondence, and a comparison of the sales letters of many companies

with their day-to-day correspondence shows clearly the need for more

attention to the day-to-day letter. A sales letter may be bought. A

number of very competent men make a business of writing letters for

special purposes. But a higher tone in general correspondence cannot be

bought and paid for. It has to be developed. A good letter writer will

neither insult the intelligence of his correspondent by making the

letter too childish, nor will he make the mistake of going over his

head. He will visualize who is going to receive his letter and use the

kind of language that seems best to fit both the subject matter and the

reader, and he will give the fitting of the words to the reader the

first choice.

There is something of a feeling that letters should be elegant--that if

one merely expresses oneself simply and clearly, it is because of some

lack of erudition, and that true erudition breaks out in great, sonorous

words and involved constructions. There could be no greater mistake. The

man who really knows the language will write simply. The man who does

not know the language and is affecting something which he thinks is

culture has what might be called a sense of linguistic insecurity, which

is akin to the sense of social insecurity. Now and again one meets a

person who is dreadfully afraid of making a social error. He is afraid

of getting hold of the wrong fork or of doing something else that is not

done. Such people labor along frightfully. They have a perfectly vile

time of it, but any one who knows social usage takes it as a matter of

course. He observes the rules, not because they are rules, but because

they are second nature to him, and he shamelessly violates the rules if

the occasion seems to warrant it. It is quite the same with the letter.

One should know his ground well enough to do what one likes, bearing in

mind that there is no reason for writing a letter unless the objective

is clearly defined. Writing a letter is like shooting at a target. The

target may be hit by accident, but it is more apt to be hit if careful

aim has been taken.