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Answer to the travel picture on Home Page: Lamego, portugal

We once joined a short-term mission team and traveled from the US to Taiwan to lead a children’s summer camp and co-host meetings with a local church. One day, we needed to take a public bus. A local coworker specifically asked me to remind the young members of our team to lower their voices on the bus. He was well aware that many young Americans lack an understanding of other cultures and often behave the same way no matter where they go—talking loudly in English among themselves. In Taiwan and Japan, buses and subways are usually packed with passengers, especially during rush hour. Everyone is accustomed to lowering their voices to avoid disturbing others. Even when using mobile phones or listening to music, people wear headphones. In such environments, how can one tell if their volume is appropriate?

First, personal habits are important. When I was young, because my father was a pastor, I lived in the parsonage, directly above a small church chapel. My mother taught me from an early age to walk softly, speak quietly, and not to drop things or make noise. Otherwise, it would disturb the people attending services downstairs. The environment we lived in was quiet, and there were no nearby neighbors. Even a soft voice could be heard clearly. If, instead, I had grown up in the countryside and played outdoors with other kids, I might have needed to speak louder so others could hear me. Over time, such people might become accustomed to speaking loudly out of habit.

Another way to gauge your volume is by observing others’ reactions. The anthropologist Edward Hall (1914–2009) coined the terms high-context and low-context cultures to describe cultural differences. American culture is considered a low-context culture: from preschool age, parents and teachers encourage children to express their thoughts and feelings through words. Children are taught not to hit people or throw things when they are angry. Instead, they are encouraged to say, “I am angry!”

In contrast, in high-context cultures—like those in Japan or China—many emotions and thoughts are not spoken aloud. People learn from a young age to read the other person’s tone of voice, pitch, facial expressions, eye contact, and body language to understand them. This type of subtle communication is difficult to grasp unless you grew up immersed in that culture.

In a low-context culture, if someone’s voice is too loud, we simply and politely ask them to tone it down. I’ve even had friends pause mid-conversation and pull me aside to continue talking in a quieter corner, so as not to disturb others. In contrast, in a high-context culture, people may respond with nonverbal cues, such as staring at you or quietly moving away. Those who are attuned to such signals should recognize the need to lower their voice.

In addition to volume, we also need to be mindful of the dialect we use. When I was in college, I once shared an elevator with a group of students from West Africa. They were chatting and laughing loudly in their native dialect. At the time, I felt ignored and disrespected. I didn’t understand them. Yet in such a confined space, I had no choice but to listen. That experience made me realize that if I speak my own dialect with friends in public and those around me don’t understand, it’s more polite to tone down.

In today’s world, when we talk about environmental pollution, we often classify it—whether it’s water, air, or light pollution. The volume of our speech, like other noise, can contribute to noise pollution. When it’s not necessary, it’s better to keep our voices down.

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It’s hard to believe that after publishing nine fiction books and being named a 2025 Featured Author by the Minnesota Anoka County Library, I still struggle with the problematic habit of overusing “and”-linked phrases and repeating words.

My editor has repeatedly pointed out issues with my problematic habit.

* Slow down the pacing: The narrative feels sluggish due to too many and-linked phrases and repetitive words (e.g., “but”, “could”, “know”, “feel”, “think”).

* Weaken the writing: Unnecessary repetition makes the prose less powerful.

* Distract the readers: Redundancies often disrupt immersion, making readers notice the writing itself rather than the story.

Consider the following example: “She was tired, exhausted, and weary.” All three words convey nearly the same idea. The redundancy makes the narrative awkward.

Why do writers fall into this trap? Personally, I use redundant phrases when I want to heighten the emotional impact. Others might do it to imitate the patterns of spoken language. Whatever the reason, it’s a habit that can be difficult to break.

Here are a few strategies to help eliminate redundancy:

1. Choose the strongest word. For example: “She was exhausted.”

2. Use specific details. Instead of telling, show what tiredness looks like. For example: “She slumped in her chair.”

3. Vary sentence structures: Use different sentence structures to replace “and” lists with imagery or action.

4. Use intentional repetition. Sometimes repetition is effective, but it should be purposeful, not just wordy. For example: “She was tired. So very tired.”

5. Read aloud. Reading the work aloud helps catch problems with awkward repetition or rhythm.

6. Identify words we frequently repeat and remove unnecessary occurrences from each chapter.

As a writer, we never stop learning. Every author rewrites, refines, and relearns with each project. Be patient. The quest for clearer, more powerful prose is proof that we care about our readers—and about our art.