Trying to get fancy
You could serve fresh fruit — or you could put a hat on a hat. (The Everyday Cook and Recipe Book, Neil, 1891)
In teaching middle school writing, I’ve observed that so-called “creative writing” techniques get in the way of clear communication.
Elementary students are encouraged to use metaphor, descriptions of sensory experiences, and colorful adverbs and adjectives.
The result is that, by the time they get to middle school, half of the students are submitting work that is florid and overwrought.
The other half have difficulty writing anything at all, struggling to even start an assignment.
We’ve made it too complicated.
What I’ve learned from the work of Dena Luchsinger and from my high school literature and composition teacher, Mark Kelly, is that, above all, people need to learn how to communicate clearly.
Most students are not novelists in training — and if they are, they can still benefit from learning how to communicate clearly. We can strip away all of the artifice and get our message across in fewer words, which helps the flowery writers and reluctant ones alike.
Instead of trying to get fancy, we can say what we need to say as directly as possible. That succinct, effective communication provides a foundation for any other writing that we may do.
It’s not just in writing that this problem of “trying to get fancy” shows up. Anyone who has seen their simple, private wedding balloon into a multi-day ordeal with hundreds of guests has gone off of this particular cliff.
When we feel insecure about what we’re offering to a client or employer, we might pad it out with lots of bells and whistles, believing that what we started with isn’t enough.
And we might second-guess our vision for a piece of art, believing it to be too simple and modest.
I’ve even fallen victim to “trying to get fancy” on the tennis court, missing an easy shot because I hit it too hard or angled it too far in an attempt to overwhelm my opponent.
I can understand why, in fields from fashion to finance, people want to be special and different and groundbreaking. Sometimes, the risk pays off.
But that doesn’t mean that attempting to stand out is always the way to go. If you’re not a professional designer, you can submit a resume that looks like other resumes. If you’re not on what Tom and Lorenzo would call “the lowest difficulty setting” (with the looks of a model or actor), you can show up at the event wearing boring black that fits the dress code.
And you can cook tried-and-tested recipes for your dinner party instead of going all out. Or maybe you don’t even have to host a formal dinner party at all.
There are some areas of life where you might want to get fancy. Where you have the skill and confidence to carry it off with aplomb, go for it! But that doesn’t mean that you have to meet this standard in every aspect. If you’re well out of your wheelhouse, you’ll probably do better if you keep it simple.
For so many of us, the harder we try, the more strained our results will be. On the other hand, there is a beauty and elegance that often accompanies restraint and simplicity, whether we’re talking about prose for a school assignment or the design of a home.
“Less is more” isn’t a copout. Sometimes it’s just the approach that is needed — just the thing to save us from overwhelm and frustration. It may be all you need.
