Happy 2022! In the spirit of goal setting and all such standard new year activities, I’d like to propose a writing-related resolution: Make this the year you banish the use of the word “impactful” from your writing. I know I’m in the minority on this particular crusade—“impactful” is in the various dictionaries, giving the veneer of legitimacy to a word that, according to the Urban Dictionary, was conjured by marketing drones (an assessment with which, despite having been at one point a marketing drone myself, I wholeheartedly agree). But the reasons for my deep dislike are simple and, I believe, incontrovertible: The word is made up, it’s lazy, and it doesn’t really say anything.
Exhibit A proving the word doesn’t exist: “Impactful” doesn’t appear in my trusty Webster’s New Collegiate Dictionary 150th Anniversary Edition, copyright 1981. Case closed. Yes, language evolves—and it should. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t have Shakespeare’s original formulations without which the English language wouldn’t be quite as lyrical—I’m not such a critic of evolution as to decry the existence of all fashionable language—but language should evolve to fill gaps otherwise left empty, not to muddy the otherwise clear waters. If satisfactory words to describe a situation exist, writers should use those words. After all, if they were good enough for generations of lauded authors, they should be good enough for you and me (unless you’re the next Lewis Carroll, in which case, go nuts).
Which brings me to my second contention: Using words like “impactful” is lazy. It’s hard work to write clearly and concisely in readily understood language. The English language is beautifully complex and nuanced—which is a blessing and a curse: a blessing in that it allows us to convey as much everyday subtlety as our vocabulary will allow, and a curse in that it requires deep knowledge (or a willingness to spend the time learning) to capitalize on its complexity. So, when faced with rewriting a sentence, the overworked, under-resourced (another made-up-word candidate), and, yes, lazy writer will draft such statements as, “Adopting these habits will allow you to be your most impactful in 2022,” without batting an eye. (For the record, I dreamed this sentence up purely as illustration—but its siblings are found across the Internet.)
But here’s the heart of the matter: Impactful doesn’t mean anything. My 1981 Webster’s says impact is from the Latin impactus, the past participle of impingere, meaning “to push against.” The intransitive verb impact is defined as “to have an impact” or “to impinge or make contact especially forcefully.” Clearly, the word has evolved over time to mean more. Talented football players have an impact on the game—and today’s readers understand how such players are thereby being described. Or do we? “Impact” can have either positive or negative connotations. Non-talented players can equally have an impact (ask any long-suffering fan of any perennially challenged team). So can bench-warmers and injured players not even playing in the game.
In this sentence, then, what is meant by “impactful”?
Adopting these habits will allow you to be your most impactful in 2022.
Will I be a force for good or ill in 2022 if I adopt these habits? Yes, context provides clues to what the writer likely means—but that doesn’t mean the writer couldn’t have made a better choice. For example, “Adopting these habits will help you work efficiently and increase your output measurably in 2022,” says a lot more about the benefits of following the writer’s pointers and is therefore clearer.
How-tos and advice columns are bound to be littered this month with impactful—one of the worst non-words granted space in modern dictionaries (next to possibly “irregardless,” which is a rant for another day). Eradicating it from your vocabulary, whether in 2022 or beyond, will improve your writing’s clarity and specificity—irregardless of whether you agree with me on its status as a word.
Коментари