I used to think that being thorough meant being effective.
In meetings, I would explain every angle of an idea. In emails, I would cover every possible objection before anyone raised them. In conversations with my wife about something as simple as weekend plans, I would lay out all the options, pros and cons included, before she could even respond.
One evening, after I’d spent several minutes explaining why I thought we should try a new restaurant—citing reviews, parking availability, and the menu’s kid-friendly options – she looked at me and said, “Ryan, you could have just asked if I wanted to try somewhere new.”
She was right. And that moment stuck with me.
The problem with over-explaining
For years, I confused quantity with quality in my communication. I assumed that more information meant better understanding. But the opposite is often true. When we overload people with words, we dilute our message. The important stuff gets buried under layers of context they didn’t need.
This was a pattern I developed early in my career at a marketing agency. Client presentations became exhaustive explanations rather than clear recommendations. I thought I was being professional.
What I was actually doing was making it harder for people to say yes.
The irony is that communication is about connection – and connection requires space. When every pause is filled and every point is laboured, there’s no room for the other person to think, respond, or engage.
You end up talking to people rather than with them.
What brevity actually requires
Here’s what I didn’t understand for a long time: brevity is hard. Much harder than rambling. Anyone can fill time with words. The real skill is knowing which words to leave out.
There’s a quote often attributed to Blaise Pascal that captures this perfectly. He wrote in a letter, “I would have written a shorter letter, but I did not have the time.”
Editing takes effort. Distilling your message down to its essence requires that you actually understand what you’re trying to say—and why it matters.
This applies everywhere.
- In business writing, brevity saves time and improves decision-making.
- In presentations, a concise message is more persuasive because people actually remember what you’ve said.
- In personal conversations, getting to the point shows respect for the other person’s time and attention.
When I started coaching clients on their personal brands, I noticed something interesting. The people who struggled most to articulate their value weren’t those who had nothing to say. They were the ones who had too much to say and couldn’t prioritise.
Clarity doesn’t come from adding more. It comes from stripping away until only the essential remains.
The questions that changed how I communicate
I’ve developed a few questions I ask myself before any important communication—whether it’s an email, a presentation, or even a difficult conversation with one of my kids.
What’s the one thing I need this person to understand?
Not three things. Not five things. One thing. If they walk away remembering only a single point, what should it be?
- What can I remove without losing meaning?
This is where the real editing happens. Every sentence should earn its place. If something doesn’t serve the core message, it goes – no matter how clever or interesting it might be.
- What does the other person actually need from me right now?
This one matters most. We often communicate based on what we want to say rather than what the other person needs to hear. Shifting that perspective changes everything.
Listening as the foundation
The surprising thing about learning to say less is that it starts with listening more.
When I truly pay attention to what someone is asking or what they need, I don’t feel the urge to fill the space with everything I know. I can respond to the actual question rather than the question I anticipated.
Growing up between Tokyo and Sydney gave me an early education in this.Japanese communication styles tend to value what’s left unsaid as much as what’s spoken. Silence isn’t awkward – it’s meaningful. Moving to Australia, where conversation flows more freely and directly, I had to learn to navigate both approaches.
What I eventually realised is that the best communicators in any culture share one thing: they listen carefully before they speak.
Putting it into practice
These days, I measure the quality of my communication not by how much I’ve said, but by how much has been understood. The goal isn’t to impress people with my knowledge or cover every base before they can object.
The goal is connection and clarity – and both require restraint.
My wife still teases me occasionally when I slip back into old habits. But those moments are rarer now. And when they happen, they remind me that good communication isn’t about perfection—it’s about intention.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the most powerful thing you can sometimes say is less. Trust that your words carry weight. Trust that the person you’re speaking with can fill in the gaps. And trust that saying what matters—and nothing more—is always enough.
Less noise. More meaning. That’s the playbook.
