Two important influences go out from an office. One is that of the
representatives who make outside personal contacts. The other is the
stream of correspondence that issues forth into the outside world. The
second is no less important than the first.
As good correspondence is an art, so a good correspondent is an artist.
He is not easy to find. It is as surprising as it is regrettable how few
people have taken the trouble really to master the use of the English
language. One can more easily find a master of mechanics than a master
of words any time. Yet each person owes it not only to his language but
to himself to know how to use his native tongue correctly and effectively.
In all writing, and especially in writing letters upon which great
interests turn, two things are important. One is to say the right thing.
The other is not to say the wrong one.
The president of a great bank once said to me: “I write my own
advertisements and dictate my own letters, not necessarily because I know
better than anyone else what to say, but rather because I probably do
know better than anyone else what not to say.”
The other day I saw a series of collection letters supposed to have been
prepared by an expert. They were verbose and flowery. They were supposed
to be seasonal—something about which both collector and collectee care
exactly nothing. They had a jollying and blarneying tone which is always
nauseating. The clear, courteous, definite letter is the one that wins.
I once saw an irate letter that came to the director of a money-raising
project for a philanthropic interest. It told him plainly that the writer
objected to the whole scheme, and would consider it an insult to be asked
for a subscription. A secretary answered the letter patiently,
courteously, and explainingly, but without asking for a subscription.
Return mail brought a letter from the erstwhile objector enclosing a
subscription for fifty dollars. The right kind of correspondence will
contribute largely toward the success of any business.