Disclaimer: I didn't pick this book with the intention of nitpicking. However, it was impressed upon me by those on high that this is the bible for style.
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They say those who can't, teach, and it's telling that of all the named books in Brohaugh's list of published works, the majority are books about writing.
He has some basic practical advice like don't use adverbs -- useful if you're someone who struggles to string a sentence together. Altogether, however, the style prescribed by Write Tight has the same depth of character as Bella Swann and the colour and taste profile of British cuisine.
Some of his other advice goes against journalism ethics (don't alter someone's quotes to make them sound more polished and educated), so take it at your own peril.
He mistakes scientific accuracy for redundancies. For example, he laments the use of 'male-pattern baldness', asking whether there is any other kind. To which I would answer, yes, and if he paid any attention to modern high school biology, he would know that the gene for baldness is dominant in men and recessive in women, which means that if a man has one baldness gene, then he will go bald. A woman would need both chromosomes to contain the gene to go bald.
Being written in the 90s, the book advises disempowering language for marginalised communities, such as using 'disabled person' instead of a person living with disabilities, or 'wheelchair-bound' instead of 'someone who uses a wheelchair'. Don't do this. A person who is differently abled is not defined by their health status. A person who uses a wheelchair isn't defined by the wheelchair.
Brohaugh's own prose doesn't follow his own guidelines. In one chapter, he advises against using words that would require readers to bring out a dictionary. In another section, he uses both the words 'penurious' and 'superfluous' -- which leads me to ask how he qualifies the term 'readers'. Having won scholarships in English, I have never come across 'penurious', and 'superfluous' I learned from Jack Sparrow when he was trying to use overly complicated language to confuse some redcoats so he could attempt to steal a ship. And, speaking of redundancies, what's with all the bonsai stories? Just get to the point already.
There are writing books out there written by actual authors (like Stephen King's On Writing). I would recommend reading those instead if you want to learn more about writing that other people would read.
Edited to add:
Brohaugh's tastes are grounded in the fact that he grew up as an American man in the 20th century, and the book was published in 1993. He states early in the book not to state the 'obvious', for instance saying 'pie à la mode' instead of 'pie à la mode with ice cream' (the ice cream part being a redundancy in his mind). While that may be true for American readers, if you are writing with the intention of being read by another audience, the latter is preferable because not everyone serves pie with ice cream. Indeed, in many countries, pies are savoury things filled with meat. It's the same as 'bao bun' or 'naan bread'. The redundancy is to explain to people who don't know the foreign terms what they mean, rather than requiring them to go online and look it up.
Further edited to add:
I now fully believe that Brohaugh published a book on writing not because he had anything to offer, but because as an editor at Reader's Digest and Writer's Digest, as well as someone who has never been a successful writer, he knows more than anyone the desperation of wannabe writers. The good advice he provides had been published by superior practitioners of the craft before, and the examples he provides of his own writing, which he holds up as exemplars of how to write, are AWFUL.
"Thanks" and Bobby was slamming screen doors and pedaling off to the grocery store. (Write Tight, p.162) He says of this atrocity of a sentence, that it 'has flow to it, continuing action, the sentnece not bothering to stop from the time Bobby is saying "Thanks" to his hopping on his bike and scooting storeward, just as Bobby himself doesn't bother to stop. By using weak verbs, I have made a stronger sentence.'
Like... What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Not to mention he actually recommended committing grammatical mistakes simply for the sake of shortening something by two letters, yet just a few pages later, laments a newspaper's discarding of 'a' in a headline -- because how much space could it save, right?
The only saving grace of this book is the Apologia in the back, which advises us not to take any writing advice as a rule. Thank you, sir. I shall take that advice.