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We learn to outline our writing in about the fifth grade. I loved the mechanics of it. How symmetrical the page looked with the alphabet and Roman numerals lined up in the left margin! Have I used that skill as a writer? Not really. So – no surprise here – I don’t require my university students to do it either.

In my business communication course, students craft a variety of content in myriad formats: Proposals, emails, blog posts, formal letters and presentations, to name a few. Unless you’re on staff at The Atlantic or have a book deal with Random House, these are the kinds of routine writing most people do. In my class, thesis statements are needed for major research projects. Drafts set mile markers for time management. But outlines would be … busywork. And something else for me to grade.

More useful than knowing how to set your software to format a page with letters and numerals is being able to plan and organize your writing. The starting point is so simple that students roll their eyes: Have a beginning, middle and end. But think about it. How often have you received an email that wanders endlessly, with no apparent point? How about the proposal that starts with the call to action, but with no reason or context? It happens often. We’re busy and we just want to get one. More. Email. Done. Today.

If simple is the starting point, stay there. And don’t re-invent process. Old-school reporters use who-what-where-when-why. And maybe how. Who are you writing to? What do you want them to know or to do? You get the idea.

Sometimes that’s not enough for the project in front of us. It’s complex. It’s unclear even to the you, writer. Too much or not enough? Is everything here that needs to be here, and no more? Then, it’s okay to look to the prolific magazine writer or storied authors of fiction for ideas.

John McPhee, long-time staff writer for The New Yorker and author of 32+ books, detailed several organizing tactics in Draft 4 – On the Writing Process. Some are predictably linear; others are curiously not. One looks like a meandering river. He deftly found that one size does not fit all writing and generously shares a variety of approaches.

I was hoping for similar advice from prolific, best-selling author Stephen King in On Writing – A Memoir of the Craft. But here, King doesn’t talk about organizing as much as he talks about inspiration (“What if?”) and his toolbox of description and dialogue. Still useful in our everyday communication needs as storytelling is still a powerful influencer.

I hoped that, since my grade school days, we’d quit drilling on outlines. Apparently not. In a recent NPR interview with Kate DiCamillo, author of favorite children’s book Because of Winn-Dixie, she recounted answering questions during a school assembly. One youngster asked if she used outlines. She said no, why? Apparently, the child’s teacher emphatically required outlines for creative writing assignments. In a gentle dressing down of the instruction, DiCamillo disagreed with the requirement. After all, she said, how can you outline if you don’t yet know the ending?

I pride myself on knowing words. And how to use them. That’s what people pay me for ‘lo these many years. There are more than a million words in the English language today, but less than 200,000 in regular use. And every day, new words come into play – whether we want them to or not. Sometimes it’s just old words in new ways. Again, whether we agree or not.

Imprinted permanently for me is the first time I, being paid to write, was called to task for a word I used. A word, having heard repeatedly around me in business circles, I was sure was the perfect word for my purpose. Early in my career – and eager to excel at my new corporate communications job – I sent a draft up to my subject matter expert. Among the comments returned was an emphatic, “This is not a real word. Change it!” The individual was an up-and-coming actuary* in the insurance company we both worked for. To be second-guessed by, of all things, an actuary was – shall we say – infuriating.

I left numbers to the actuaries and assumed they left the words to me. I went straight to the bible of words, the dictionary. Hmmm. The word was not there. I checked my next-best source: the Associated Press Style Guide. Ditto. I could not argue. I was humbled. It didn’t matter that myriad business articles and annual reports found this word acceptable, it would not appear in my article. Not this time.

The word? Proactive.

Yes, I know. It’s a word now. Along with Jedi and gig economy. I get conflicting answers about how often, and more importantly HOW, new words are officially added but our language isn’t static. That’s a good thing. Yet we abuse our Mother Tongue and to little gain. I am not talking about youth. Their slang is experimental, like their lives, and part of their growing. It’s also often fleeting (Daddio? Cool, dude?). Sometimes it becomes exactly what we need to express ourselves in a new world. Business and professional circles, however, are the harshest on our language, wearing it down to a stub with no regard to the consequences: miscommunication. Mass media provide the echo chamber.

Words are here to help us communicate. Emojis can’t do it all. When we fail to use words in ways that others will understand, we fail to connect. Relationships suffer. Outcomes fail. We are frustrated. Others turn away or give up. Or worse, they believe we meant something entirely different than what we intended.

I spend a good deal of my time with university students trying to impart the importance of language in how they’ll fare in the business world. Despite their protests, I delete points for clichés and jargon, reminding them of the more than a million words they have to choose from to explain, influence, communicate. And yet I know I’m sending them out into a culture that rewards beating a perfectly useful word like “synergy” into an empty outline of its former self.

I still try because I know there will come a time when they’ll be forced to have a conversation, an important conversation. Devoid of technology. They won’t be able to grab a meme to do the job. They’ll need to use words. And the words will count.

Postscript: The word “unprecedented” does not appear in the last print version of Merriam-Webster’s dictionary that I own, although I did find entries for unhinge, unfocused and unfruitful.

*This actuary went on to a long and celebrated career at this insurance company, culminating in a lengthy stint as CEO.