Plain words.

Write so the busiest reader on the thread understands it the first time.

A lot of what I write in a day is short. A reply, a note to someone picking up a task, a few lines explaining why something changed. None of it is meant to be admired. It is meant to be understood, quickly, by someone who has other things on their mind.

The people reading those notes are spread out. I split my time between Latin America and the United States, and I get to Europe and Asia when I can, so the same message might be read over breakfast in one city and late at night in another. Often it is read in a second or third language. That changes what good writing looks like. A clever phrase that lands well with one reader can stop another reader cold.

So I try to use plain words. Short sentences. One idea at a time. The common word instead of the impressive one. “Start” instead of “commence.” “Late” instead of “behind the anticipated timeline.” If a sentence needs to be read twice, it usually needs to be rewritten once.

Idioms are the quiet trap. Phrases that feel natural to me as a Canadian, the sports metaphors and the casual shorthand, do not always survive translation. “Let’s touch base” or “that’s a heavy lift” can mean nothing at all to someone reading carefully in another language, or worse, mean something I did not intend. I would rather say what I mean directly, even if it sounds a little flat.

Plain writing is also kinder to the person in a hurry. The work I do sits in eCommerce, payments, and health companies, and in all three, people often read a message between other tasks. They want to know what happened, what it means for them, and whether they need to do anything. If those three things are in the first few lines, the message has done its job. Everything else is optional context.

Numbers and dates deserve extra care. Writing a date as numbers alone invites confusion, because different places read day and month in a different order. Writing out the month removes the doubt. The same goes for times: a time without a time zone is a guess waiting to happen. These are small habits, but they prevent the kind of mistake that takes a whole extra exchange to untangle.

There is a pull, sometimes, to write in a way that sounds more serious or more expert. Longer words, more qualifiers, a formal tone. I have done it, usually when I was unsure of myself. It rarely helps. Plain language does not mean shallow thinking. If anything, it is harder, because there is nowhere to hide a vague idea.

When I reread something before sending it, I ask a simple question: would someone who is tired, busy, and reading in their second language understand this on the first pass? If the answer is no, I cut a clause, swap a word, or split a sentence in two.

I still miss. Old habits slip back in, especially when I write fast. But plain words are one of the few writing habits I have never regretted. They save time for everyone on the thread, and they leave less room for the misunderstandings that cost far more than a few extra seconds of editing.