Karin Ciano, The Daily Record Newswire
Ah, the new year … season of best-of lists, resolutions and transitions. Speaking of transitions, let’s talk for a minute about the ones between sentences.
We can all agree that each sentence in a paragraph should express one complete thought and that those thoughts should form a coherent series making a larger point. As writers, we approach a subject from (we hope) the perspective of deep knowledge — a familiarity that lets us transition from thought to thought without much … well, thought. It’s like traveling a familiar path at night: We know the direction we’re going, how far, and where we need to watch our step. The journey seems smoother because we’re in control.
To the reader, who is not in control, the journey is unfamiliar. What to us seems like an obvious progression of ideas, to a reader may seem like one random fact after another. If the new information isn’t well introduced, if the writer provides no context revealing its significance, then the reader faces an uncomfortable choice: spend mental energy remembering it now, or let it go and risk having to spend more later to learn it again. Either way, they’re going to be a little less inclined to read further. But when the context is announced and the reader understands why new information is being introduced, transitions between sentences can be seamless.
Want to see transitions done right? At the risk of dropping a block quote into an otherwise tasteful publication, here’s a nice example by Justice Elena Kagan (minus citations) in the case of U.S. Airways, Inc. v. McCutchen:
Respondent James McCutchen participated in a health benefits plan that his employer, petitioner U.S. Airways, established under the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (ERISA). That plan obliged U.S. Airways to pay any medical expenses McCutchen incurred as a result of a third party’s actions — for example, another person’s negligent driving. The plan in turn entitled U.S. Airways to reimbursement if McCutchen later recovered money from the third party. This Court has held that a health-plan administrator like U.S. Airways may enforce such a reimbursement provision by filing suit under § 502(a)(3) of ERISA. That section authorizes a civil action “to obtain ... appropriate equitable relief ... to enforce ... the terms of the plan.”
Mmmm… ERISA. Your favorite federal statute? Mine too. But seriously (and with utmost respect and admiration for ERISA practitioners everywhere) — opinions interpreting that statute can occasionally be dry and hard to follow. Now I’m going to place two bets: first, that you have never had occasion to interpret ERISA’s third-party-reimbursement provision. Second, that you were nonetheless able to follow what Justice Kagan had to say about it.
Why? Because every time Justice Kagan introduces something new, she prefaces it with something you already know. Picture her drawing you over to a group at a cocktail party, then introducing the four main players:
“Respondent James McCutchen participated in a health benefits plan that his employer, petitioner U.S. Airways, established under the Employee Retirement Income Security Act of 1974 (ERISA).”
Employer, employee, plan, statute — pleased to meet you, greetings all around. Justice Kagan then shares a little about the plan, first connecting it to employer and employee (whom we’ve already met), and then to a familiar friend (presumably not the group’s designated driver) Third Party:
“That plan obliged U.S. Airways to pay any medical expenses McCutchen incurred as a result of a third party’s actions — for example, another person’s negligent driving. The plan in turn entitled U.S. Airways to reimbursement if McCutchen later recovered money from the third party.”
Third Party, it’s been ages, how the heck are you. But enough about you, I want to hear from Justice Kagan. Madam Justice, how do you know these guys?
“This Court has held that a health-plan administrator like U.S. Airways may enforce such a reimbursement provision by filing suit under § 502(a)(3) of ERISA.”
Really? ERISA, I didn’t even know you had a section 502(a)(whatever). Fascinating. Tell me more.
“That section authorizes a civil action ‘to obtain ... appropriate equitable relief ... to enforce ... the terms of the plan.’”
No kidding. I bet that gets interesting, am I right? (Spoiler alert: the opinion, should you care to retrieve it, will discuss the civil action at greater length.) Say, guys, I’m going to go refresh my drink. …
Yes, folks, you just read a paragraph about ERISA and understood it. If transitions can do this, imagine what they can do for that memo that’s been waiting for your edits.
Because good transitions aren’t written, they’re revised. Get the words on paper first, even if that means leading off a sentence with the new idea being introduced — that is, after all, why we’re writing the sentence in the first place. Then at some point, when you and the text have both had a little rest, go back in and measure the distances between each new chunk of information. If it can’t be covered blindfolded, smooth it out.
How to do this? (Writing experts are fond of saying things can’t be reduced to a simple formula. Not being an expert, I’m going to take the liberty of proposing one. Two, actually.)
First simple formula: The subject of sentence 2 must be either the subject or object of sentence 1.
So if sentence 1 tells us McCutchen participated in a benefits plan, blah blah blah, the subject of the next sentence must be either McCutchen or the plan. And in fact, that’s exactly how the first two sentences play out. (Quick review for the busy: Recall that the subject is the word that’s acting, the verb is the action, and the object is what’s being acted upon.)
Second simple formula: Repeat a word or concept that’s within five words of the end of the sentence.
The second formula appears in the final two sentences of the clip: The end of sentence 1 refers to a section of ERISA, and sentence 2 begins, “That section … .” Thus linked, the two sentences guide us effortlessly from a prior decision interpreting ERISA to a discussion of its text.
Moral? You’re Fred Astaire and your reader is Ginger Rogers. Your reader can dance, if you can lead.
May your new year and your transitions be smooth.
