On the Love of Writing

I know something about being a commercial writer by day and a novelist by night. Below are a few strategies that might help you live the life of a part-time artist with grace and equanimity (when you're tempted to take leave of your senses).

Trust. It takes time. It's a journey. Trust yourself that you will never quit until you get it right. Trust that the forces of the universe will align to give you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. Trust that you'll know when its done and you will give it up to the world when it is time.

Stop the Stinkin' Thinkin'. By this I mean stop those annoying tapes that repeat in the back of your mind, tapes with messages like: This is such dreck! I can't write. I'll never finish. No one will ever want to read this. And the opposite Stinkin' Thinkin': I've got this knocked! Damn, I'm brilliant! Notice that they're both Stinkin' Thinkin'. Just do the work. Just be in the work. Don't think about the work.

Don't talk about it too much. Just write it. Writers have talked themselves out of stories by telling the story to too many people before they write it. Don't tacitly ask for permission to write your story. No one but you can give yourself permission to write it.

Stay in the now. Something is always happening. Notice what is happening inside you and around you. Turn off the observer-artist that wants to stay aloof and only observe. As much as possible, be part of what is happening around you.

Don't hold onto your artistic writing too tightly. Avoid getting all your identity from your artistic writing while, to yourself, you trash your day job. Find the love in all of what you do. I believe my artistic writing informs my commercial writing and the other way around. So it's not: I'm an artistic writer who happens to be writing marketing communications. It's: I'm both the artistic writer and the commercial writer. I get enjoyment and identity from both.

Don't forget to have a life. Sometimes the best thing you can do to finish your story is to go see a movie with a friend.

Next month: More advice on how to clean up your copy.

SEO Strategy: Clean Up Your Language.

There are many things you can do to improve your search engine ranking results. Weaving strategically important key words into the copy on every page is the first thing that comes to mind for most folks. However, the most overlooked way to optimize your web content is to edit your copy so that it is clean, clear and succinct.

''Succinct'' means short and to the point. And sometimes you may want to find ways to say more in fewer words. That's typically what editing is all about. However, in some cases it's appropriate to use more words, not fewer. It may be counter-intuitive that effective editing can include adding words that make the content more informative, but that's the way it is. Sometimes more words say more. Sometimes they say less or just sound wordy. Good writers know the difference.

So let's imagine you've completed your first draft and you want to make it better. Here are a few approaches:

First, try deleting all the adverbs (words that end in ''ly'') in your web content. Adverbs can give readers the impression the writer is pushing a point of view. It's known as ''editorializing.''

Using this approach, a sentence like ''The reporter scrupulously checked his facts'' or ''The reporter checked his facts carefully,'' would become, ''The reporter checked his facts.'' (I could have written, ''would simply become'' but using the adverb ''simply'' would be ''leading the witness,'' no?)

Let's imagine you know facts about the reporter's technique. You would be better off writing a second sentence (directly after that first one) that describes what caused you to claim you know about the reporter's technique. Using this approach, the first sentence is a short, simple declaration of fact: ''The reporter checked his facts.'' The next sentence digs deeper, saying, for example, ''He called his sources up a second time and confirmed his facts.''

Yes, this approach might delete a single word and add a twelve-word sentence in its stead, but the writing is improved because it gives more in-depth information.

Here's another way to think about it: Adverbs like ''carefully'' and ''scrupulously'' tell. They draw conclusions for the reader. The approach I just advocated shows rather than tells. It's more informative. It lets the reader read the facts and come to his or her own conclusion.

As a second approach, try deleting all the adjectives in your writing. I readily admit adjectives can come in handy. But try this: Instead of writing that it's a large business, how about writing, ''It's a business with more than 5,000 employees in 20 countries.'' By leaning on facts instead of adjectives, your writing will be more pithy, informative and persuasive. Let the reader come to his or her own conclusion about the size of the business.

Often we use adjectives as part of descriptions. Sometimes our temptation to use adjectives in descriptions causes, shall we say, dysfunction.

For example: ''The rosy, partly clouded-over orb sank beneath the horizon.'' I'd call that sentence a pushy use of description.

Instead, see if you can write a clear, declarative sentence and then follow that iup with a separate descriptive sentence. Your description doesn't have to be in-depth. A single brushstroke of description will do:

''The sun sank beneath the horizon. Its rosy glow was partly covered by clouds.''

It's simpler and more graceful when the descriptive sentence is followed by a simple, factual sentence. This way, you get to take the reader unawares.

Here's a third approach: See if you can delete unneeded words such as ''all,'' ''every,'' ''some'' and ''that.''

The sentence, ''All students are required to arrive at school by 8:30'' could become, ''Students must arrive by 8:30.''

Why do we need the word ''all'' in that case? We don't.

Note: The second improvement I made here is to take the sentence out of passive voice, ''…are required to…'' and to put it into active voice: ''Students must arrive…''

What is passive voice? It's a state-of-being verb (''are'' or ''were,'' for example) followed by a past participle of a verb (''required,'' for example). Usually, it's better to use active voice in your writing. I have discussed active and passive voice in depth in past EWAs.

You can often delete the word ''every'' with no reduction in meaning. It is rare that the word is necessary. ''Every student is required…'' can be edited: ''Students are required.''

I've written about deleting the word ''that'' in past EWAs. A few examples: ''He thought that…'' or She knew that…'' Not to say you should always delete the word; rather, that you should always look at deleting it. Read the sentence with and without the word ''that'' to see how you like it.

That's it for this month. Next month I'll do a deep dive on passive voice and reveal the dirty little secret nobody likes to admit about passive voice.

On the Beauty of First Drafts

It is my belief that hidden in the wordiness, awkward phrases, and poor organization and logic we find in our first drafts lie our true feelings. If we could only embrace our mistakes and find out what is true for us about them, these ugly ducklings could lead us to swans. In this way, we can harness and at the same time liberate our feelings and write more effectively than ever.

Whether you can make any sense of what I just wrote or not, I hope you have an intimation of what I’m getting at.

At least one best-selling book on writing says that writers should not expect anything good to come from their first drafts besides second drafts.

I think the author wants to give writers permission to dive in and commit words to screen or paper in their first drafts. The author is saying: “Hey, expect the first draft to be awful. The sooner you finish it, the sooner you can start the second draft and really begin the writing process.” That makes sense; however, it also runs down the first draft. It causes writers to want to put distance between them and their first-draft mistakes.

My advice is the exact opposite: Think of your first drafts as things of beauty.

I readily admit that first drafts can be pretty ugly things of beauty.

All I'm saying is don’t denigrate your first drafts. Revere them.

I approach my first drafts with the same devotion an archeologist approaches artifacts of Mayan ruins. They contain important clues to deeper intensions, subtexts, stories and histories. They can open you up to new worlds.

Norman Mailer once wrote, “I write to find out what I’m thinking.”

I write to find out what I’m feeling.

Let me give you an example from my own writing.

In my novel, Revolution, which takes place in Colombia, South America, three characters are walking along an open road as it enters dense jungle. The climax to the first part of my novel and a turning point for the principal character is about to take place, and it happens in that jungle. It’s important to me to use description here to create an enchanted place where nearly anything can happen. I don’t want to tell the reader that. I want to show that through my description of the place.

So let’s look at my first attempt to describe what happens as my three characters leave a straight, open road and enter the jungle:

“Suddenly the road went down a steep hill and curved this way and that as we entered the jungle. Green and mossy green everywhere we looked. We were surrounded on both sides by tall, funny looking trees. Very tall. The trunks with a gray-cream shade you don’t see in the States. Instead of branches, they had long tendrils that hung down, long rope-branches an ape-man could use to swing from tree to tree. The only branches and leaves were at the tippy-tops where they formed a green canopy. We walked among them, looking up at them in wonder, following the straight open road that had become just a wandering dirt trail as soon as it entered the jungle.”

Pretty bad, right? Typical first-draft dreck. What is important are my feelings hidden in the awkward phraseology:

The sense of entering a strange world where anything could happen: That’s what I set out to capture.

Obviously, the “ape-man,” “tippy-tops” and “funny-looking trees” are the wrong tone, totally wrong, but they give clues to the feelings I want to engender in the reader as he or she reads this paragraph.

Obviously, “looking up at them in wonder” is telling rather than showing. Could I show that the characters are looking up without telling the reader that they are? These are the kinds of questions I’m always asking myself.

Could I describe the marked contrast of moving between non-jungle and jungle besides using the word “suddenly?” In my imagination it did happen suddenly, the moment they entered the jungle. But “suddenly” tells. Is there a way to show it?

Now let’s look my second draft of this paragraph:

“The road we were following turned into a dirt trail going this way and that, and began a steep descent as soon as we entered the jungle. Suddenly we found ourselves surrounded by countless tall, slender trees. With taupe-colored trunks they towered above us, their only branches were at the very tops where their leaves merged with those of neighboring trees to form a dark green canopy that blocked the sun.”

This is better, don’t you agree?

I replaced “suddenly” with “as soon as” and made entering the jungle into an action. It tells the story of entering the jungle through revealed description. Notice “suddenly” appears at the beginning of the second sentence. I made a mental note: “As soon as” is much stronger than “suddenly;” in the next draft consider dropping “suddenly.”

I loved “towering above” because it shows them looking up in amazement or wonderment without telling the reader that that is what they’re doing. You can disagree, but that is my opinion.

I said to myself: Look, Chuck, the trouble you’re having here describing the road is that three things are happening to it at once: 1) It’s turning from a road into a dirt trail. 2) It’s descending rapidly, going down a steep hill. 3) It’s going first right, then left, back and forth, which often happens to a road when it goes down a steep hill. Is there a better way I could express that all three things are happening at once?

“Tall, slender trees” doesn’t quite do it for me as a description, although there’s nothing wrong with those words. Maybe there’s a way to add to those words? I wanted to show the potential for magic rather than tell it. How could I do that?

Notice I dropped the talk about the vines. I’m not going to have trees with vines unless I’m going to have my characters swing on them. I have no intention of rewriting Tarzan, so I got rid of the vines.

In the next paragraph, you’ll read the current draft of that same paragraph. It’s not final. It might change again. It probably will. But this is good enough for now and accomplishes what I set out to do, to show the potential for magic as my characters enter the jungle. Here it is:

“As soon as we entered the jungle, the road we were following turned into a desultory dirt trail and began a steep descent. We found ourselves surrounded by countless tall, slender trees. With taupe-colored trunks they towered above us, their only branches at the very top where their leaves merged with those of neighboring trees to form a dark green canopy blocking out the sun.”

Instead of running away from the awkwardness in the first draft, I moved closer to it and owned it. That helped me see the beauty in my first draft. From that, I was able to piece together phrases that helped me feel my way toward a much better solution in the next draft and in the one after that.

Notice, for example, that I dropped the notion of the dirt trail having swish-backs. “Desultory” was enough. And if my readers don’t know what that word means, they can look it up. I think it works in a magical way when applied to the direction of the trail.

First drafts are covered with tracks of our emotions. We just have to get out our magnifying glasses when we examine them to find clues that will help us get to a better, second draft.

Next month, more about how to effectively edit your first drafts.

How to Write a Cool Headline

Writing a headline is as easy as 1, 2. Step 1. Write down what the communication is about in a phrase or sentence. Step 2. Type those words at the top of the page your communication is written on. Voila! Your headline! But wait! There is method to my facetiousness. It's easy to write a headline. It's not as easy to write a really cool headline: High blood pressure: Ignore it and you'll go away. Or: Stop holding your breath, America. No-fumes oven cleaning is here. There's a knack to writing a cool headline that you can learn if you practice. I can give you some tips: Write the headline early and often. Whether you're writing a news feature or an ad, start out by writing just a phrase or sentence that sums up what you think the piece is about. Don't even try to make the language pretty. As you proceed, let that headline be your creative platform. While you write, feel free to change the platform or add alternate headlines directly under it. Often, it's not until I finish a piece that I write the best headline for it. Make sure you write a headline and not a title. The title of a Gothic romance is Candlelight Ecstasy. But the headline for the ad is, "Once you've known Candlelight Ecstasy, you'll never settle for mere romance." Titles are often short theme markers, e.g., "The Year of Living Dangerously" or "Monster's Ball." Headlines are longer, benefit-laden statements meant to attract viewers or readers. Consider using a subhead. If you like writing fun titles, adding an explanatory subhead can redeem it and result in effective communication. Consider: "Lord of the Rings: The Triumph of a Door-to-door Salesman." Without the subhead, we wouldn't even know it is a pun on the popular movie. Don't write a blind headline. A blind headline is one that gives you no idea what the article or ad is about based solely on the headline. If the headline gives you no insight into what is being discussed, rewrite it to at least include the clear expression of a benefit. Use active verbs—hyperactive verbs, if possible. I once wrote an article about a company starting to do business in West Africa. The sales team actually beat a drum in villages to rouse people from their homes. I came up with "Drumbeats for business." No active verb. Then I had a brainstorm: "Beating the drum for business." The final headline was something like "Beating the drum for business in West Africa." Stay away from tired headlines. Headlines like "Airlines in for a bumpy ride," "Price of coffee perking up," and "Auto sales off to the races" have been used before. Although they may sound clever, they beg to be ignored and do not reflect well on you, your company, family or alma mater. Far better to skip the puns and pack more information into the headline, e.g., "Price of coffee up 5 percent." This comes out of a value I call "Do less better." Don't illustrate visuals—empower them. Whether it's an ad or the front cover of a brochure or a Web page, make sure your headline and visual work together, not simply describe one another. For example, consider the photo of an enthusiastically smiling person with the headline, "We're jazzed. Technology drives our core business." The headline illustrates the visual, but it doesn't provide a benefit.. What's wrong with illustrating visuals? It talks down to readers. They know what the visual is. You don't have to pound it into their heads. For example: A picture of stampeding elephants with the headline, "Don't run with the herd on Issue XYZ. Go with Product YYY." Not only is the visual "borrowed interest," the headline makes a silly pun and illustrates the issue. Awful. Consider a visual that dramatizes an issue, for example, matches arranged in the shape of a dollar sign with one match about to set them all ablaze. The headline: "A bill in Congress right now will let your savings go up in smoke unless you stop it in time." By the way, that's an example of a long headline that works. Beware of puns. Using puns in headlines is like opening a speech with a joke—you'd better know what you're doing. If your joke isn't funny, or if your pun isn't perfect, it could be embarrassing. Consider an ad for a flat monitor: "We've flattened the price on our LCD monitors." No one flattens prices, they cut prices. Thus, the pun doesn't quite work. Compare that to Wells Fargo's tagline, "The next stage." It's a pun that works 100 percent. It is remarkable how it takes the old stagecoach and makes it new, even leading edge. I was just writing an article about a business incubator moving into a brand new building. After flailing around for a while, I hit upon, "Built to build businesses." That pun can hunt! Open your soul to the real drama in the story—if there is any. This is where I tell you how to inspire yourself to write better headlines. My advice is to squint your eyes, furrow your brow and see the communication from afar. Try to connect emotionally with what's going on in the piece, and follow your instincts to an original headline. And don't always go for the short headlines; make sure your headline is saying something significant. Sometimes, a longer headline may be just what you need. Practice "Truth in Headlines." Parade Magazine recently ran a cover shot of Mel Gibson entitled "What's His Secret?" Inside the magazine, the article was headlined "Even the Bad Times Make You Better." Maybe I'm naïve, but I was actually hoping to find out Mel's secret. Of course, every editor knows she'll get great readership when she runs a "secret" headline alongside Mel Gibson's face. It would be nice to deliver the goods, however. Otherwise, the headline misrepresents and lacks integrity; we feel cheated and annoyed. Note: If you've enjoyed reading this ExcitingWriting Advisory, forward it to some friends! Your parents! Your children! Your dog! You get the idea.

Cut the Word-flab

What is wordiness? Why does it destroy reader interest? Ultimately, wordy writing is boring, annoying, and disrespectful to readers. Why? Because it wastes readers' time by making them read more words than they have to. Readers sense wordiness. They find it dispiriting. Note: You can apply these strategies with equal effectiveness to both fiction writing and business writing. We all appreciate prose that doesn't dawdle whether it's found in a novel or a newsletter. Here are seven strategies you can begin using today to avoid wordiness. Strategy #1: Rewrite. Don't expect to cure your wordiness in your first draft. Its purpose is to get your ideas down, no matter how sloppy or wordy. You can start to address wordiness in your second draft. Rewriting is my number one strategy for avoiding wordiness. What is rewriting? (Don't laugh. A lot of people don't know. A lot of people who think they know also don't know.) Rewriting is going over what you wrote with an open mind looking for ways to strengthen organization, sentence structure and word choice. A simple rewrite method: Review each sentence. See if you can express the same idea in fewer words. See if you can combine two or more sentences into one to get to the point quicker. Sound like work? It is work. To myself, I always think of it this way: It's the reason writing begins with a "w" and not an "r." The "w" stands for work. You probably know the expression, "The unexamined life isn't worth living." The unexamined sentence isn't worth reading. Strategy #2: Eliminate words and terms that are flabby. Why write "at this point in time" when you can write "now?" Why write "in my informed opinion" when you can just state your opinion. Why write "here and now" if you can delete it and keep the same meaning? Why write: "for all intents and purposes?" "above and beyond?" "free and clear?" "each and every?" "part and parcel?" "various and sundry?" or "one and only?" when you can cut those flabby expressions and write what you really want to express. Phrases like those add little meaning. They give your reader the impression of flabby writing. And what if I want to say that you personally went over "each and every entry?" My suggestion: Assert that you did that in a separate sentence. Example of flabby sentence: "The team carefully reviewed each and every one of the 1,500 entries looking for ten kinds of common mistakes." Lean sentences: The team reviewed the 1500 entries for ten kinds of common mistakes. Not one was ignored. Strategy #3: Eliminate puffery that sounds as though you enjoy reading your own words. We've all heard members of Congress speak as though they believe they're getting paid by the word: "It's come to our attention at this particular juncture in time… which makes it incumbent upon me to protest vehemently…" Speak and write as though your compensation plan is exactly the opposite: The more words you use, the less you get paid. It's a sure cure for wordy writing. Strategy #4: Focus on the "payload" of each sentence. When NASA was sending satellites around the earth, each rocket had a "payload." It was the reason why the rocket was being launched. In the same way, every sentence has a payload. It's the reason that sentence is being written. When rewriting, first determine what the payload of each sentence is. Then look for ways to deliver that payload in fewer words. Example: The main reason for the dog's aggressiveness overall was his somewhat malnourished state and the manner in which he was confined in a cage most of the time. The payload of that sentence: Explaining why the dog was aggressive. Express it in a simple sentence. Edited example: The dog was aggressive because he was hungry and confined to a cage. Strategy #5: Cut redundancy. What do the terms, "baby puppies," "completely done," "end result," "must-do requirements," "inadvertent accident," and "past history" all have in common? They are all redundancies. All puppies are babies. Just call them puppies. Either it's done or it's not done. Using the phrase "completely done" is a waste of words. All results are the same as "end results" so drop the word "end." All requirements have to be completed, so writing "must-do requirements" is a waste of words. Stategy #6: Cut vague words. They may sound important, but words like "situation," "totally," "factor," "element," "absolutely," "aspect," "type," "nature" and "kind" are often a waste. By cutting them, you can sharpen the meaning of your sentences. Wordy example: The absolutely ridiculous situation he found himself in caused him to totally rethink the kind of response he would come back with. Edited example: His ridiculous circumstance caused him to rethink his response. Strategy #7: Rewrite sentences that begin with "It is/was," "there is/are." Rewrite sentences that claim, "It can be said." Sentences that begin with "It was" or "there are" should be rewritten. Flabby: "It was between 1786 and 1793 that it can be said that The Enlightenment came into full-flower." Edited: The Enlightenment came into its own between 1786 and 1793. Next month: More on lean writing.

Write Lean

Welcome back. Gina Cole Whitlock and I were wed Sunday, May 22nd. As we stood before relatives and friends, we both said, ''I do,'' two short words that change lives. To avoid wordiness, get to the point, just as Gina and I did last Sunday. Getting to the point does not require that you get married. It requires a commitment to expressing what you have to say in as few words as possible. This month: Tips on avoiding wordiness. Note: We are honeymooning in Paris for two weeks. We arrived safely today. I am sending you this EWA from our charming apartment at No. 1 Rue St. Hyacinthe in the 2eme arrondissement (Opera Vendome). How lovely! This is not a 12-step program designed to help you kick the wordiness habit, but if it were, step #1 would be, ''Admit that you write wordy, and that it sometimes gets out of control.'' You're not alone. Everyone writes wordy prose from time to time, and experiences moments of clarity when they write the equivalent of ''I do.'' This EWA explains why you should avoid wordiness. It covers strategies you can use to break your wordiness habit. It is a habit. You can break old habits and learn to write lean and say what you mean. Why avoid wordiness? Wordiness bores readers. They quickly lose interest and stop reading when writers obscure their meaning. Don't make them muck through knee-deep prose. Effective web writing uses as few words as possible to deliver the most meaning. Search engine optimized web content, for example, is always lean and clean. It weaves together key words and terms simply and logically. Lean writing attracts readers. It is authoritative. It shows respect for your readers' time and intelligence by delivering the most meaning in the fewest words possible. It is simple and logical. It holds up to rigorous scrutiny. Why are writers wordy? 1. They want their ideas to be taken seriously so they use overblown rhetoric. Wordy example: Due to the current election laws, Republicans have become dependent on PAC money that only encourages negative campaigning and personality attacks at the expense of the public discourse on palpable issues. Democrats are emulating the dependence on PAC money as they encourage contributors and donors to give the lion's share of their donations to the PACs and reserve a much smaller percentage to actually support their candidate. The entire electoral process has become poisoned. Lean example: Today's election laws cause both parties to encourage PAC contributions over donations in direct support of candidates. PACs on both sides have used donations to air negative attack ads that have served to poison the electoral process. The wordy example editorializes by larding on adjectives, adverbs and idiomatic expressions. Words such as ''current,'' ''dependent,'' ''palpable issues,'' makes me suspicious. I trust the writer of the lean example more, don't you? 2. They want to play it safe (and avoid being original), so they use wordy clichés and mixed metaphors that dilute meaning and leave readers in the dark. Wordy example: If you want to catch a rat you have to come up with a better mousetrap. That's what the Congressional Oversight Committee found when they began to smell something fishy over at the General Services Administration, what with million-dollar meetings in Las Vegas which netted them a bountiful catch of leopards with larceny on the prowl at wild parties and lost weekends that the Las Vegas Tourist Commission had only rivaled Hangover II for seediness, and caused them to think ''What happens here, stays here.'' Well, in this case, that's not how it turned out. Lean example: Congressional Oversight began investigating the General Services Administration when unnecessary million-dollar Las Vegas meetings came to light. Summary: Avoid clichés. Say what you want your readers to know as simply as possible. Next month: More specific strategies that will help you break the wordiness habit. Until then, remember the power of ''I do.'' Strive to make your meaning as clear as Gina and I were last Sunday.

Addicted to Impacts

Welcome back. I did not realize how much the word ''impact'' is overused in the media until Wilma Mathews mentioned the trend. I thank and credit her for suggesting I use it as a topic in an EWA. And here it is. I hope this issue of my newsletter impacts your word choices going forward.
Note: If you would like to consult past EWA issues, visit my blog on my LinkedIn profile.

As a hurricane approached the East Coast last fall, the American public got hit with a hurricane of a very different kind, as announcers and weather reporters overused the word ''impact'' in describing the storm's effects.

Using ''impact'' as a noun, there were the storm's economic impact, erosion impact and flood impact. Using the word as a verb, the storm impacted the coast as it came ashore; and was about to impact communications, roads, beaches, fresh water supplies, the electric grid and nearly every other resource. In addition, using the word as an adjective, the hurricane was ''impactful.'' That sounds pretty weak for a Force Three hurricane, don't you agree?

If you begin to listen for the word impact, you begin to hear it everywhere. It seems to spring out of nowhere like bunny rabbits at Eastertime.

Do these impacts sound familiar?
Economic impact
School-shooter impact
9/11 impact on our sense of safety
Foreign government debt-default impact
Impact of Middle Eastern tensions
Business hiring impact
Stock market and bond market impacts
NFL concussion-controversy impact
Unemployment or job-creation number impact
The impact of the jobless report
Earnings impact
The lingering impacts of the recession
The delegate-count impact
Mortgage foreclosure impact
Tornado impact
Global warming impact
Oil spill impacts
The impact of multiple deployments

Here's my thesis: This word is overused. Many synonyms for the word will do just as well, if not better, but the media has fallen into a rut. Overdependence on the word is not only journalistically lazy; it is non-descriptive. It vaguely refers to something without committing the speaker or writer to saying anything specific.

Here's my suspicion: Confusion over affect/effect usage is one cause for the popularity of impact. No one is ever confused over the use of the word impact.

Something about the word appeals to elite media types in the U.S. and on the B.B.C (at least the U.S. version of the B.B.C. I sometimes listen to). It sounds important; it carries a sense of gravitas. It is a noun that takes adjectives nicely and sounds quotable. It has what I call a ''meta-aura'' about it. It sounds intelligent and makes a reporter who uses it appear knowledgeable.

The primary use as a noun is to describe a collision, ''the moment of impact,'' for example. Other words that might work just as well: bang, blow, bounce, buffet, crash, crush, kick, knock, rock, shock, strike and stroke.

Today, as a noun, impact is used as a synonym for aftermath. Other words beside aftermath that could be used just as effectively: aftereffects, aftershocks, lingering effects, effects, long-range consequences, pay offs, results, and upshots.

As a verb, reporters could describe how one thing affects another, or how it crashes, jolts, kicks, strikes, smashes up, implode, or explodes something else, a myth, for example.

As I said at the top, I hope this EWA impacts your use of this word and causes a smashup in your word choice, which causes you to swear off use of this word for the foreseeable future, at least for the next five minutes.