Writing is a fickle little craft. It’s full of subtle nuances. It’s abreast with rules, restrictions, corrections, do’s and don’t’s. And as a wildly perfectionistic lil’ woman, this can prove immensely frustrating. And as a professional writer? Even more so.

However, the most effective writing ‘rule’ I’ve ever learned is quite a simple one, in theory: Write in the active voice and not the passive voice.

Alright, let me back up. To anyone who isn’t currently enrolled in a college grammar course (or teaching English to snot-nosed 5th graders), the concept may seem slightly foreign, so here’s the quick n’ dirty explanation: With active voice, the subject does the thing. With passive voice, the subject has the thing done to it.

Example time!
Active voice = Erica loves to type on her MacBook
Passive voice = Typing on her MacBook is Erica’s love.
See the diff? Moving on…

Looks easy, right? Eh, not always. Grasping the subtle and occasionally near-unrecognizable difference between the passive and active voice is challenging. Passive voice – dirty lil’ devil – can slip its slimy, seductive, super-quiet self by us without so much as a squeak.

Sometimes we’ll almost catch it. We’ll read over our writing and notice something sounds a teensy bit funny, but won’t be able to put our (hopefully, well-manicured) finger on it. But it’s there, and it’s sucking the fun out of our writing, one extraneous, apathetic word at a time.

But the marvelous (and complex) thing about the active v. passive voice? Once we’ve got the 411 on how it’s ruining our writing, we can teach ourselves to become conscious of when we’re using it, and we can – million-dollar word comin’ atcha – CHANGE.

(Trust me, once you’ve got passive and active on the brain, you won’t be able to not notice when you’re whipping it out. I’ve had to go back and re-work this blog about ten times now. No. Seriously.)

OK, so you get the passive v. active thing, right? Great. Now, this is where it gets really juicy:

Passivity v. activity is about so much more than just the way you use words

(You so knew this was coming, didn’t you? Am I really that predictable? I am? Oh, God.)

Activity and passivity show up all. the. freakin’. time. in our daily agendas. During any average sun-up to sun-down, we’re faced with a zillion opportunities to choose the passive route, or the active one. Passivity or activity is a lifestyle. It’s about the way you think and the way you do (or don’t) behave. It’s the way you say what up to your co-workers, the self-dignity with which you tell (or don’t tell) that douchebag guy to bug off and the awkward conversations you do or don’t initiate with your BFFs. (P.S. I recently read the quality of your life can be measured in how often you’re willing to have those icky conversations. Makes sense, no?)

If you’re bold, voracious and comfortably confident without so much as a paprika-flake-sized hint of abrasiveness, you’re the active voice in action. (See what I did there?) But if you’re more about taking the safe n’ stable route, and tend to be a people-pleaser who waters their personality down to that of a potted plant so as not to cause waves, well, you guessed it. You’re passive voice personified, babe.

While I truly hope you’re the former (I’ve heard potted plants make rather dull conversation), often times, we’re an intricate, delicate mix of the two. And while nobody said there’s anything wrong with the passive voice or passivity, per se, it’s just not as punchy, entertaining or to-the-point – in copy, or in life – as it’s super efficacious sister. (And it probably doesn’t have the hot career, smokin’ boyfriend and gobs of gorgeous friends who buy her fabulous birthday prezzies. Just sayin’.)

Now, before you passive peeps get down on yourselves please, know this: For many moons, I, too, was a silent (as many of us passive types are) advocate for the passive voice, without even knowing it. I was scared stupid to ruffle feathers (or skirts, or bad hair, or whatever). I never wanted anyone to be mad at me (oh, the horror!) I didn’t understand that while passivity and quietness and general politeness to the point of fault are totes ingrained in my personality, I can choose to keep them at bay when those qualities don’t serve me. Like when, you know, some loser keeps calling me at 3 a.m. for a booty call after one too many shots of Jack. (Has happened. Doesn’t anymore. BOOM. Active. Take that!)

But fear not, soul sisters! Just like in our writing, the greatest thing about the option to be either passive or active in our lives is that we choose which one we’d like to be.

It might not feel like it, but when we’re being passive, it’s our decision to tip-toe around issues (um, so been there!), not directly ask for what we want and worry heaps about the consequences of our actions. In copy, this means we’re choosing (probably unconsciously) to mix-up our sentences in such an awkward way that we confuse the heck out of our readers. Why would we ever choose such a thing, you ask? Well, because it’s easier. Being direct means we risk rejection. It means we might pour our heart n’ soul into a project + get nothing back but some sad cricket chirps.

On the flip side, we can choose to revel in the awesomeness of active voice. In life, that’s when we do what terrifies us (even when it does, indeed, scare the effing ish out of us) as well as ask for the stuff we really, truly, deeply desire and do it loudly, proudly and without so much as one iota of anxiety. In copy, it means we cut the crap. Cut to the chase. Drop the extra words. Say exactly what we mean. Use a strong, precise verb. Eliminate ‘by’ phrases. (As in, change sentences like ‘The paper was written by the student’ to ‘The student wrote the paper.’) Case-in-point: “I made a fabulous life” flows so much better than “A fabulous life was made by me,” amiright?

So, today, I’m asking you to take a look at activity and passivity in both your writing, and your life. Are you ready to take the active v. passive challenge?

Is that a massive, resounding “yes” I hear? Thought so.

If your copy is passive, it…
- bleeds with needless words (+ your life is full of activities that don’t serve you)
- lacks a clear verb + vision (+ your life lacks concrete goals)
- reeks of awkwardness (+ your life is all drama + excuses)

However, if it’s activity you’re into, your copy…
- scintillates with clarity + turns readers on with powerful action words (+ you know who you are, what you do + both how/why you do it in life)
- beams with brevity + doesn’t bore readers to death (+ in life, you get ish done. simple.)
- shines with succinctness (+ well, that part just sounds nice, doesn’t it?)

Now that you’ve taken stock, be honest: Are you happy with the way your copy flows? Or does everything that pours from your pretty lil’ fingertips still sound and feel a little ‘off’?

And, perhaps more importantly: Are you equally enamored with your life? Does it feel and sound and look like the deepest, truest you?

Don’t play. You know which kind of copy – and life – you want. And while you don’t have to erase the passive voice completely (there are times that it’s OK and even encouraged, like when your 90-year-old grandma asks whether you loved her stone-cold, so-springy-it-could-make-a-slam-dunk meatloaf), I believe it’s always worth the extra effort to look over your copy and delete all the ‘unncessaries’ from your writing.

So, here’s your homework: Get clear on your message, beef up on WHY you do what you do + make it easy for others to understand you. Be direct. And please oh please, read this post over at Grammar Girl for the grammatical specifics.

And then – just maybe – you can start doing the same with your life. (It’ll feel easier then. Promise.)

Or, perhaps more precisely: A word nerdette. A self love sorceress. A mental health awareness aficionado. A relationship re-wirer. An aspiring iconic fashion plate. And sometimes, a little over the top. Clearly.