Writing That Works

Have you ever read an email or report so confusing that you weren’t sure what the writer wanted from you? Kenneth Roman and Joel Raphaelson begin Writing That Works with a simple but powerful observation: too many business communications waste time. Executives, they note, constantly complain about unclear, long-winded messages that fail to communicate purpose or action. The book’s central argument is that good writing isn’t about showing off intelligence—it’s about achieving results. Whether you’re writing a short email or a major report, your goal is not “clarity for clarity’s sake,” but to move people—to make them understand, agree, and act.

Roman and Raphaelson write from decades of experience at Ogilvy & Mather, one of the world’s most influential advertising agencies. Advertising, they remind us, is simply business communication in its purest, most results-driven form. From this experience, they distilled principles that apply not only to copywriters but to any professional who writes memos, plans, proposals, presentations, or speeches. In their view, writing that works means writing that gets people to do something—approve an idea, buy a product, hire you, or grant funding.

Why Writing Matters More Than Ever

Although the first edition of this book was typed on a typewriter, the third edition was emailed to an editor. This evolution illustrates a larger truth: tools change, but the need for clear, precise communication does not. In a world of e-mail and instant messages, writing has become the defining measure of professionalism. The authors cite a CEO who lamented that many communications crossing his desk were “meaningless” and failed to specify actions. They stress that your writing is your public identity; often, people know you only through your words. Every memo, email, and report either reinforces or undermines how others perceive your competence and clarity of thought.

As the authors put it, effective writing is the ultimate time saver. In today’s crowded inboxes, short, purposeful writing isn’t just appreciated—it’s essential. People who can articulate ideas succinctly will always rise faster, simply because they make life easier for others. As business thinker Peter Drucker once observed (and the authors quote approvingly), the difference between busy executives and effective ones lies in how they use the few truly productive hours of the day. Clear writing is one of the best uses of that time.

From Clarity to Action

The authors’ guiding principle is simple: clarity isn’t the goal—action is. To communicate effectively, you must: (1) know what you want your readers to do, (2) decide what essential information they need to take that action, and (3) organize your writing to drive them there quickly. This emphasis on action echoes the viewpoint of modern management thinkers like Jeffrey Pfeffer and Robert Sutton, who criticize “smart talk”—language that sounds impressive but leads nowhere. Roman and Raphaelson agree: if your memo doesn’t lead to a decision or a change, it has failed.

The authors point to concrete examples from government and business. The U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission, for instance, introduced “plain English” initiatives after discovering that simplified writing improved compliance, trust, and savings. The Veterans Benefits Administration even saved half a million dollars annually by writing clearer letters. The pattern is consistent: clarity gets results, not because it’s more elegant but because it removes friction between writer and reader. The best writing simply meets readers where they are, and leads them step by step toward understanding and action.

Writing in the Age of E-Mail

Roman and Raphaelson were early observers of the email revolution. E-mail, they argue, democratizes writing—it gives everyone, from interns to CEOs, direct access to keyboards. That makes the ability to write well not just desirable but strategic. People no longer have secretaries to “fix” their prose, and recipients of sloppy email still judge the writer. As Playboy CEO Christie Hefner quipped, “It’s very annoying when people think grammar doesn’t matter just because it’s e-mail.” A good sentence structure signals a good mind.

But email also tempts us to be hasty. The danger is what the authors call “streams of unconsciousness”—quick, rambling messages that confuse more than they clarify. Effective communicators pause to structure their thoughts, even in email. The authors’ advice is timeless: compose yourself before you compose your message. Good writing demands reflection before reaction, especially when the “Send” button makes instant publication effortless.

The Discipline of Simplicity

Throughout the book, Roman and Raphaelson return to one theme: simplicity is the mark of mastery. This doesn’t mean dumbing down ideas; it means stripping them to their essence. Churchill’s “The news from France is bad” is far more powerful than “The situation in regard to France is very serious.” The same principle guides everything from one-page memos to major speeches. The authors encourage writers to prefer short words, short sentences, and short paragraphs. As The Wall Street Journal demonstrates daily, brevity is readability. Applicants who write clearly rise; those who require rewriting stall.

The message resonates with other classic guides such as William Zinsser’s On Writing Well and Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style: writing is thinking. If your writing is muddy, it’s because your ideas are muddy. The cure isn’t grammar lessons but sharper thought. Structure forces clarity; rewriting brings discipline. Every clear memo or plan, in the authors’ view, is evidence of a mind that knows where it’s going.

A Blueprint for All Business Writing

The rest of the book builds on this foundation, guiding you through every form of business communication: effective sentences and paragraphs (“Don’t Mumble”), memos, letters, emails, presentations, reports, proposals, and even résumés. Each form has its own rhythm and etiquette, but the principles stay constant: be specific, be concise, and aim for action. Later chapters even explore writing for computers, coping with political correctness, and editing yourself—proof that writing is never truly finished, only improved.

Ultimately, Writing That Works is more than a manual—it’s a philosophy of communication. Its lesson is both humbling and empowering: anyone can write well, not with natural talent but with purpose, thought, and revision. Whether you’re pitching an idea, applying for a job, or proposing a plan, the quality of your writing will shape the quality of your results. As Roman and Raphaelson remind us again and again, writing that works doesn’t just inform—it performs.

Roman and Raphaelson open their core instruction with a blunt command: don’t mumble. Most people, they argue, fail at writing not because they lack vocabulary, but because they lack the courage to say what they mean. The solution isn’t more education—it’s more intention. As E. B. White quipped, “When you say something, make sure you have said it.” Good writing is about expressing ideas boldly and clearly, not disguising them behind jargon or extra words.

Make Organization Clear

The authors echo journalist H. L. Mencken’s observation that bad writing reflects bad thinking. Most confusion begins with poor structure. To cure this, they recommend outlining your argument first: decide on your main points, order them logically, and tell the reader where you’re going. Use section headings and summaries to guide readers. An “Executive Summary,” for instance, should preview conclusions, not introduce new ones. Every section should answer the question, “What does my reader need to know next?”

Short Sentences, Short Paragraphs, Short Words

This is the secret of readability. The Wall Street Journal—one of the most widely read newspapers in America—succeeds because its paragraphs rarely exceed three sentences. A sentence as crisp as “It all began to crumble the afternoon Mom’s Best Cookies, Inc., fired Mom” is far more vivid than corporate bloat like “This provides the Argus, Mitchell & Dohn perspective…” Short words cut through noise. Choose “use” instead of “utilize,” “now” instead of “currently.” Simplicity doesn’t weaken you—it makes you trustworthy.

Write Actively and Personally

Passive voice, they warn, is the hallmark of bureaucratic writing: “It is recommended that…” hides who is acting. Compare that with “We recommend…” or “I suggest…” Active voice adds energy and accountability. Similarly, use personal pronouns when appropriate—people relate to people, not institutions. If you’re nervous about writing “I,” find another active subject, but don’t vanish behind abstraction. The reader wants to know who’s responsible for what.

Use Down-to-Earth Language

Jargon, or what they jokingly call “Buzzword Bingo” language, is an epidemic in business. Terms like “proactive,” “interface,” “incent,” “scope down,” or “workshopping” impress no one. People don’t say, “Our solution set is suboptimal.” They say, “Our plan isn’t working.” When you replace buzzwords with plain English, your ideas strengthen. The authors include hilarious examples of meaning-free sentences compared with their plain equivalents and challenge readers to translate “corporateese” into normal speech. As Harvard scientist Stephen Jay Gould noted, most professionals use jargon not to communicate, but to defend themselves—to sound serious. True professionals, by contrast, make complex things simple.

Be Specific and Correct

Abstract generalities like “great success” or “very overspent” mean nothing. Numbers and examples give power: “Our enrollment doubled to 560 students” persuades; “A great success” does not. Precision also requires correct word choice. The authors devote several pages to commonly confused pairs—“affect” vs. “effect,” “imply” vs. “infer,” “appraise” vs. “apprise.” Illiteracy, they warn, “does not breed respect.” Even small errors in grammar or spelling can turn readers against you. A misspelling of “its” or “it’s” may seem trivial, but senior readers notice. There’s still “a correlation between literacy and seniority.”

Cut Ruthlessly

Great writing, like sculpture, emerges from subtraction. Strike out redundant words (“plan ahead,” “each and every,” “at this point in time”). Eliminate bureaucratic filler such as “with regard to” or “in order to.” A message that takes 10 words should not use 24. The authors repeat the old line: the man who apologized for writing a long letter because he “didn’t have time to write a short one.” Editing is work, but brevity is grace.

Sound Natural—The Way You Talk

Finally, they urge you to write as you speak when you’re at your best—informal yet purposeful. Avoid pompous phrasing like “Should the supply of manuals sent you not be sufficient…” and say, “If you need more manuals, just ask.” You can adjust formality for audience—more formal for the President, less for your uncle—but keep your authenticity. If you wouldn’t say it aloud, don’t write it down.

In sum, “Don’t Mumble” is a manifesto for clear, human writing. It’s about having the courage to be understood. As Shakespeare, E. B. White, and even The Wall Street Journal remind us, short, plain, active language never goes out of style. When in doubt, write as though the smartest reader you know has only five minutes—and you need them to care.

Roman and Raphaelson’s chapter “I Love My Computer” captures the paradox of technology: computers can make writing easier—or worse. They call the personal computer “God’s gift to good writing,” but also a temptation to laziness. Word processors let you move, delete, and edit effortlessly, yet they also encourage haste. The authors argue that the tool doesn’t make the writer—discipline does.

Use Technology Wisely

The first rule is simple: write first, format later. Many writers waste hours designing fonts and indents before their ideas are clear. Formatting is not writing; clarity must come first. Use outlines to organize your thoughts, not to decorate them. Similarly, practice what they call “the Rule of More Than One”: always save multiple copies of your work. They recount how a single crash can erase hours of inspiration—a lesson anyone who’s lost a file will appreciate.

Automation Is Not Intelligence

Spell checkers and grammar programs are useful assistants but terrible editors. They recall how a program “corrected” a friend’s sentence about “Savill Gardens introduced by Stanley Pigott” into “servile gardens introduced by Stanley piglet.” Machines can’t understand meaning. Mechanical accuracy is not stylistic clarity. The authors suggest proofreading on paper, not the screen—our eyes catch what screens disguise. Computers make text look polished before it’s refined, so print drafts early and edit ruthlessly.

Beware of Perfectionism and Distraction

“Perfectionism is spelled p-a-r-a-l-y-s-i-s,” they quote Churchill. Endless tinkering—re-formatting, re-spacing, or rewording—can paralyze progress. Computers amplify that danger by making revision too easy. Know when to stop. A polished but pointless document is still ineffective communication. The goal, as always, is results, not aesthetics. They urge restraint in using bold, italics, and typefaces—too much emphasis creates clutter. A single, professional font beats a chorus of competing ones.

The Right Kind of Tools

The authors even offer practical advice for selecting technology: use quiet machines, large screens, and readable fonts like those used in newspapers. Writers don’t need powerful computers, just comfortable, reliable ones. Choosing simplicity over novelty ensures focus stays on ideas, not gadgets. As they put it, “Don’t become your computer’s slave.”

This chapter predates social media but anticipates many of its lessons: digital tools can amplify both clarity and chaos. The real secret of using technology well is remembering that words still come from thinking, not typing. Or in the authors’ elegant phrase, computers can’t make bad ideas good—they only make bad writing faster.

Few topics in Writing That Works feel as current as the chapter on email. Roman and Raphaelson saw early that email wasn’t just a new tool—it was a new way of thinking and working. It erases distance, costs nothing, and never stops. The result, however, is what they call a paradox of speed: the easier it is to write, the harder it becomes to be read.

Getting Read in the Age of Overload

Executives receive hundreds of messages daily. The first battle is simply getting yours opened. A clear, compelling subject line is the new headline. Replace dull subjects like “Status” with “Client Approval Needed” or “Update: June Launch Risks.” They compare subject lines to advertising headlines: both must sell the reader on continuing. When you send emails to groups, make relevance clear immediately so each recipient knows whether to keep reading. Ambiguous titles—or endless threads with outdated headings—bury meaning.

Cut to the Point

Most email should fit on one screen. Long digital letters rarely get read. As Manny Fernandez of Gartner Group told them, “I have never seen an email message too short.” Aim to cut every draft in half. Email is not a novel; it’s a note. If your message exceeds a few paragraphs, attach details as a document instead. Still, brevity doesn’t mean emptiness—make it “meaty, concise, and complete.”

Tone and Etiquette

Without facial cues or voice, tone can misfire. What you think sounds efficient may feel harsh: “Where’s the memo?” may sound angry. The cure? Warmth and context. Add short greetings or sign-offs like “Thanks” or “Best,” especially in first messages. Calm down before replying to conflict—email removes cooling pauses. The authors even recount CEOs who banned the “urgent” flag after too many false alarms. Restraint earns credibility.

Politeness and Privacy

Over-copying people or hitting “Reply All” is today’s epidemic. Each extra recipient adds clutter and risk. Sharing sensitive content, jokes, or complaints by email is never private—companies archive everything, and lawyers subpoena it. “Never write anything you wouldn’t want on the front page of The New York Times,” the authors warn. This remains perhaps the most valuable sentence in the chapter.

When Not to e-Mail

Sometimes a phone call is faster and safer. Urgent schedule changes, emotional matters, or tricky negotiations demand conversation. Email is information, not empathy. As one executive policy memo summarized, “If it’s sensitive, don’t send—say it.” Combining channels—calling to highlight an incoming document—can make communication more human.

Even decades later, this chapter reads like a survival guide for digital life. It taught an early version of “inbox zero” discipline: limit clutter, respect readers’ time, and never confuse typing with communicating. In the end, Roman and Raphaelson’s simplest email rule remains the most profound: the ultimate time saver is effective communication.

Although email has replaced most office memos, Roman and Raphaelson argue that formal writing remains vital whenever clarity, record, or persuasion matters. Memos and letters endure because they create tangible understanding. Unlike conversation, they can be reread and shared. Unlike PowerPoint decks, they develop complete thoughts.

Writing Effective Memos

Good memos have structure: a clear title, a defined recipient list, numbered sections, and a call to action. Address memos only to decision-makers; copy others sparingly. Never use “blind” copies—those erode trust. The authors urge clarity over politics: alphabetical order for copy lists avoids hierarchy confusion. Each memo should begin with purpose, not preamble: “This memo proposes…” beats “The purpose of this communication is to discuss….” End with explicit next steps—“Please confirm approval by Friday.” Without this, readers will shrug rather than act.

Letters That Earn Attention

Letters deserve equal discipline. Get names and addresses right—errors destroy credibility. Begin directly: your reader should know the point in the first sentence. Omit empty openings (“Please be advised that…”). In closing, avoid clichés like “Please give this matter your careful consideration.” End decisively with a specific action or sincere human note (“George, customers like you make this business worthwhile”). Roman and Raphaelson’s own examples contrast windy openings with taut, persuasive ones, showing how “Dear Classmate: It’s time to pull together our sixteenth annual gift” instantly beats sentimental preambles.

Tone, Brevity, and Humanity

Formal doesn’t mean stiff. The authors recommend matching tone to relationship: polite but personal. Handwritten notes of thanks or congratulations remain powerful precisely because they stand out in a digital world. Humor, however, is risky—unless you’re certain it translates. Anger is even riskier: “Write it when you’re mad,” they advise, “but send it after you’ve cooled down.”

This chapter culminates in a reminder from Churchill: even administrative notes benefit from clarity and dignity. His 1943 memo banning boastful war code names shows that style and morality intertwine—the right words respect lives as well as readers’ minds.

Whether you’re drafting a memo or a handwritten letter, the authors’ philosophy rings true: clarity is kindness, and decisiveness is respect.

Modern corporate life revolves around presentations. Roman and Raphaelson explain how to turn decks and speeches from dull rituals into tools of influence. They remind us that presentations are writing for the ear, not the eye. The words you speak must guide listeners through a logical story, not drown them in slides.

The Logic of Persuasion

Borrowing from consulting legend Barbara Minto, they highlight the “Pyramid Principle”—start with your core message, then support it with organized layers of reasoning. Every point should answer why the main idea is true. As in advertising, the goal is unity of theme. Use clear headlines—“Double Your Sales,” “Cut Your Costs”—and tie all evidence back to that single promise. A good deck leads from facts to conclusions to actions, just like a well-structured argument.

Focus on the Audience, Not Yourself

The biggest mistake, they insist, is talking about yourself. Audiences think, “What’s in this for us?” Begin with their problems and end with your solutions. This mirrors Steve Jobs’s advice decades later: start with customer pain, not company features. Even charts should speak for them—“How customers see us,” “Where your investment grows”—not “Our company performance.”

Keep It Simple, Involve the Audience

Use visuals sparingly. Read headlines aloud so listeners aren’t torn between eyes and ears. Short lists (“Three reasons we’ll win”) help memory. Engage the audience with questions or stories, but never gimmicks. Ogilvy’s own dramatic touches—a Russian nesting doll illustrating recruitment philosophy—worked because metaphor reinforced message, not ego. Substance must precede showmanship.

Speeches That Resonate

Turning to speeches, they quote Peggy Noonan and Adlai Stevenson to stress authenticity. Start with conviction, not jokes. Talk about what you truly care about; enthusiasm is contagious. Great speeches, from Reagan’s Challenger address to Dr. Seuss’s whimsical one-minute commencement poem, prove that short, sincere words outlive long, clever ones. Rehearse aloud until it sounds like conversation. As they sum it up: “You don’t have to be eloquent—just clear, human, and brief.”

No piece of writing, the authors insist, should leave your desk in first-draft form. Editing is not polishing—it’s thinking again. “Smoothness,” they quote lyricist Oscar Hammerstein, “is achieved only by scraping off roughness.” Editing transforms good writing into writing that works. Their advice distills to one mantra: cut, check, and test.

Cut Everything Nonessential

Mark Twain suggested cutting every third word “on principle.” Roman and Raphaelson concur: remove every idea that doesn’t serve your purpose. Redundancies, qualifiers, and hedges dilute power. Editing saves readers’ time—and your reputation. Practice this especially in emails, where brevity multiplies clarity.

Check for Logic and Tone

Read your draft as your toughest critic. Does each sentence follow logically? Could something be misunderstood? Are the facts verified? Tone, too, demands scrutiny—too stiff and you sound arrogant; too casual and you sound careless. The right tone builds trust before you’ve even finished the first paragraph.

Seek Feedback and Let It Breathe

Even experts need fresh eyes. Roman and Raphaelson suggest letting time elapse between drafts—overnight, if possible. Distance reveals flaws you couldn’t see yesterday. Then ask others to “Please Improve,” as advertising legend David Ogilvy once wrote on his memos. The best writers, they note, work in teams of editors and readers. Writing may start alone, but good editing is collaborative.

Editing, then, is the true test of professionalism. It separates those who dash off words from those who make words deliver results. If writing is thinking made visible, editing is thinking made clear.