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More notes on how advertising or marketing language completely kills writing.
We’ve already written a lot about marketing language, specifically cliches.
This story, 10 Words and Phrases we Never Want to See in Travel Writing Again has, as of this morning, almost 44,000 views. So I know this information is getting out.
But it seems like writers are always finding new ways to get marketing style language in their narrative or travel writing, even if it’s not straight up cliches. Sometimes it’s just the structures commonly used in advertising and commercials.People watch TV, movies, listen to the radio, and the rhythms are so ubiquitous they end up embedded in people’s language, speech, and writing.
With that said, let’s look at three of the most common of these marketing ‘constructions’ and how they subvert your storytelling authenticity.
1. The “Casual Imperative”
I don’t know how this gained popularity, but you see it all the time in destination pieces. It’s where the narrator switches from simply telling a story, for example, “Every year I visit my parents in Sarasota,” or giving information, for example, “Sarasota has good used bookstores,” to this kind of casual, friendly-but-imperative style language. As soon as I start reading it, it’s hard not to automatically give it a ‘big movie-man announcer’ style voiceover in my head:
Walk barefoot on the white sand beaches of Siesta Key; indulge in the numerous restaurants in St. Armand’s circle. Catch up on your reading at one of Sarasota’s incredible bookstores!
The exclamation point is often a giveaway.
2. The “Hey, Let Me Show You”
This is where the narrator withholds a certain bit of information in one sentence, and then drops it into a second sentence (or later in the first sentence) as a kind of ‘punchline.’ It’s essentially forcing on the reader a certain importance or specialness of whatever is mentioned. But this construction creates the exact opposite effect: it makes you want to stop reading.
In Siesta Key there is one thing you won’t find anywhere else. It’s sand, sand the consistency of talcum powder.
Again, if you read this sentence imagining a movie-trailer voice it adds to the effect.
3. The “Hypothetical”
This one is similar to the “hey let me show you,” only instead of two statements, the narrator asks him or herself a question:
How many people wouldn’t want to live next to a beach like this?
The hypothetical, like the other two constructions, fails because it tries to force the reader into feeling a certain way about the story or question rather than just asking the question or telling the story and letting the reader think / feel for herself.
Note that there is a subtle difference between the hypothetical above (where the implications are your feelings / desires) and a straight up question that flows directly out of the narrator’s logic / voice, such as: “How many people in this gated community have actually spoken to their next door neighbors?”
In general, any of these marketing / advertising style constructions are total anti-stoke. They make me stop reading whatever it is. If you need help recognizing them in your own reading, try reading your drafts out loud, noticing if ever it feels like what you’re saying sounds like it’s part of a movie trailer.
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19 Comments... join the discussion!
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All solid tips David.
While #1 has no place in straight up travel narratives, it can also be debated based on a publication’s style.
A lot of FOB (front of book) pieces in destination magazines usually have elements of the “casual imperative” language. Though not appealing to many writers, this language may work for the magazine’s own voice.
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I agree with Lola’s point about “casual imperative” in destination magazines. That’s how they market themselves to travelers.
Great point about the “movie announcer” playing in your head. Your post is a reminder for travel writers who become comfortable with their writing. When you become comfortable you can become complacent. Dare to write in a different style and tone because it can take you places you never imagined.
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Solid tips, fo sho
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Lola beat me to the point about #1 – definitely jarring in first-person narratives, but in many more information-based stories it’s not only allowed, but expected.
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@Eva, Lola, et. al.:
I recognize that the “casual imperative’ is accepted and even “expected” by certain writers, editors, and publishers. But that doesn’t diminish its inherent ‘weak-ass-ness’ in my opinion.
My point in this piece was to help beginning writers identify this kind of language in their own writing, and to realize the unintended effects it can have regardless of whether it’s “acceptable” or not.
If individual writers still feel compelled to use this kind of language as a ploy to increase their chances of publication at specific markets, that’s their prerogative. But ideally they should at least be conscious of doing this as a strategy rather than just writing like this because they’re simply following the ’standard practice’ of what’s ‘out there.’
I reject marketing language in any form that’s couched as ‘travel writing’ (It isn’t; It’s marketing / advertising copy,) and believe it’s either an outdated frame of reference (on the publishers/advertisers’ part), simple economic desperation, or a lack of interest as far as writing anything with ‘literary merit’ that leads editors and writers to continue producing this kind of material.
The irony is that you can write a sponsored post, a full-on transparent endorsement of something and still have it be travel writing–all without ‘resorting to’ any of this kind of language. [Which, is what we're proving at Matador and what I believe, is the future of advertising online.]
But the point of all of this is the language–verbs, nouns, adjectives, and how you use them. And as a putative ‘community’ of writers and editors, if we’re not actively challenging, or at the very least questioning, these stylistic ’standards,’ then are we not tacitly approving of the way travel writing is so often degraded from a literary practice to language ‘commodified’?
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@David – I don’t think we’re arguing against the fact the “casual imperatives” are weak. Writers should always be cognizant of that type of lazy language seeping into their original work.
What I’m highlighting talks specifically to the FOBs of large glossy magazines that those very writers may want as bylines. After all, there are different types of “travel” writing: from narratives to service-y pieces and guidebook writing.
Writers should be made aware that some magazines require this style and that they can choose to stay clear.
My two cents.
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Agreed with Lola (again – ha). I’m not questioning the idea that the “casual imperative” style of many newspaper travel stories, guidebooks etc. lacks literary merit as a general rule. (Although, see “The Lonely Planet Guide to my Apartment” for the inevitable exception.) But I think these sorts of guidelines require a bit more context – some clarification that these stylistic shortcuts might “ruin your stories” but they don’t ruin your publication chances, that in fact the opposite is sometimes true. These things make you stop reading, David, but they don’t have that effect on a lot of editors – so yeah, it’s important for writers to be aware of the choices they’re making, but also of the variable impact of those choices depending on the outlet in question. Right?
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Super relevant tips. So so tired of reading these types of overused cliches.
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Anti-stoke! I like that, like anti-matter!
But lemme play Satan’s bookkeeper here and ask, ‘If we are seeing these lame anti-stoke constructions up front in major magazines, then folks are obviously having commercial success with these styles.
So what’s a writer trying to break in do? Be original and recognize the shit from the Shamwow? Or get things published and cash checks?Do you have to choose?
Thoughts David, Lola…anyone?↵ -
@Joshywashington – It really is a personal choice the writer has to make especially when bills have to be paid.
It would be interesting to ask “mainstream” (I know) professional writers how they started their journeys, who they wrote for, why they wrote the way they did before ultimately landing those book deals which now allots them free-reign to do and write as they please.
I personally believe it’s all about finding a balance.
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Worth noting: Salman Rushdie wrote advertising copy to pay the bills while working on Midnight’s Children. (After that one hit the shelves, I guess he didn’t need the day job anymore…
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It’s fine when you use these constructions in publications that tolerate/encourage them. The problem starts when they slip subconsciously into your writing, to the point where you can’t tell your own voice from the movie trailer guy’s. Awareness is key to preventing this, which is what I take David’s point to be.
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sweet Hal. you just wrote this at the same time as I was responding to Eva above.
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We all seem to be in agreement here. Advertising copy has its place, obviously.
But generally, writers don’t need instruction on how to produce it–it flows like diarrhea because we’ve seen/heard it so damn much. What’s harder, what takes practice and benefits from instruction, is producing meaningful narrative, which is why reminders like this are helpful.
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Solid points. In my totally unqualified opinion, I think it’s a slippery slope to state which writing styles are travel writing and which aren’t. Do I think that narrative travel writing would be considered the highest art form for travel writing? Absolutely. Do I think a Shostakovich string quartet or Oscar Peterson solo would be considered the highest art form for music? Yes. And striving to be able to write/perform in these idioms is the goal. However, personal taste is always subjective and people don’t always have the desire to read the most perfectly crafted piece of writing or music. Sometimes I just want to put on Bob Seger just for the hell of it. And sometimes I just want to write or read something that may not have the greatest artistic credibility. And yes, I suppose that all comes down to mindfulness and knowing which is which.
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#3 sounds a lot like a rhetorical question
Is that really such a writing disaster? I’d like to read more thoughts on this.
I mean, who doesn’t like a rhetorical question?
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Thanks for your question Maureen.
Yes, it is essentially a rhetorical question.
And the last sentence of your comment illustrates the point exactly.
“I mean, who doesn’t like a rhetorical question?”
Rhetorical questions are constructed in such a way as to point the reader towards a particular answer or response.
For example, the way your sentence above is written implies 1. that you as its author ’speak’ for other people, 2. that this group of people ‘believes’ rhetorical questions are ‘likable’ and 3. this group is the majority–that it’s somehow out of the ordinary to ‘not like’ a rhetorical question.
But you could’ve just as easily written the sentence to work the other way, for example:
“Who hasn’t read enough meaningless rhetorical questions?”
In this case, the sentence is using the same construction, only trying to lead the reader in the opposite direction–to imply that rhetorical questions are somehow ‘not likable.’
Rhetorical questions are one of the classic examples of fallacious arguments or “logical fallacies.” There is a great compendium of these here: http://www.don-lindsay-archive.org/skeptic/arguments.html
If you’re unfamiliar with rhetoric (I know I never studied it in school but had to learn it later, on my own), a logical fallacy is a rhetorical trick used to obscure logical reasoning.
Wikipedia defines a logical fallacy as writing that “exploits emotional triggers or takes advantage of social relationships between people.” This includes rhetorical questions.
Smart readers will always recognize and ’see through’ logical fallacies. They’ll know when they’re being ‘triggered’.
If the writer is really just trying to sell products or produce ad copy, then this point may or may not be relevant. But if he or she is trying to progress as a writer, or has any hopes of producing work with literary merit, then he or she needs to have a fundamental understanding of how all constructions not only work but can work against credibility.
One last little point I’ll make so, hopefully, this doesn’t come off sounding all negative or whatever: questions–not rhetorical, but simply ‘honest questions’, can work well to gain credibility.
Look at the difference between these two examples:“Who doesn’t get bored of traveling with the same partner?” [rhtetorical / hypothetical]
“How can I keep from getting bored of traveling with the same partner?” [straight up]
It all comes down to avoiding constructions that ‘lead’ the reader.
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Thanks for the post and the additional information you provide throughout the comments. I found it very useful, particularly because I am not a native English. And I believe it’s absolutely true that we got so used to some formulas that we do not notice them anymore. Yours is a good reminder to all those who are interested not only in the contents they’re writing but also in the form.
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