Two kinds of people ruin meetings. The first circles for five minutes without reaching the point. The second uses only recognizable words, yet you leave unsure what you were supposed to do.

The problem isn't the mouth. It's the thinking. When people can't speak briefly, they usually haven't thought things through โ€” or don't know which parts to keep.

Two layers: the "way" and the "technique"

Speaking has two layers.

  • The way (้“): think before you open your mouth, pick the point, keep the logic straight.
  • The technique (ๆœฏ): once the meaning is set, say it in as few words as possible.

Most people get stuck on the first layer. Short video, bullet comments, and instant messaging have trained us into "reflexive fragments" โ€” we speak the moment we think, instead of thinking before we speak. Expression fragments, and the logical thread snaps. Polish the technique all you want; without the way, it won't carry.

Ask three questions before you speak:

  • What do I want the listener to remember?
  • Where's the point of this?
  • If I could only say one sentence, what would it be?

Answer those and you've already cut the speech in half.

Concise isn't minimal

Here's a common mistake: treat concision as cutting every sentence to the bone, like a telegram.

That's wrong โ€” especially at work. Strip out the polite buffers and the words turn hard. People aren't parsing your grammar; they're reading your attitude. Words like "maybe," "roughly," "if possible," "I think" look like filler, but they're lubricant. Cut too far and the meaning survives while the tone dies.

Why short sentences save brains: cognitive load

It's cognitive science.

Cognitive load theory, developed by John Sweller, rests on one premise: working memory is tiny. It holds only about four chunks of new information at once (Miller's classic 7ยฑ2, refined by later estimates to 4ยฑ1). Every redundant word occupies a slot. Fill the slots and whatever comes next simply falls out.

That's why this line from Strunk & White's The Elements of Style is worth memorizing:

Vigorous writing is concise. A sentence should contain no unnecessary words, a paragraph no unnecessary sentences, for the same reason that a drawing should have no unnecessary lines and a machine no unnecessary parts.

The same applies to speech. Every word you delete frees a slot in the listener's working memory. It's not a stylistic preference โ€” it's respect for their attention.

Language is half redundancy

Information theory makes an even harsher point.

In his 1951 guessing experiment, Shannon estimated that written English carries roughly 80% statistical redundancy โ€” most of what you hear can be predicted from context. A 2025 PNAS study pushed further and separated out "semantic redundancy": about half of a sentence's uncertainty comes from its meaning, the other half from its wording.

In other words, rambling is the default of language. The brain naturally leaks filler because it costs nothing. Concise speech goes against nature โ€” it has to be practiced on purpose.

This also explains a familiar annoyance: people who use recognizable words yet communicate nothing. Redundancy is meant to absorb noise, but too much of it becomes the noise. Cutting is not about zeroing out redundancy โ€” a channel needs some slack โ€” it's about removing the parts that carry nothing.

Lead with the bottom line: BLUF and the pyramid

The military and journalists figured out the same thing long ago: put the conclusion first.

The U.S. military's communication standard is BLUF โ€” Bottom Line Up Front. Give the bottom line, then the reasoning. Barbara Minto's "Pyramid Principle," developed at McKinsey, is the same logic: conclusion on top, evidence beneath, each layer supporting the one above. Journalistic writing uses the inverted pyramid: the most important information goes in the first paragraph, the rest in descending order of importance.

Why? Because listeners leave whenever they want. Spend five minutes on setup and your audience walks at second thirty, taking nothing with them. Lead with the conclusion and at least they leave with the one thing that mattered.

Same for everyday speech: give the result first, then the process; the recommendation first, then the reasoning. Don't make people guess what you're getting at.

How to practice

Four drills. They're simple; consistency is the only trick.

Write it down, cut it in half. Write out what you want to say, then delete: every "actually" and "just" that doesn't change the meaning, every repetition, every bit of throat-clearing. Cut until you can't cut any more โ€” then read it aloud. You'll find spoken language needs its own rhythm that writing doesn't.

Record yourself. Capture two minutes of impromptu speech and count the fillers: how many "so," "like," "you know," "um." The number will shock you โ€” and then you'll stop.

Give a one-sentence recap. After explaining something complicated, add "in one sentence: โ€ฆ" and compress the whole thing to a line. Do it often enough and you'll start filtering before you speak.

Have someone verify. After you explain, ask: "Summarize it back in three sentences." If they can't, your message had waste in it.

Here's what these drills most often produce:

Original Concise Notes
I actually haven't quite figured out the whole process yet, so I might still need some more time to double-check. I haven't figured out the process yet โ€” might need more time to confirm. In formal settings, "I'm still working through the process" is more polished than "haven't figured out the process yet."
I don't think I've received that file yet โ€” not sure if it was sent to the wrong place or just missed. Haven't received the file โ€” was it mis-sent or just missed? To a boss or client, soften with "maybe it was missed?" The "maybe" takes the edge off the implied blame.
I understand what you mean, but I feel like maybe we could discuss it a bit more and see if there's another option. I get what you mean โ€” but let's see if there's another option. "See if there's another direction" sounds even more collaborative.
Overall the plan is pretty good, but I feel like we might still need to polish the details a bit. The plan is solid overall โ€” let's polish the details. "Let's polish" is a joint effort; "we need to polish" reads like criticism of the current version.
Sorry, I didn't quite catch that part just now โ€” could you possibly say it again? Sorry, I missed that โ€” could you say it again? Natural, polite, softener intact. Leave it alone.

It's about tact, not word count

Being concise and being minimal aren't the same thing.

The real craft isn't word count. It's that the speech got shorter while the attitude survived โ€” the meaning stayed the same and the tone improved. "We need to polish the details" is an inspection; "let's polish the details" is an invitation.

This is where a language's texture lives. The content doesn't change; a shift in tone and phrasing makes the difference between feeling criticized and feeling respected. How you speak is where emotional intelligence shows up in the room.

So practicing concision isn't practicing "talking less." It's three things:

  • Think before you speak โ€” the way
  • Delete words that don't carry meaning โ€” the technique
  • Keep enough politeness for the situation โ€” the tact

Do all three and your speech shortens on its own โ€” and stays short without turning harsh.

References