Yet, while most would agree that looking presentable is an essential aspect of professional life, attention to written style is rarely followed as closely as the season’s fashion trends. I’m not sure how to account for this, particularly given the impressive resumes tossed around inside the beltway, boasting degrees from Harvard, Georgetown, et al. The Ivy League and other schools cost tens of thousands of dollars a year, and if after an expensive degree, one believes comma placement is interpretive and optional, someone hasn’t been paying attention.

By “style” I mean the mechanics of writing – grammar, punctuation and phrasing. What I do not mean is personal style – the way you write, your tone and voice. Personal style exists for editorials, blogs and memoirs; the style discussed here applies to all writing.

Professional writing is more than using your spell check and doing what you can to get rid of the green squiggly lines Microsoft Word inserts when your sentences aren’t quite sentences. Truly professional writing follows the rules 99 percent of the time, and breaks them once in a blue moon – and even then, intentionally.

Perhaps the biggest challenge to a widespread adherence to style is that it isn’t always seen as essential. When time is money, style can become superfluous and expendable. Why spend billable hours ensuring your copy meets the highest standards? So long as the content is there, that’s good enough, right? Sure, and if I don’t have to see my clients in person until next week, I’ll just wear my pajamas tomorrow.

Style is important, because it places your writing within a context of commonly agreed upon methods for written communication. The written word can be more difficult to understand than spoken words because it lacks the intonation and physical gestures that help us express ourselves. That’s one reason style exists. It enhances ideas, helping words carry maximum meaning and clarity because as English speakers and writers, we have a common understanding of what style tells us about the content.

Conversely, incorrect use (or absence) of style hinders communication. Readers are confused by inconsistent or absent style. To keep a reader’s attention focused on content and the important concepts therein, style must be consistent and accurate.

Style also contributes to brand reputation. Although a company, organization or agency is made up of many professionals, its public face must be singular – one voice expressing the same concepts and practices in the same way. Multiple styles originating from the same source prevents a cohesive voice and can cause serious issues with quality control.

Here are some resources to help put you on the road to clean style:

Books on Style

The Elements of Style, by William Strunk and E.B. White: Ask any writer or editor for the best book on composing clean copy in English, and Strunk and White will be in the top five. On my bookshelf, I keep this one next to my religious texts. ‘Nuff said.

A Writer’s Reference, by Diana Hacker: This is the shopping mall of good style. I’ve been referencing this book for nearly a decade, and I always come away with another best practice.

Style Guides

Associated Press: Sometimes called the Journalist’s Bible, this has long been a standard for correct style. It’s a good place to look when seeking style for specific words or phrasing (e.g., spelling for website or e-mail), punctuation use and when to capitalize.

Government Printing Office (GPO): Though not always perfect, government publications do strive for correct style. That’s why the GPO put together an extensive style manual. It’s a solid resource, whatever your industry.

Chicago: If you went to college, chances are you’ve run into Chicago style before. It’s a good one, particularly for more academic writing.

No one is perfect, and even the best writers can miss things. But here’s my pitch – for all the hours you spend attending to your wardrobe and hairdo, dedicate a few minutes to improving your attention to style. It’s no less important, and if you want to stand out as a professional, there are far fewer who can boast good style than good fashion.

Drawing from twentieth-century thinkers in the postmodern/deconstructionist schools, language is understood as a structure humans impose on the world. It’s easy to forget that language is not inherent. Our thoughts don’t emerge as words; yet, to be understood, one must translate thought to language. This is no easy task, one that requires precision and a focus on relaying meaning. Extra words, words with little to no meaning, or words that are not recognized or understood by most readers do not help this process. They hurt it. They get in the way and are stumbling blocks to full comprehension.

To that end, I have stricken several words from my written vocabulary. A few include utilize, very and well as a modifier. When I tried to explain the value and logic of this to Adfero partner and fellow writer Chris Battle, he called me an elitist and laughed. And so a debate over word choice has raged at Adfero and on the streets of Washington, DC.

In one corner we have Battle, a consummate and emotional writer, a skilled journalist with years of experience playing with words and meaning, and also an expert communications strategist who understands words as tools, all of which may be useful in the quest to explain oneself.

In the other corner we have me. I’m also a writer and a PR guy.

Battle says, if it’s in the Oxford English Dictionary, then it’s a word, and he wants to be able to use it when he has reason to based on the kind of emotion he’s trying to elicit or the rhythm or meter of the phrase or for a variety of other reasons.

I say, there’s more than one way to write a cat, and if you avoid the easy, meaningless words, a world of clearer phrasing awaits you.

My voice is not definitive, and it makes no difference to me if Battle and others want to lug around a ten-ton dictionary because it is comforting to know they have every word at their disposal, even if they never use them all.

Me, I’m only concerned with words that have clear and powerful meaning.

Certainly meaning isn’t only relayed in definition. Context, phrasing and word combinations can convey meaning that transcends definition, such as with a complex emotion. But not all writing requires that kind of nuance, and I don’t like to play games with my readers in any case. If I have something to say, I write directly and with words that most easily translate back to pure thought in my readers’ minds.

Show me an instance where utilize is clearer than use, when very is clearer than a descriptive modifier or, hell, any other word. I’m not concerned with waxing hypothetical. In practice, these words have little to no place in effective, cogent writing.

Now, Battle is surely hopping mad at this point. “But we do use very,” I can almost hear him saying. “It is meaningful in how it is used and in what context.”

Enter Ernest Hemingway.

As it happens, The Sun Also Rises inspired both Battle and me, decades ago respectively, to pursue writing as a profession. Hemingway was a powerful writer, with the ability to inspire readers as well as would-be writers. And as Battle has noted ad nauseam, “he used very all the time!”

But let’s not forget Samuel Clemens’ (aka Mark Twain) famous line: “Substitute damn every time you’re inclined to write very; your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.”

Hmmm. Two great American writers, clearly at odds with one another. What is one to do?

In the end, I won’t convince Battle that my position is correct; nor will he convince me. Writing is a subjective art, not an exact science. There is no right answer, though there is better practice. I will accept that a good writer must be open to all words when crafting prose, if Battle and like-minded writers will accept that, outside of that rare, magic moment when utilize is the right word, in almost every other case, it is not.

And by that measure, less is almost always more.

This piece was originally posted on the Adfero Group website.