The use of active voice might be the least understood element in English that most people think they understand. They understand even less when they get the use of active voice confused with the use of action verbs. And many do. Many editors can’t keep them straight.

Fact is, they aren’t even related. They just sound as if they are. A sentence written in active voice can include a “being” verb.

Assam is an Indian state.

And a sentence written in passive voice can include an action verb.

Nicholas O’Herlihy was named after his maternal grandfather, a Russian.

Active voice and action verbs do have one thing in common. They contribute to strong, honest, direct writing.

If the subject of a sentence creates the action, the sentence is in active voice. Active voice is the exact opposite of the sentence-wrecker known as passive voice. Here’s an example of passive voice:

The truck was struck by the train.

The truck is the subject of the sentence. The train is the receiver of the action. That means the sentence is in passive voice. Here’s the same sentence in active voice:

The train struck the truck.

Now the subject has switched roles. No longer is it receiving the action. The train has become the subject, and it is creating the action. That’s active voice.

By switching to active voice we have eliminated a verb, was, and a preposition, by. Together they had made the sentence longer, 40 percent longer. This is not an unusual result of passive voice, and it is one reason good writers avoid passive voice when they can. But at least two other reasons exist for using active voice.

Take a convoluted sentence that seems to start off in several directions and ends up going nowhere. Now, take a close look at it. Chances are, the writer began writing the sentence in passive voice. Few other forms of sloppy writing produce such muddiness.

Another reason to use active voice is that it is more honest. It takes responsibility. Passive voice provides a way to avoid responsibility. At least three recent U.S. presidents—Ronald Reagan, and Bill Clinton and George W. Bush—have used the identical phrase in passive voice in an attempt to deflect criticism and embarrassment and to avoid responsibility:

Mistakes were made.

To the reader, that that means is, “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t do it. Some [unnamed] official in my administration did it.”

In When Words Collide, Lauren Kessler and Duncan McDonald offer two situations in which passive voice must be used. First, passive voice is justified if the receiver of the action is more important than the creator of the action. They use this example:

A priceless Rembrandt painting was stolen from the Metropolitan Museum of Art yesterday by three men posing as janitors.

Here, the Rembrandt should remain the subject of the sentence even though it receives the action. The painting obviously is more important—more newsworthy—than the three men who stole it.

The second reason for using passive voice is if the writer has no choice. That’s when the writer does not know who or what the actor, the creator of the action, is. The example Kessler and McDonald use:

The cargo was damaged during the trans-Atlantic flight.

Air turbulence? Sabotage? Was the cargo strapped in properly? The writer doesn’t know, so the voice must be passive.

Active voice is direct, active voice is honest, active voice is economical. But mostly, active voice is considerate of readers, of their limited amount of time and of their need for clear, crisp, concise information. Passive voice is one reason many people swear off how-to books on computing, carpentry or cooking.

First, a pair of chopsticks is placed on top of a pot of water. Then, the asparagus is put inside a wicker basket and the basket is placed on top of the chopsticks. The water is brought to a boil, and the asparagus is steamed for no more than 10 minutes, so a slight crunchiness is retained.

It seems to take so long to get it out. But when you turn these instructions into commands, using active voice, they become much more crisp and clear. The writer addresses the reader directly, with “you” implied.

Place a pair of chopsticks on top of a pot of water. Put the asparagus inside a wicker basket and place the basket on top of the chopsticks. Bring the water to a boil and steam the asparagus for no more than 10 minutes, so it retains a slight crunchiness.

Next: Action Verbs and Imagery

This blog post is excerpted from Knight’s soon-to-be-published Journalistic Writing: Building the Skill; Honing the Craft

A long time ago, mainstream writing and journalistic writing said goodbye to each other, and English has been poorer ever since. Each has much to learn from the other, but I maintain that mainstream writers can learn more from journalistic writing than the other way around. I am after all a journalist who came late to the academic world and continues to try to straddle the gap.

Many English teachers seem to believe writing skills can be learned by osmosis, with no reference to how the language actually works. They refuse to address the mechanics of the language.

Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps I only think journalists are the only ones who fail to see the king’s new clothes. Maybe we truly are the grubs among butterflies. But we journalists wonder if the gap between the literary and journalistic approaches to “good” writing isn’t getting wider. I for one am trying my best to prevent the spread.

Journalistic training provides bedrock skills for any kind of writing, from novels to poetry to ad copy to office memos to computer manuals. It’s worth noting that of the seven American Nobel laureates, four brought a journalistic background to their writing. (I’m not counting Isaac Bashevis Singer, who immigrated to the United States after plying Yiddish journalism in Poland, nor T.S. Eliot, who moved from the United States to England without pursuing anything journalistic that I know of.)

College composition courses tend to be taught in the spirit of “write what you feel.” Gratifying experiences; good for the ego. But that attitude isn’t quite enough.

Journalistic writing emphasizes skill.

Skill. Such a quaint term to many who teach English, who would have their students learn by analyzing, and often emulating, what successful writers wrote. Such an approach does have some value, but its effect is limited if it disregards the structure and flow of the language.

When we journalists use “skill” in the same sentence as “writing,” we’re letting ourselves in for ridicule from those who equate journalistic writing with Fun with Dick and Jane. Granted, much journalistic writing is abysmal. But when it’s good it sings.

All right, what are these skills? Well, one skill common to both types of good writing is the use of active voice. If students learned nothing else in a composition or journalism class, their prose would be 50 percent better.

Other skills do find their way into both forms of writing, among them:

• the use of action verbs,
• being specific; illuminating with color and doing so by describing in detail.
• using strong nouns and verbs at the expense of adjectives and adverbs,
• avoiding clichés,
• moving the story (or essay or narrative or poem) along. (If the fact. concept or idea just lies there, it only adds weight, so surgically remove it.)
• using word economy; avoiding unneeded words, phrases, clauses and sentences, and
• the use of word precision, finding the word that says precisely what the writer wants to say, with the exact nuance the writer intends.

It sounds simple and easy, I know. It is simple, but it isn’t simplistic. And it doesn’t get easy until it’s practiced and practiced and practiced, preferably on deadline. The catch: If it ever does feel easy, all that means is that your skills have grown to become merely the components of the glib.

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Robert M. Knight is author of Journalistic Writing: Building the Skills, Honing the Craft, to be released this spring by Marion Street Press. As a freelancer, Knight has written for more than 40 publications and news services. He began his career at United Press International and is a former senior editor and broadcast editor of the City News Bureau of Chicago and a former adjunct professor at Gettysburg College in Pennsylvania and Northwestern University in Chicago and Evanston, Illinois.