Lawyers love to say they “need to work on their writing.”
Translation: they’ve read something they wrote, felt that little stomach drop, and thought, This doesn’t sound like me. This doesn’t even sound clear.
Here’s the good news: writing isn’t a talent. It’s a skill. And skills respond to the same cure as every other skill: reps.
Not glamorous reps. Not the kind that gets applause.
The kind you do in small rooms, when no one is watching, when you’re a little uncomfortable, when you want to quit halfway through because the sentence you just wrote feels like wet cardboard.
That’s the work.
To develop your writing system, identify specific habits like outlining themes, drafting quickly, and rewriting, because concrete practices make improvement tangible and achievable.
1. Stop writing to impress. Start writing to be understood.
Most legal writing problems aren’t “writing” problems. They’re intention problems.
When lawyers sit down to write, too many of them are trying to:
- sound smart;
- sound formal;
- sound “lawyerly”;
- avoid being wrong; and
- cover every base.
That’s how we end up with prose that’s technically correct but emotionally dead. It reads like it was drafted by a committee that hates the reader.
If you take nothing else from this column, take this:
Your job is not to sound like a lawyer. Your job is to help a reader decide.
That reader might be a judge who has 70 motions on the docket. Or an adjuster who is scanning your demand at 11:30 p.m., or a general counsel who is trying to explain your advice to a CEO who doesn’t speak legal.
Write to be understood. Everything else is ego.
2. Clarity is kindness.
One of the most underrated forms of professionalism is making it easy for people to follow your thinking.
Clear writing says, “I respect your time.”
The unclear writing says: “I’m going to make you work for it.”
Clarity isn’t dumbing things down. It’s doing the hard work up front, so the reader doesn’t have to.
Want clarity? Start with structure.
Before you write a single paragraph, answer:
- What is the point?
- What does the reader need to know first?
- What do they need to believe to agree with me?
Most legal writing improves dramatically when the writer outlines like a trial lawyer: theme, roadmap, proof.
If you can’t say your point in one sentence, you’re not ready to write the brief. You’re prepared to think.
3. Overthinking is not preparation.
Many lawyers confuse rumination with readiness.
They’ll “research” for hours, keep 24 cases open on their screen, and then write three bloated pages that never land.
At some point, you have to stop circling the runway and take off.
Permit yourself to write an ugly first draft, fostering confidence and reducing fear of imperfection in your writing process.
Not a “rough” draft. An ugly one.
Put the point on paper. Get the facts down. State the rule. Make the argument. Don’t polish while you’re drafting. Polishing too early kills momentum.
Drafting is for getting it out. Editing is for making it good.
Different muscles. Different phases. Don’t blend them.
4. The first draft is where you tell yourself the story. The rewrite is where you say to the reader.
If you’re not rewriting, you’re not writing — you’re typing.
And if you’re a young lawyer, rewriting is where you separate yourself from the pack.
The best writers are not the ones who “get it right the first time.” They’re the ones who are willing to cut, tighten, and clarify without getting emotionally attached to their original phrasing.
A mindset shift that helps: feedback is data, not a verdict.
If a partner marks up your draft as if it owes them money, that’s not a sign you’re terrible. It’s a sign you’re in the arena, learning in public. The only people who don’t get edited are the ones who don’t write.
So don’t sulk. Study the edits. Look for patterns. Are you:
- burying the lead?
- hedging?
- over-qualifying?
- explaining what’s obvious?
- Avoiding the key sentence because it feels too direct?
That’s the real lesson.
5. Earn the reader’s attention early by starting with a clear point or hook that makes them feel acknowledged and respected for their time.
Legal writing has a bad habit: it starts slow.
“COMES NOW the Defendant…”
No. Stop. Your reader is not warmed up. They are not impressed. They are not settling in with a cup of tea, delighted to hear your thoughts.
They are busy.
Start with the hook. The point. The why-now.
Try openers like:
- “This motion is about one issue: __.”
- “The question is simple: __.”
- “Plaintiff’s theory fails for a basic reason: __.”
You can be professional without being ceremonial.
If you want to write persuasively, you have to take responsibility for the reader’s attention span. Please don’t make them hunt for the point, as if it were hidden in a scavenger hunt.
6. Shorter is harder. Do the harder thing.
Most lawyers over-write because it’s safer.
More words feel like more protection. More caveats feel like fewer risks.
But in persuasion, extra words are usually extra exits for the reader.
Here’s an exercise that will change your writing fast: After you finish a draft, try to cut 15% without losing meaning.
Then cut another 10%.
You’ll be shocked at how much it improves when you eliminate:
- throat-clearing
- redundant phrases
- needless adverbs
- passive voice
- “It is well established that…”
Don’t just “edit.” Cut with purpose.
Write like every sentence costs money.
7. Learn to love plain words.
“Utilize” is not better than “use.”
“If” is not better than “if.”
“Before” is not better than “before.”
Fancy words don’t elevate legal writing. They weaken it. Fancy language creates distance. Plain language creates trust.
And when you’re writing for a client — especially a scared, stressed, non-lawyer client — plain language is empathy in action.
Your reader shouldn’t need a decoder ring to understand what you’re saying.
8. Read it out loud. Yes, really.
This is the most straightforward hack I know, and it’s the one most lawyers refuse to do because it feels weird.
Read the draft out loud.
If you stumble over a sentence, your reader will stumble too.
If you run out of breath, the sentence is too long.
If it sounds like something no human would ever say, you’ve drifted into Legalese Land.
Writing is spoken language cleaned up. If it doesn’t sound like a person, it won’t read like a person.
9. Improve your writing the way you improve anything else: reps + review.
If you want to become a better writer, don’t make it mystical. Make it mechanical.
Here’s a simple system you can run without changing your life:
Three reps a week:
- Rewrite something you already wrote (an email, a case note, a short motion section). Tighten it. Clarify it. Shorten it.
- Write 200–300 words on one idea you understand well. No citations. Just an explanation. Pretend you’re teaching a wise friend.
- Copyedit one great page of writing you admire. Not to plagiarize — to study rhythm and structure. Ask: How does the writer move the reader?
And here’s the part most people skip:
Review.
Look at what you did. What worked? What didn’t? What would you change next time?
That’s how you get better. Not by hoping. By tracking.
Significant improvement comes from boring daily math.
10. Develop a voice by telling the truth — professionally.
A lot of lawyers want “voice,” but they’re afraid of being human on the page.
Voice doesn’t mean being dramatic. It means being real.
It means writing with:
- candor;
- specificity;
- conviction;
- and a little bit of you.
If you’re writing an email to opposing counsel, your “voice” might be calm, direct, and firm. If you’re writing to a client, it might be clear, steady, and reassuring. If you’re writing a brief, it might be confident, organized, and restrained.
Voice is not personality for its own sake. It’s the tone that earns trust in the context you’re in.
And if you want to build that voice faster, write publicly sometimes. A short LinkedIn post. A bar newsletter. A practice-group note. Not to “build a brand,” but to get reps at explaining ideas clearly.
You don’t get better by waiting for confidence. You get better by writing anyway.
A closing thought
If you’re a young lawyer and you feel behind, you’re not.
Most lawyers never intentionally improve their writing. They keep producing pages and hoping the pages get better by osmosis.
They don’t.
But if you decide — today — that you’ll do reps and rewrites, you’ll separate yourself quickly. Within a year, people will start saying, “Have them draft it.” And that’s when doors open.
Writing is leverage in this profession.
It’s how you persuade. It’s how you lead. It’s how you earn trust when you’re not in the room.
So don’t wait for a perfect schedule or perfect inspiration.
Write. Rewrite. Cut. Clarify.
And keep going — especially when it’s ugly.
That’s the part that counts.
Frank Ramos is a partner at Goldberg Segalla in Miami, where he practices commercial litigation, products, and catastrophic personal injury. You can follow him on LinkedIn, where he has about 80,000 followers.
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