Given my education, experience and, I'll admit, personality, mistakes in writing jump up and bite me on the nose. Once, as I flipped through a book, I stopped because something felt vaguely wrong. I read the page I had just glanced at and found a typo about two-thirds of the way down.
Given how much copy I see every day, I see a lot of mistakes, and I think some patterns are worth pointing out. Today I'll focus on the repetition that creeps into our phrasing (no, you shouldn't say people "mutually agree"; by definition, any agreement has to be mutual) and undercuts the crisp confidence we want to project.
These aren't the kinds of mistakes that spellcheck or even Grammarly, in most cases, will flag for you, but they're like termites in a wooden structure. They weaken our writing, while insurance needs to be projecting competence and strength.
Let's have a look.
To me, phrases such as "mutually agree" are like a record with a scratch in it. The phrases quickly repeat themselves, and they hit me with the same sort of screech that a record player can. I realize my reaction is unusually harsh — an occupational hazard and perhaps a personality defect — but such phrases are still worth purging. When you say people mutually agreed to do something, you sound defensive — "Honest, when I say we agreed, I meant it. Really." In fact, in a lot of cases, "mutual agreement" is a euphemism. A coach "mutually agreed" with a team that it was time to part? Yeah, he was fired. Just say "agreed" and get on with it. Your readers will sense your confidence, even if they don't react as viscerally to language as I do.
If you look a bit, I think you'll mutually agree that there are lot of such screechy phrases. Here are just some that have crossed my desk since I started keeping a list a couple of weeks ago:
- Two people share a common trait. If you share a trait with someone, you have that trait in common, by definition.
- Some number of different people. Why different? You can't have more than one of the same person. But I see "different people," "different businesses," "different" this, "different" that.
- Closely scrutinize. To scrutinize is to look closely at something. You can't look closely closely.
- Major crisis, major catastrophe, major disaster. Can there be a crisis/catastrophe/disaster that isn't major?
- Advance warning. Warning after the fact isn't actually warning.
- Pre-planned. Planning after the fact isn't actually planning.
- Proactive risk management. Reactive risk management isn't actually risk management, at least not for whatever loss you just suffered.
- Someone successfully accomplished something. If you accomplished something, you succeeded. There are many variants of this issue. A New York Times column yesterday, for instance, redundantly said that something "successfully came to fruition" — a new one for me. "Successfully" gets sprinkled into articles and bios like fairy dust. Some aren't inherently repetitive. For instance, bios often say that someone "successfully launched" a product or business. It's certainly possible to launch a product or business that flops, but you wouldn't be telling us about a flop. "Success" is overrated. The word feels needy.
- Speaking of being used like fairy dust, I'll re-up my disdain for new, which I've expressed in earlier rants on language. I appreciate the temptation. We're trying to stir up excitement and move the industry forward, but not everything is new and shouldn't be labeled as such. I'd say the most common (mis)usage I see is "created a new" something (as though you can create an old something). The phrases that most set my teeth on edge are "new record" (as though you could set an old record) and "new innovations" (the root of "innovation" is "-nov-," which means new). Talking about new innovations makes us sound like an old late-night commercial — This product "is new, new, all new. And wait... there's more!"
- Proven track record. The whole point of a track record is that it's proven. It's written down. It's verifiable. You don't need to trust what the tout is telling you about a horse. You can see the track record for yourself.
- Most-well-known. This isn't a redundancy, but it's bizarre, and I'm seeing it a lot, so I'm tossing it in here. The progression goes "good," "better," "best." It doesn't go "good," "better," "most well." So why would the progression about how famous something or someone is go "known," "better-known," "most-well-known"? It doesn't. Yes, "well-known" is a legitimate phrase, but "most well" isn't a thing, so "most-well-known" surely isn't. I think people chicken out because "best" seems like an endorsement. They don't want to use "best" in connection with, say, a notorious criminal, but the only superlative available to you is "best-known." "Most well" simply doesn't exist in the English language, not even if you're describing how done you want your steak to be.
You get the idea. You probably even already go through the sort of self-editing I'm suggesting. You were probably harangued in elementary school to avoid the passive voice and may have been counseled to delete "very" every time you used it. I'm merely suggesting adding something to your to-don't list.
Your writing will come across as more confident if you eliminate the weak redundancies I've listed — and the million others you'll spot once you start looking.
Fixing these redundancy issues may feel like a small thing, and even a grump like me will acknowledge that the changes will fly under the radar for most people, but I'm reminded of a saying that was my mantra when I used to take long bicycle trips and was packing: "If you take care of the ounces, the pounds will take care of themselves." Customers are demanding that insurance become more understandable, even friendlier. No more of the "whereofs" and "wherefores" in arcane documents that only a lawyer could love. So I don't think it's possible to pay too much attention to the language we use. Every little thing we do becomes part of how customers perceive us.
You now have your advance warning. You can proceed with your proactive pre-planning.
Cheers,
Paul
P.S. Here are some of my favorite previous rants on language: "Can We Please Tone Down All the 'Inflection Point' Talk?"; "Let's Stop With the Gibberish"' "May I Rant for a Moment?"; and "Two Words We Must Stop Using."