We are a society strangling in unnecessary words, circular constructions, pompous frills and meaningless jargon.

Wordiness is a sickness of American writing. Too many words dilute and blur ideas.

I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.

Many suffer from the incurable disease of writing, and it becomes chronic in their sick minds.

How can the rest of us achieve such enviable freedom from clutter? The answer is to clear our heads of clutter. Clear thinking becomes clear writing; one can't exist without the other. It's impossible for a muddy thinker to write good English. He may get away with it for a paragraph or two, but soon the reader will be lost, and there's no sin so grave, for the reader will not easily be lured back.

Clutter is death; it leads to thrashing. Keep desk clear: focus on one thing at a time.

One ruins the mind with too much writing. — One rusts it by not writing at all.

The disorder of the desk, the floor; the yellow Post-it notes everywhere; the whiteboards covered with scrawl: all this is the outward manifestation of the messiness of human thought. The messiness cannot go into the program; it piles up around the programmer.

If writers wrote as carelessly as some people talk, then adhasdh asdglaseuyt[bn[ pasdlgkhasdfasdf.

Sloppy writing reflects sloppy thinking.

A lot of modern writing feels like you're getting hammered over the head with words. Maybe that's the point to get you into submission to buy something or blindly follow. It's a big reason I've been reading more fiction and poetry. Even if some of the fiction writing can be too flowery, at least they care about a sentence.

One instance I see of this is the repetitive short chunk after a statement.

You want to be like a river. Flowing. Bubbling. Effervescent. Heading downstream.

It's like a staccato chaos. Maybe good for rap music but it breaks the brain down. Just write a better sentence of what you are trying to say.

You see the inverse too.

You need to be pathless. Not climbing. Not grinding. Not achieving. Just pathless. (what is the point of a sentence like this?)

The very impulse to write springs from an inner chaos crying for order - for meaning.

"The great and present danger to American literature is the growing homogeneity of our writers, especially the younger generation. Often raised in several places in no specific cultural or religious community, educated with no deep connection to a region, history, or tradition, and now employed mostly in academia, the American writer is becoming as standardized as the American car--functional, streamlined, and increasingly interchangeable" (27).

Look for the clutter in your writing and prune it ruthlessly. Be grateful for everything you can throw away. Reexamine each sentence you put on paper. Is every word doing new work? Can any thought be expressed with more economy?