As attorneys, as judges, as people, we are forever in pursuit of the right words. Many a CLE has been devoted to a question-and-answer session with judges focused on what they look for in a motion or brief. What techniques do the judges find persuasive? How can counsel keep a high-volume judicial reader engaged? What degree of ire will the use of footnotes provoke? Judges' answers inevitably reflect differences of opinion: One judge reads a reply brief first on the belief that it will reflect the most distilled version of the issues to be determined and another finds that a reply brief rarely adds new value. Many judges find a narrative structure helps with factual digestion, others warn against sacrificing clarity for the sake of story. Despite the differences in opinion, or perhaps because of them, this discourse helps promote more thoughtful and purposeful writing from advocates, which benefits both the bench and the bar.

Quality writing from counsel is only part of the equation, however, and judges can benefit just as much as the bar from taking the time to revisit the fundamentals that underlie our own writing. Indeed, in our efforts to untangle the issues with which we are presented, it is possible to forget that we write not only to resolve the immediate disputes raised by the litigants, but to provide guidance to the bar, transparency for our determinations, and, yes, even to persuade others as to the correctness of our resolutions. Self-reflection reminds us that our audience includes not just the attorneys who appear before us, each of whom speaks the same legal language in which we were trained. It also includes their clients, courts for which our decisions will serve as binding precedent, courts that will review our determinations, and the public in general. Each writing weaves itself into our common law system of justice and becomes a permanent part of that fabric. The better the writing, the stronger the thread.