Lawyers
love
to
say
they
“need
to
work
on
their
writing.”
Translation:
they’ve
read
something
they
wrote,
felt
that
little
stomach
drop,
and
thought,
This
doesn’t
sound
like
me.
This
doesn’t
even
sound
clear.
Here’s
the
good
news:
writing
isn’t
a
talent.
It’s
a
skill.
And
skills
respond
to
the
same
cure
as
every
other
skill:
reps.
Not
glamorous
reps.
Not
the
kind
that
gets
applause.
The
kind
you
do
in
small
rooms,
when
no
one
is
watching,
when
you’re
a
little
uncomfortable,
when
you
want
to
quit
halfway
through
because
the
sentence
you
just
wrote
feels
like
wet
cardboard.
That’s
the
work.
To
develop
your
writing
system,
identify
specific
habits
like
outlining
themes,
drafting
quickly,
and
rewriting,
because
concrete
practices
make
improvement
tangible
and
achievable.
1.
Stop
writing
to
impress.
Start
writing
to
be
understood.
Most
legal
writing
problems
aren’t
“writing”
problems.
They’re
intention
problems.
When
lawyers
sit
down
to
write,
too
many
of
them
are
trying
to:
-
sound
smart; -
sound
formal; -
sound
“lawyerly”; -
avoid
being
wrong;
and -
cover
every
base.
That’s
how
we
end
up
with
prose
that’s
technically
correct
but
emotionally
dead.
It
reads
like
it
was
drafted
by
a
committee
that
hates
the
reader.
If
you
take
nothing
else
from
this
column,
take
this:
Your
job
is
not
to
sound
like
a
lawyer.
Your
job
is
to
help
a
reader
decide.
That
reader
might
be
a
judge
who
has
70
motions
on
the
docket.
Or
an
adjuster
who
is
scanning
your
demand
at
11:30
p.m.,
or
a
general
counsel
who
is
trying
to
explain
your
advice
to
a
CEO
who
doesn’t
speak
legal.
Write
to
be
understood.
Everything
else
is
ego.
2.
Clarity
is
kindness.
One
of
the
most
underrated
forms
of
professionalism
is
making
it
easy
for
people
to
follow
your
thinking.
Clear
writing
says,
“I
respect
your
time.”
The
unclear
writing
says:
“I’m
going
to
make
you
work
for
it.”
Clarity
isn’t
dumbing
things
down.
It’s
doing
the
hard
work
up
front,
so
the
reader
doesn’t
have
to.
Want
clarity?
Start
with
structure.
Before
you
write
a
single
paragraph,
answer:
-
What
is
the
point? -
What
does
the
reader
need
to
know
first? -
What
do
they
need
to
believe
to
agree
with
me?
Most
legal
writing
improves
dramatically
when
the
writer
outlines
like
a
trial
lawyer:
theme,
roadmap,
proof.
If
you
can’t
say
your
point
in
one
sentence,
you’re
not
ready
to
write
the
brief.
You’re
prepared
to
think.
3.
Overthinking
is
not
preparation.
Many
lawyers
confuse
rumination
with
readiness.
They’ll
“research”
for
hours,
keep
24
cases
open
on
their
screen,
and
then
write
three
bloated
pages
that
never
land.
At
some
point,
you
have
to
stop
circling
the
runway
and
take
off.
Permit
yourself
to
write
an
ugly
first
draft,
fostering
confidence
and
reducing
fear
of
imperfection
in
your
writing
process.
Not
a
“rough”
draft.
An
ugly
one.
Put
the
point
on
paper.
Get
the
facts
down.
State
the
rule.
Make
the
argument.
Don’t
polish
while
you’re
drafting.
Polishing
too
early
kills
momentum.
Drafting
is
for
getting
it
out.
Editing
is
for
making
it
good.
Different
muscles.
Different
phases.
Don’t
blend
them.
4.
The
first
draft
is
where
you
tell
yourself
the
story.
The
rewrite
is
where
you
say
to
the
reader.
If
you’re
not
rewriting,
you’re
not
writing
—
you’re
typing.
And
if
you’re
a
young
lawyer,
rewriting
is
where
you
separate
yourself
from
the
pack.
The
best
writers
are
not
the
ones
who
“get
it
right
the
first
time.”
They’re
the
ones
who
are
willing
to
cut,
tighten,
and
clarify
without
getting
emotionally
attached
to
their
original
phrasing.
A
mindset
shift
that
helps:
feedback
is
data,
not
a
verdict.
If
a
partner
marks
up
your
draft
as
if
it
owes
them
money,
that’s
not
a
sign
you’re
terrible.
It’s
a
sign
you’re
in
the
arena,
learning
in
public.
The
only
people
who
don’t
get
edited
are
the
ones
who
don’t
write.
So
don’t
sulk.
Study
the
edits.
Look
for
patterns.
Are
you:
-
burying
the
lead? - hedging?
- over-qualifying?
-
explaining
what’s
obvious? -
Avoiding
the
key
sentence
because
it
feels
too
direct?
That’s
the
real
lesson.
5.
Earn
the
reader’s
attention
early
by
starting
with
a
clear
point
or
hook
that
makes
them
feel
acknowledged
and
respected
for
their
time.
Legal
writing
has
a
bad
habit:
it
starts
slow.
“COMES
NOW
the
Defendant…”
No.
Stop.
Your
reader
is
not
warmed
up.
They
are
not
impressed.
They
are
not
settling
in
with
a
cup
of
tea,
delighted
to
hear
your
thoughts.
They
are
busy.
Start
with
the
hook.
The
point.
The
why-now.
Try
openers
like:
-
“This
motion
is
about
one
issue:
__.” -
“The
question
is
simple:
__.” -
“Plaintiff’s
theory
fails
for
a
basic
reason:
__.”
You
can
be
professional
without
being
ceremonial.
If
you
want
to
write
persuasively,
you
have
to
take
responsibility
for
the
reader’s
attention
span.
Please
don’t
make
them
hunt
for
the
point,
as
if
it
were
hidden
in
a
scavenger
hunt.
6.
Shorter
is
harder.
Do
the
harder
thing.
Most
lawyers
over-write
because
it’s
safer.
More
words
feel
like
more
protection.
More
caveats
feel
like
fewer
risks.
But
in
persuasion,
extra
words
are
usually
extra
exits
for
the
reader.
Here’s
an
exercise
that
will
change
your
writing
fast:
After
you
finish
a
draft,
try
to
cut
15%
without
losing
meaning.
Then
cut
another
10%.
You’ll
be
shocked
at
how
much
it
improves
when
you
eliminate:
- throat-clearing
-
redundant
phrases -
needless
adverbs -
passive
voice -
“It
is
well
established
that…”
Don’t
just
“edit.”
Cut
with
purpose.
Write
like
every
sentence
costs
money.
7.
Learn
to
love
plain
words.
“Utilize”
is
not
better
than
“use.”
“If”
is
not
better
than
“if.”
“Before”
is
not
better
than
“before.”
Fancy
words
don’t
elevate
legal
writing.
They
weaken
it.
Fancy
language
creates
distance.
Plain
language
creates
trust.
And
when
you’re
writing
for
a
client
—
especially
a
scared,
stressed,
non-lawyer
client
—
plain
language
is
empathy
in
action.
Your
reader
shouldn’t
need
a
decoder
ring
to
understand
what
you’re
saying.
8.
Read
it
out
loud.
Yes,
really.
This
is
the
most
straightforward
hack
I
know,
and
it’s
the
one
most
lawyers
refuse
to
do
because
it
feels
weird.
Read
the
draft
out
loud.
If
you
stumble
over
a
sentence,
your
reader
will
stumble
too.
If
you
run
out
of
breath,
the
sentence
is
too
long.
If
it
sounds
like
something
no
human
would
ever
say,
you’ve
drifted
into
Legalese
Land.
Writing
is
spoken
language
cleaned
up.
If
it
doesn’t
sound
like
a
person,
it
won’t
read
like
a
person.
9.
Improve
your
writing
the
way
you
improve
anything
else:
reps
+
review.
If
you
want
to
become
a
better
writer,
don’t
make
it
mystical.
Make
it
mechanical.
Here’s
a
simple
system
you
can
run
without
changing
your
life:
Three
reps
a
week:
-
Rewrite
something
you
already
wrote
(an
email,
a
case
note,
a
short
motion
section).
Tighten
it.
Clarify
it.
Shorten
it. -
Write
200–300
words
on
one
idea
you
understand
well.
No
citations.
Just
an
explanation.
Pretend
you’re
teaching
a
wise
friend. -
Copyedit
one
great
page
of
writing
you
admire.
Not
to
plagiarize
—
to
study
rhythm
and
structure.
Ask:
How
does
the
writer
move
the
reader?
And
here’s
the
part
most
people
skip:
Review.
Look
at
what
you
did.
What
worked?
What
didn’t?
What
would
you
change
next
time?
That’s
how
you
get
better.
Not
by
hoping.
By
tracking.
Significant
improvement
comes
from
boring
daily
math.
10.
Develop
a
voice
by
telling
the
truth
—
professionally.
A
lot
of
lawyers
want
“voice,”
but
they’re
afraid
of
being
human
on
the
page.
Voice
doesn’t
mean
being
dramatic.
It
means
being
real.
It
means
writing
with:
- candor;
- specificity;
- conviction;
-
and
a
little
bit
of
you.
If
you’re
writing
an
email
to
opposing
counsel,
your
“voice”
might
be
calm,
direct,
and
firm.
If
you’re
writing
to
a
client,
it
might
be
clear,
steady,
and
reassuring.
If
you’re
writing
a
brief,
it
might
be
confident,
organized,
and
restrained.
Voice
is
not
personality
for
its
own
sake.
It’s
the
tone
that
earns
trust
in
the
context
you’re
in.
And
if
you
want
to
build
that
voice
faster,
write
publicly
sometimes.
A
short
LinkedIn
post.
A
bar
newsletter.
A
practice-group
note.
Not
to
“build
a
brand,”
but
to
get
reps
at
explaining
ideas
clearly.
You
don’t
get
better
by
waiting
for
confidence.
You
get
better
by
writing
anyway.
A
closing
thought
If
you’re
a
young
lawyer
and
you
feel
behind,
you’re
not.
Most
lawyers
never
intentionally
improve
their
writing.
They
keep
producing
pages
and
hoping
the
pages
get
better
by
osmosis.
They
don’t.
But
if
you
decide
—
today
—
that
you’ll
do
reps
and
rewrites,
you’ll
separate
yourself
quickly.
Within
a
year,
people
will
start
saying,
“Have
them
draft
it.”
And
that’s
when
doors
open.
Writing
is
leverage
in
this
profession.
It’s
how
you
persuade.
It’s
how
you
lead.
It’s
how
you
earn
trust
when
you’re
not
in
the
room.
So
don’t
wait
for
a
perfect
schedule
or
perfect
inspiration.
Write.
Rewrite.
Cut.
Clarify.
And
keep
going
—
especially
when
it’s
ugly.
That’s
the
part
that
counts.
Frank
Ramos
is
a
partner
at
Goldberg
Segalla
in
Miami,
where
he
practices
commercial
litigation,
products,
and
catastrophic
personal
injury. You
can
follow
him
on LinkedIn,
where
he
has
about
80,000
followers.