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patron saint of writers. Any writing project, even a small one, seems a Sisyphean task if you feel you're going nowhere—a common feeling among writers.
    Sometimes, though, you'll think you're going nowhere when in fact you've almost arrived. That's because progress seldom announces itself. It comes in increments, without orchestral accompaniment, so don't think you're toiling in vain because you don't hear a flourish of trumpets every time you write. When you learn to recognize signs of progress, you won't feel you're running in place. Here are some signs to look for. Don't expect to see them all. Even one can keep you going.
• You've met your quota. If you've set a quota—a number of words or pages you hope to produce each time you write—you have a built-in progress meter. If you don't have a quota, and if you work on a computer, do a word count at the end of each session. I do this every time I write, if only to watch the numbers change. When the count grows, that's progress. When the count shrinks, that can be progress, too—if I've cut out something dumb.
    â€¢Â You've done your time. Even if you haven't written very much at a sitting, at least you've started on time, finished on time, and done some thinking in between. Keeping to a schedule is definitely progress.
    â€¢Â Your writing holds up. If it still looks good to you the next day, it probably is.
    â€¢Â You can't wait to get back to work. Now you're getting somewhere.
    â€¢Â You can't stop. Let's not kid ourselves. No one feels like this every day.
    â€¢Â You're not afraid to show your writing. If you have the confidence to ask for someone else's opinion, you've made progress.
    â€¢Â You can take criticism without collapsing. Well, you asked for it, didn't you? Besides, if criticism helps you get your project back on track, that's progress. (If only I could follow my own advice!)
The Payoff
    When you read something you love, something so beautiful and right and true that it leaves you breathless with admiration, you probably think, "Words come easy to her," or "His writing is effortless." That's what writers want you to think. But the effortless feel of good writing takes effort to achieve. As Samuel Johnson put it, "What is written without effort is in general read without pleasure."
    Don't think that what's hard for you comes naturally to others. Everyone has to work at writing well. But there's a payoff—two payoffs, actually.
    First, the techniques for writing well aren't hard to learn. And they work! You'll find them in the chapters ahead, the fundamentals and then the fine points.
    Second, effort really does make a difference. If you work at your writing, even a little, you'll see results. You may not use every bit of advice in this book, but any improvement at all is worth the trouble. Remove only one word of jargon, sharpen only one fuzzy idea, goose only one sentence with a livelier verb, and your writing will be that much better.

PART 2
The Fundamental Things Apply

6. Pompous Circumstances
HOLD THE BALONEY
    This has happened to me, and I'm sure it's happened to you. You're listening to people talk, at a board meeting or a seminar or a discussion group or even at some la-di-da cocktail party, and everyone is being
soooo
impressive. The pretentious language gets deeper and deeper, until you're up to your knees in big words and bureaucratic/academic/ corporate gobbledygook.
    Just as you're thinking you'd rather be somewhere else, a voice of reason pipes up with a simple question or comment that cuts through the baloney:
    "Yes, but does it work?"
    Or: "By 'eggplant' you mean purple."
    Or: "In other words, we're fired."
    Refreshing, isn't it?
    If this were a better world, everyone would write and speak simply and clearly all the time. Unfortunately, we're not always comfortable with the audience or the subject. When we're insecure—perhaps we don't know enough, we don't trust our understanding, or