Writing Business Letters

CHAPTER 9

Making The Letter Hang Together

The letter writer looks to words, phrases and sentences to make the little impressions on the reader as he goes along. The letter as a whole also has to make a SINGLE IMPRESSION -- clear-cut and unmistakable. The correspondent must use this combination shot-gun and rifle. To get this single rifle-shot effect a letter has to contain those elements of style that HOLD IT TOGETHER; there must be a definite idea behind the letter; the message must have a unity of thought; it must be logically presented; it must have a continuity that carries the reader along without a break, and a climax that works him up and closes at the height of his enthusiasm.

Thinking is not easy for anyone. And it is too much to expect the average business man to analyze a proposition in which he is not interested. His thoughts tend to move in the course of least resistance. If you want him to buy your goods or pay your bill or hire you, present your arguments in a way that will require no great mental exertion on his part to follow you.

A single idea behind the letter is the first requisite for giving it the hang-together quality and the punch that gets results. The idea cannot be conveyed to the reader unless it is presented logically. He won't get a single general impression from what you are saying to him unless there is unity of thought in the composition. He cannot follow the argument unless it has continuity; sequence of thought. And, finally no logic or style will work him up to enthusiasm unless it ends with a strong climax.

These five principles--the idea behind, logic, unity of thought, continuity, climax--are the forces that holds the letter together and that gives it momentum. Because these principles are laid down in text books does not mean that they are arbitrary rules or academic theories. They are based on the actual experiences of men ever since they began to talk and write. Essay or sermon; oration or treatise; advertisement or letter; all forms of communication most easily accomplish their purpose of bringing the other man around to your way of thinking, if these proved principles of writing are followed. Merely observing them will not necessarily make a letter pull, but violating them is certain to weaken it.

You cannot hit a target with a rifle unless you have one shot in the barrel. The idea behind the letter is the bullet in the gun. To hit your prospect you must have a message--a single, definite, clearly-put message. That is the idea behind the letter.

Look at the letter on page 61. It gets nowhere. Because the writer did not have this clear, definite idea of what he wanted to impress upon his prospect. Not one reader in ten would have the shallowest dent made in his attention by this letter, as he would have had if the writer had started out, for instance, with one idea of impressing upon the reader the facilities of his establishment and the large number of satisfied customers for whom it does work.

With this dominant idea in mind, a correspondent has got to explain it and argue it so logically that the reader is convinced. Here is a letter from a manufacturer of gasoline engines:

Dear Sir:

I understand you are in the market for a gasoline engine and as ours is the most reliable engine made we want to call your attention to it. It has every modern improvement and we sell it on easy terms.

The inventor of this machine is in personal charge of our factory and he is constantly making little improvements. He will tell you just what kind of an engine you need and we will be glad to quote you prices if you will call on us or write us, telling us what you need.

Hoping to hear from you, we are,

Yours truly,

THE MADEWELL ENGINE CO.

The letter is illogical, disjointed and lacking in that dominant idea that carries conviction. Yet the writer had material at hand for a strong, logical selling letter. To have interested the prospect he should have told something specific about his engine. Here is the letter, rewritten with due regard to the demands of unity, sequence, logic and climax:

Dear Sir:

A friend told me yesterday that you want a gas engine for irrigating, so I am sending you bulletin "B."

Do you notice that all its parts are in plain view and easy to get at? Mr. Wilbur, who invented this engine, had a good many years of practical experience installing gasoline engines before he started to manufacture his own, and he knows what it means to tighten up a nut or some other part without having to send to the factory for a special man with a special wrench to do the work.

Sparkers sometimes get gummed up. To take the Wilbur sparker out you simply remove two nuts and out comes the sparker complete, and you cannot get it back the wrong way. It isn't much of a job to wipe the point off with a rag, is it?

And the governor! Just the same type of throttling governor that is used on the highest grade of steam engine, allowing you to speed her up or slow her down while the engine is running. That's mighty handy. Few engines are built like this. It costs a good deal of extra money but it does give a lot of extra satisfaction.

Nothing shoddy about the equipment described in the bulletin, is there? No. We don't make these supplies ourselves, but we do watch out and see that the other fellow gives us the best in the market because WE GUARANTEE IT.

This sounds very nice on paper, you think. Well, we have over four thousand customers in Kansas. Mr. W. O. Clifford, who lives not so far from you, has used a Wilbur for three years. Ask him what he has to say about it.

Then you will want to know just what such an engine will cost you, and you will be tickled to death when you know how much money we can really save you. I don't mean that we will furnish you with a cheap machine at a high price, but a really high-grade machine at a low price.

I await with much interest your reply telling us what you want.

Very truly yours,

L. W. Hamilton

The commonest cause of a lack of punch in a letter is the temptation to get away from the main idea--unity of thought. This is what a mail-order house writes:

"This is the largest catalogue of the kind ever issued, it will pay you to deal with our house. Every machine is put together by hand and tested, and we will ship the day your order is received.

"An examination of the catalogue will prove our claim that we carry the largest stock of goods in our line. Should our goods appeal to you, we shall be glad to add you to our list of customers."

There is neither unity nor logic in a letter like this, although there is the suggestion of several good ideas. The fact that the house issues the largest catalogue of its kind might be so explained to me that it would convince me that here is the place I ought to buy. Or, the fact that every machine is tested and put together by hand, if followed to a logical conclusion, would prove to me that I could rely on the quality of these goods. But when the writer doesn't stick to one subject for more than half a sentence, my attention will not cling to it and my mind is not convinced by a mere statement without proof.

Unity does not necessarily mean that the whole letter must be devoted to one point. A paragraph and even a sentence must have this quality of unity as much as the entire letter. And the paragraphs, each unified in itself, may bring out one point after another that will still allow the letter to retain its hang-together.

In the letter quoted, not even the individual sentence retained unity. This writer might have presented all his points and maintained the unity of his letter, had he brought out and simplified one point in each paragraph:

First: The size of the catalogue as an indication of the large stock carried by the house and the convenience afforded in buying.

Second: The quality of the machines; the care exercised in their assembling; the guarantee of the test, and the assurance that this gives the far-away purchaser.

Third: Promptness in filling orders; what this means to the buyer and how the house is organized to give service.

Fourth: The desire to enroll new customers; not based solely on the selfish desires of the house, but on the idea that the more customers they can get, the bigger the business will grow, which will result in better facilities for the house and better service for each customer.

And now, giving a unified paragraph to each of the ideas, not eliminating subordinate thoughts entirely, but keeping them subordinate and making them illuminate the central thought--would build up a unified, logical letter.

In the arrangement of these successive ideas and paragraphs, the third element in the form is illustrated--continuity of thought. Put a jog or a jar in the path of your letter and you take the chance of breaking the reader's attention. That is fatal. So write a letter that the reader will easily and, therefore, unconsciously and almost perforce, follow from the first word to the last--then your message reaches him.

How to secure this continuity depends on the subject and on the prospect. Appealing to the average man, association of thoughts furnishes the surest medium for continuity. If you lead a man from one point to another point that he has been accustomed to associating with the first point, then he will follow you without a break in his thought. From this follows the well-known principle that when you are presenting a new proposition, start your prospect's thoughts on a point that he knows, which is related to your proposition, for the transition is easiest from a known to a related unknown.

An insurance company's letter furnishes a good example of continuity of ideas and the gradual increasing strength in each paragraph:

"If you have had no sickness, and consequently, have never felt the humiliation of calling on strangers for sick benefits--even though it were only a temporary embarrassment--you are a fortunate man.

"Health is always an uncertain quantity--you have no assurance that next week or next month you will not be flat on your back--down and out as far as selling goods is concerned. And sickness not only means a loss of time but an extra expense in the way of hospital and doctor bills."

In the next paragraph the idea is further strengthened; a new thought is presented with additional force:

"If there is one man on earth who needs protection by insurance against sickness it is you. There are two thousand one hundred and fifty ailments covering just such diseases as you, as a traveling man, expose yourself to every day."

These are specific facts, therefore decidedly forceful. Then, while interest is at its height, another paragraph presents a specific offer:

"We will protect you at an extremely low annual cost. We guarantee that the rate will not exceed $9.00 a year--that's less than two and a half cents a day. Think of it--by paying an amount so small that you will never miss it, you will secure benefits on over two thousand sicknesses--any one of which you may contract tomorrow."

Here is the logical presentation of subject matter by paragraphs, leading up from an interest-getting general statement to a specific proposition. Break this continuity of ideas by a space filler or an inconsequential argument and the reader loses interest that it will be hard to regain.

Make this the test of each paragraph: if it does not illuminate the central thought, fit into the argument at that point, or add to the interest of the reader, eliminate it or bring it into conformity with the "idea behind the letter."

And there must be an actual continuity of thought from paragraph to paragraph. Merely inserting a catch-word or a conjunctive does not build a logical bridge.

The letter from another insurance agent might have been saved if this test had been applied, for it was well written except where the writer forgot himself long enough to insert an irrelevant paragraph about his personal interest:

"We are desirous of adding your name to our roll of membership because we believe that every man should be protected by insurance and because we believe this is the best policy offered. We are endeavoring to set a new record this month and are especially anxious to get your application right away."

The continuity of thought is broken. The preceding paragraphs have been working up the reader's interest in casualty insurance by pointing out the dangers to which he is exposed, the humiliating position in which it will place him and his family to be the recipients of charity in case of sickness or accident, and so on. Then the writer short-circuits the reader's interest by a paragraph of generalities which call attention to his desire for profits-- things in which the prospect is not interested.

Most propositions can be developed in different ways, along different angles. The problem of the correspondent is to determine upon the way that will prove easiest for the reader to follow. He may have his path smoothed for him if he understands how facts, ideas and arguments will cohere in the reader's mind. It is much easier to follow a proposition if it is developed along some definite channel; if it follows the law of continuity, the law of similarity; of association or contrast, or of cause and effect.

Some epigrammatic thinker once said, "When you get through, stop!" This applies to letter writing as well as to speech. But don't stop a letter on the down grade. Stop after you have given your hardest punch. This is what rhetoricians call the climax.

A letter constructed along these principles of style will almost inevitably have a climax. If there is an idea behind the letter, if it is carried out logically, if the letter sticks to this one idea, if the argument is carried along step by step, proceeding from the general statement to the specific, from the attention-getting first sentence to the inducement, then you are working up your reader's interest to the point where with one final application of your entire idea to his own individual case, you have accomplished your climax, just as was done in the re-written letter about gasoline engines.

A letter from a firm manufacturing a duplicating machine starts out by calling attention to the difficulty the personal salesmen has in getting an audience with the busy executive. The second paragraph shows how his time and "your money" is wasted in call-backs and in bench warming while the solicitor waits for an opportunity to be heard. The third paragraph tells how over-anxious the salesman is to close a sale when a few minutes is granted--and usually fails, at least the first time. The fourth paragraph shows how this costly process of selling can be reduced by using the mails; then follow a couple of specific paragraphs telling about the advantage of the company's machine. A paragraph on the saving on five thousand circulars that would pay for the machine brings the proposition home to the reader and then, with interest at the height, the last paragraph--the climax--urges the reader to fill out a post card to secure the additional information regarding capacity, quality of work and cost. Logic, unity, sequence, climax--each does its part in carrying the load.

The principles of style and form in letter writing do not reach their highest pulling power as long as the correspondent handles them like strange tools. The principles must, of course, first be learned and consciously applied. But to give your letter the touch of sincerity and of spontaneity; to give it the grip that holds and the hook that pulls, these principles must become a part of yourself. They must appear in your letters, not because you have consciously put them in but because your thinking and your writing possesses them.