If you want to be a better writer, particularly a writer who authors white papers and case studies, you have to be an archeologist. Grab your hat and a whip—you’re going to need them. Boulders will give chase; you will fall into a pit of snakes. Be prepared. Come with the whip at the ready.
Most days, you won’t need it. You’ll spend the hours on your hands and knees, groveling in the sand, looking for the faintest glint of bone fragment or pottery shard. Sometimes you find them; sometimes you don’t; and other times they’re a fabrication designed to throw you off the chase. Don’t give up in any of the scenarios. Keep digging, looking for the real thing.
You’ll find it. Your job as a writer-archeologist bears similarities to the role of the detective. You follow the trail, trace the fragments back to their center. Again, it might exist, it might not, or it could be a clever ruse meant to trip you up.
In such cases, the statistic has no real data to back it up—it’s simply part of common mythology. Everyone says it’s true, but no one can prove the claim. Other times, the data is too old to be functional. It’s a great finding, but you have to wonder if it’s accurate. It probably isn’t. Too many years have passed; too much has changed. It crumbles to dust in your hand if you examine it too closely.
You should always examine it that closely. Every point you make should be true and able to withstand scrutiny. If they aren’t, someone else with hat on head and whip in hand will come along and destroy the findings, potentially destroy you. Don’t let that happen. Be the better writer, be an archeologist.
Image: Hans Splinter (Creative Commons)