Do you remember those awful, enormous tailfins sported by American cars in the 1950s? They had no practical function. They didn’t make the cars drive better; there was nothing aerodynamic about them. They had nothing to do with transportation. Their sole purpose was to get attention.
In writing circles, it’s often said that you should avoid tailfin leads: gimmicky, juiced-up, catchpenny openers that amateurish writers often resort to in a desperate attempt to get underway.
An example:
“We’re going over now!” Thus ended a brief distress call on the night of February 1 from the master of the fishing vessel CHICA to the Coast Guard, and shortly thereafter, his life and that of his two crewman.
That’s from a judicial opinion. It would have been equally bad in a brief. Part of its awfulness is callously equating the end of a distress call with the end of three human lives.
Instead, you want an opener that’s integral to the overall structure and form of what you’re writing. It shouldn’t be a marginally relevant bauble meant to entice the reluctant reader. No. It should be essential to the whole—the point at which you embark on a journey with your reader. It should lead seamlessly into the core of what you’re writing.
How do you do that? In analytical and persuasive legal writing—memos, briefs, and legal opinions—you must state the problem clearly and concisely. Clearly. That means in a way that just about anybody can understand, including your nonlawyer relatives. That might take three or four sentences. Concisely. As far as we’re concerned at LawProse, that means within 75 words. We call it a deep issue.
Professor Bryan A. Garner has a time-tested method of teaching people to write deep issues, case after case, whatever the problem. Let him coach you through it.
But whatever you do, remember that if your opening paragraph doesn’t state the problem clearly and concisely, you’ve flunked the most important test of effective legal writing.