I’m OK with anything you do with the English language that makes it more expressive and doesn’t sacrifice its logic (such as it is).
But often, new ways of using English make sentences weaker, less communicative, and wimpy. I’m experiencing that with people using ‘experience’ as a verb.
“The patient is experiencing pain.” That should be, “She feels pain,” or, “That hurts.”
“Experiencing” in this sentence creates distance, avoiding the discomfort that simple, clear language might produce when it makes us think about how the patient actually feels.
The word “experience” has spread far and wide, often taking the place of “have” or “be.”
“The agricultural land will experience precipitation,” instead of, “Rain will fall on the farms.”
Is it necessary to mention that inanimate objects cannot have experiences?
Many non-professional writers avoid the simple, strong words that would convey their meaning best, going instead with vague jargon and multisyllabic synonyms.
“Implement” rather than “do.”
“Momentarily” rather than “soon.”
“Result in” rather than “cause.”
Clarity can make people feel vulnerable. Flabby, neutral writing feels safer. These writers select vague words the way a shy guy chooses nondescript clothes—not realizing that blending in is also a look, just not a good one.
A close cousin to this bad habit is passive voice, which hides the actor in the sentence. The classic example is Richard Nixon’s, “Mistakes were made.”
Passive voice was used—and made it all sound more suspicious.
Scientists are taught to use passive voice. “The samples were placed in test tubes.” Who put the samples in the test tubes? Why not say “laboratory techs” or “research team members” put the samples in the test tubes?
There is no good reason for this tradition. It serves a desire to sound clinical and removed, and perhaps objective and godlike, as if the experiment conducted itself. But we know that isn’t true. Science contains as much human agency as any other endeavor. All scientific passive voice does is convey less meaning by removing the person responsible for the action.
These are simple rules of style and could be printed on a card. I have a bunch more, plus tricks that help brains decode sentences more easily and thus allow you to load them up with more information (the simplest of these—get your verb as near to the beginning of the sentence as you can).
But good writing is more than a set of rules. It’s about connecting with another person, your reader.
And that brings me to the most important rule of all: don’t write for yourself (or for your insecurities), write for your reader. If you follow that rule, you will find yourself avoiding words that intentionally hide or muddy your meaning. Clarity and honesty can hurt. (Experiencing pain may result.) But what’s the point of filling the word with more mealy-mouthed crap?
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