Curt Jaimungal's 3 Rules of Writing

Some notes on pedagogy and chronicles

I’ll be brief.

These are some of my rules for writing on Substack. If you have your own rules, do let me know in the comments below.

Is there a way to frame even arcane, abstruse material in such a way that’s understandable and even engaging? If this was true, then what could that mean for your writing, speaking, or articulation in general?

Some of this is trivial, but it’s still worth reminding as even the trite can become relevant again when revived.

Rule 1: But / Therefore > And

If ever you’re explaining something, or writing a story, and you concatenate your paragraphs (or story beats, or what have you) with “and,” then this means you f’ed up.

No one cares about a sequence of facts. Instead, you have to build tension and consequence around them. The best way to ensure that what connects your beads are either “but” or “therefore.” Actually, this comes from Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

But who cares? Why can’t you just string along chains of facts? Because to keep someone interested, stakes, strain, and story matter. Even for dead facts. Thus, you need to make exposition like a narrative somehow.

Note that some synonyms for “but” are “however,” “yet,” “still,” “though,” etc. The standard ones you find in grade school work. Also, the synonyms for “therefore” are “consequently,” “so for that reason,” “thus,” “hence,” etc. Again, grade school.

To sum: Connect the threads of your content with “but” or “therefore”; not “and.”

Rule 2: Audience Insight > Your Insight

What I realized is that instead of trying to demonstrate my brilliance, it’s better to showcase the audience’s brilliance. That is, I found it’s best if I don’t attempt to lead the audience to a new result or some clever way of thinking that I came up with. Rather, it’s better if I show the audience how they came up with that idea themselves, or at least could have.

To do this, I make heavy use of phrases like “you may be thinking so-and-so at this stage.” Or “you probably notice an inconsistency here because of X and Y,” etc.

The point is, instead of me evidencing something, it’s best to have the reader/listener feel like they came up with it (or at least that they could have come up with it).

I wish I could remember the genesis of this. It was several years ago I watched a lecture titled something like How YOU Could Have Invented General Relativity (or what’s approximately that). Whatever it was, it was a bold claim. One that removes the ego from the presenter and just places the focus on you the reader/listener/watcher.

For me, I find it’s best to give up ownership of ideas in a sense, and act more like a tour guide where the audience themselves is the one ultimately making the discoveries.

Every arc of argumentation must nudge readers to privately credit themselves with insights they’d normally attribute to you.

To sum: Have your destination in mind, but ensure the audience feels and knows they were cunning enough to get there independently of you.

Rule 3: Non-trivial Triviality

I would find it difficult to compose my thoughts because I had a high level of “profundity” or “mellifluousness” or “novelty” if it were to justify being penned. I’ve changed my mind on this drastically.

A few weeks ago, I went through the written works of people I admire like Douglas Hofstadter and Edward Witten and realized that, actually, 80% or more of what they write are trivial, or recapitulations of what’s known, with only 20% being original or thought-provoking. My mistake was not realizing that this 20% gains its shrewdness from being built by the mundane. And furthermore, that people tend to remember the new results and just discard the triviality by skimming over it. There’s a psychological term called “gist” which the trivial gets compressed into.

My rule though is that I’m allowed to talk about what’s (relatively) commonplace, as long as I point out that it is indeed commonplace. For example, if I was speaking to mathematicians, I could cite Gödel’s theorem, but before I do so, I would mention “this is a result you all know well, Gödel’s theorem,” etc. That is, I will explicitly acknowledge that I’m not pandering to them by thinking I’m stating something avant-garde, when (for that audience) it’s commonplace/trivial.

To sum: Allow yourself to be trivial, as long as you point out the triviality.

Bonus Rule 4: State Your Retrenchment

This one’s quick: If you’re going to explain or write about something concisely, then it’s often useful to state that your write-up is crisp and laconic, as it demonstrates respect for the reader’s time and intellect since you’re suggesting twinly that you don’t want to waste their attention by needless protracting, and also that they are the type of person that can absorb the meaning in a terse argument.

To sum: If you’re going to be expeditious, don’t hide that fact. Make it known. Audiences appreciate it.

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And that’s it. But you probably know most of these rules, and just needed some reminding so let this serve as a jogger of your memory and go forth, young Padawan.

Actually, if you re-read this article (or other articles, or watch any of my podcasts) you’ll see these rules being employed throughout. It’s unconscious and uncontrived in large part because I’m merely writing aloud my thoughts, like a transcriber of an inner monologue that I’m (painfully) aware of. Thus, it's ingenuous because I'm actually vocalizing my thought process almost verbatim. That's, in part, what feels natural about it.

In other words, this is how I think.

(I also talk about writing as thinking here, with Tyler Cowen.)

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In some sense, it's about honoring the sagacity of your audience by saying what they know (or are close to knowing), but in a manner that makes them realize it themselves.

I want to hear from you in the Substack comment section below. I read each and every response.

—Curt Jaimungal

P.S.: A tactic I intensely dislike (and I mean, intensely!) is when people say in YouTube videos or articles, “Stay tuned till the end because there’s a twist,” or, “You’re going to want to keep watching because this story isn’t what it seems, but more on that later.” I find these dangling carrots to be extreme turn-offs, so I don’t employ them in any of my podcasts or writing.

P.P.S.: This article is in a similar vein to my “Personal Guide on Building Habits,” so if you enjoyed this, you may enjoy that write-up as well.

P.P.P.S.: It’s paramount for me to have anti-rules rather than rules. That is, I keep a list of what not to do, what not to write about, or what to avoid saying, more so than a list of what to proactively accomplish (e.g. I do not simplify, as the audience is perspicacious enough to understand the details). This applies to other aspects of my life, including what to learn. I keep an anti-list of what I endeavor to not learn, more so than what I do want to learn. It’s like the difference between being cataphatic and apophatic. Perhaps one day I’ll share.