Long emails invent extra work

Long emails often prove that the writer has transferred the hard work of deciding to everybody on the distribution list. Seven hundred words can be perfectly concise if the subject is complex; they are indulgent when the request is missing.

Imagine a sender who has written 742 words because three questions remain unresolved: who decides, by when, and on which evidence.

Recipient one thinks approval is required. Recipient two thinks it is an update. Recipient three misses the deadline in the final paragraph. Five replies produce a second email explaining the first.

The sender calls the original thorough.

An editor opens a blank page and writes: “Please approve option B by 4pm Thursday.” Underneath go the reason, the main risk and a link to the supporting detail. The message is now shorter because somebody decided what the recipients must do.

Length alone caused little damage. A complex judgement may require history, evidence and qualifications. The problems were sequence and ownership. Background arrived first because choosing the request felt abrupt.

Three readers test the revision.

“Why did this reach me?” Approval.

“What action belongs to me?” Choose or reject option B.

“When?” Thursday.

One reader still needs the full evidence and opens the attachment. The other two stop after the main risk. No intelligence has been insulted.

Some subjects need a conversation. Heroic compression can become cryptic, so the editor adds a twenty-minute discussion for anyone who disagrees.

126 words. One objection. A decision can now happen before the afternoon breeds another email.