Repetition in writing and public speaking

There's a particular feature of writing for public speaking, which differs from writing to be read — repetition.

If people are listening to you and don't have the text in front of them, repetition of important points is very helpful. It can be used to embed an idea or an image in people's minds, or underline a central thought. Repetition can serve to keep listeners with you, as a phrase creates a refrain they come to expect — it can even inject humour.

I can think of a couple of instances from the Bible where this is seen in action. Bear in mind that in biblical times a lot of ordinary people couldn't read, and significant portions of the Bible emerged from oral tradition before being written down.

Have a look at Daniel Chapter 3, and see how repetition is used there to set the scene. Look for the repetition of the satraps, the prefects, and the governors, the counsellors, the treasurers, the justices, the magistrates, and all the officials of the provinces (in vv. 2, 3 and 27) and the repetition of the sound of the horn, pipe, lyre, trigon, harp, bagpipe, and every kind of music (in vv. 5, 7, 10 and 15).

Although we receive this written down, its power becomes recognisable when we imagine it being said — it's how the writer makes the story build. It brings out both the tension of the situation (what's Daniel going to do?) and the pretentiousness of the king. Because bear in mind the chapter opens by saying King Nebuchadnezzar made an image of gold — so right away we know that's not going to go well; we know about the gold calf and the disaster that was, we know the Almighty's opinion about the worship of graven images. 

Another phase that repeats in this chapter is Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (in vv. 12, 13, 14, 16, 19, 20, 22, 23, 26, 28, 29 and 30), the three men appointed at Daniel's request to oversee the province of Babylon (part of modern-day Iraq). See Daniel 1.7 and 2.49. Twelve repetitions in Chapter 3 of their names, in the same order, constituting the same phrase — so we're not going to forget them, are we?

The whole thing has the same effect as the song about the Harem of the Court of King Caractacus — it involves the audience, it builds, it injects humour, it embeds the story in the memory, and in the case of the Daniel story it effects a contrast between the empty pretensions of worldly power and the courage of those few who hold the line, remaining faithful to the precepts of the Lord in their time and place.

Rhetorical repetition of this kind is written imagining yourself at the podium or seated in the middle of a group of listeners, and is employed to hold their attention.

But when you are writing for lone readers holding a book in their hands, the technique doesn't transfer. 

Some writers — perhaps used to public speaking, out of which their book has emerged — transfer the technique, but it doesn't work.

Here's a snippet of Amazon copy for the book How To Do Things You Hate by Peter Hollins: 

Doing things you hate is a skill. And it's a skill that is always in high demand.

The repetition doesn't have the punch public speaking would give it, mainly because even though there's a full stop, you can't recreate on the written page the dramatic pause needed to create the imagined emphasis. That belongs to public speaking, not to written text. It would do just as well — or better — to say: 

Doing things you hate is a skill that is always in high demand.

That said, repetition doesn't always work in public speaking — it depends how it's done. Simple repetition is merely tedious.

Here's a short excerpt from a YouTube video about welfare benefits:

These are not minor conditions. They are conditions that change lives. 

 And another from a YouTube video about crime:

...on the face of it that kind of behaviour is the kind of behaviour that the police really ought to be arresting people for... 

Both would be improved by alleviating the repetition, because it's not skilfully done. So the content could be rendered:

These are not minor conditions: they are life-changing.

and

...on the face of it that is the kind of behaviour the police really ought to be arresting people for... 

In my own writing I often need to weed out extraneous repetition. It comes from writing as I'm thinking — so, in effect, thinking aloud — rather than doing the thinking beforehand and then crafting the text when I know what I want to say.

So I might write, for example:

The sermon that really makes a difference is the sermon that creates a bridge between the biblical text and lived experience.

I'd need to cut that down to:

The sermon that really makes a difference will create a bridge between the biblical text and lived experience.

Or I might write:

Jane Austen highlights how women observe the behaviour of others and how they create practical solutions to the problems of daily living.

It would be better trimmed to:

Jane Austen highlights how women observe the behaviour of others and create practical solutions to the problems of daily living.

There are, of course, effective forms of repetition in writing intended for solitary reading rather than public speaking. As a basic generalisation, I'd say it works in the story, but not in the texture of the prose.

So, for instance, in my later Hawk & Dove stories, once Brother Conradus becomes part of the community, there's a repeated inbuilt small joke, where Conradus offers sage advice about life and William asks, "Did your mother tell you that?" Every time Conradus is surprised and says that yes she did and asks how William knew.

For it to be amusing (which I hope it is), I am relying on the reader's familiarity with the characters in question and their respective personalities and spotting it as a recurring interaction. It also rewards the reader's engagement with the story, and sense of belonging in this place and connection with these people — the feeling of really knowing them. But of course, if the reader simply doesn't notice then not a lot is lost. 

There's another kind of repetition that all writers almost inevitably fall into — unintentionally using one word twice within a short space of time. for instance, just at the moment I'm reading through someone else's text (I'll change the name of the character to Smith for anonymity). It says:

... and had a soft spot for Mrs Smith, whose pugnacity hid a generous heart. At that moment the vicar spotted his recently-acquired curate…

Note the repetition of 'spot' in that excerpt. As I say, all writers fall into this trap, which makes a second pair of eyes on the text essential.

And finally there's what I call 'flocks of thats' — a repetition to be weeded out from any text.

Consider this (glorious) prayer by Thomas Merton. I see it's under copyright so I can't reproduce it here.

Notice that within seven lines of it he uses the word 'that' nine times. It's too many. I think he could cut it down to three — 'fact that' and 'that desire' (x 2).