Daily Inspiration Quote by Dick Schaap

Self-deprecation is Schaap's opening move, but its real purpose is to tighten the screws on everyone else. By confessing to "common" mistakes - cliches, adjective-stacking, the lazy scaffolding of bad prose - he signals insider credibility: he knows the sins because he committed them, and because he had the craft-awareness to recognize them as sins. The line isn't just about writing habits; it's about standards, and how quickly a culture of speed rewards the appearance of voice over the labor of precision.

The subtext is twofold. First, Schaap draws a bright line between ornament and observation. "Clear, vivid writing" is the ideal because it implies reporting that has actually been seen, understood, and rendered - not padded. Cliches are pre-fabricated meaning; excessive adjectives are the writer trying to muscle in feeling where the facts or images won't carry it. He's diagnosing a kind of panic: if you don't have the scene, you decorate the sentence.

Then comes the sly kicker: spelling. It's a joke with a bite, a generational jab at declining gatekeeping, but also a point about professionalism. Spelling is the minimum competence that used to be assumed in newsrooms with editors, copy desks, and time. By framing it as "a rarity these days", Schaap isn't only grumbling about typos; he's lamenting the erosion of editorial infrastructure and the lowering of expectations in a media environment that publishes first and corrects (maybe) later. The humor masks a serious fear: when basics slip, so does trust.