Structural Integrity

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Structure is an artificial construct designed to assist in the transfer of meaning.

We seek literary structures, building structures, city structures, which simplify use, simplify the transfer of necessary understanding, prevent us from entering the intersection while the train is coming through. Structure is communication. It is a device for funnelling the intended receiver in pre-planned directions to assist them in drawing the appropriate conclusions. The use and reuse of existing structural templates aids in the transfer of meaning by giving the user a familiar path to follow, a method that they already know, for deciphering the message and consuming the meaning correctly.

The reuse of existing structural templates can be a device for concealing true meaning and intent by directing the receiver down a pre-planned path that leads them to the conclusion you want them to reach, and not necessarily to the truth.

Once you do something often enough, you don't question it anymore.

I. Introduction. Incite interest but don't give away too much of the purpose, so as to avoid prejudicing the reader.

It's 8:45am on a Tuesday morning and I'm getting my ass tattooed amidst a roomful of drunken strangers while drinking shooters out of disposable plastic tubes. A visiting vice president from our head office is standing next to me with a margarita.

"If you're getting one on your ass, then that's where I'm getting mine." He informs me. I smile and nod.

II. Body. Provide context and examples, to start leading the reader in the direction of the conclusion without actually telling them where you want them to go, in the hopes that they will draw the conclusion themselves.

IIa. Premise - Don't say where we're going, but hint at it. Try like hell to be clever.

Consider this. A while ago, a fairly smart guy named Adam Smith came up with a theory about something that he called "the invisible hand of the marketplace." The whole idea was that people, all pursuing their own personal interests, would collectively work to the benefit of society as a whole.

Adam Smith was an optimist.

IIb. Example #1.

My first job out of university introduced me to the concept of trade shows - big meetings held in exotic cities where everyone shows off their products, and customers come to shop around. An efficient means of dissemination of products and ideas and a key aspect of promoting one's goods. Supposedly.

Vaguely stunned but unwilling to pursue women too young to have seen a vinyl record, I look away and am struck by the shimmering image of our middle-aged IT manager table dancing violently, a beer in each hand.

I quickly learned a few things about trade shows. The key thing I was taught was that "what goes on the road, stays on the road," meaning that once you get home you tell no one about what happened. I'm pretty sure that this was also Led Zeppelin's touring mantra. No sense reinventing the wheel.

So I'm at the Hard Rock café where lights pulse, liquor flows, and a local TV celebrity is dancing on the bar while waitresses dispense free upside-down margaritas on either side of him.

"Shaggy, look at all these beautiful girls. You should be talking to them." Our CEO, clutching a martini of some kind is gesturing wildly at a throng of young girls percolating near the margarita dispensers.

"What's with the TV anchor guy there? Is he on some of those club drugs I keep reading about?" I'm half attempting to divert conversation to safer waters and half genuinely puzzled.

"Look at them. They're waiting for someone to come and talk to them!"

"Because normal people don't dance like that. It isn't helping his journalistic credibility."

"Shaggy, forget the TV guy! We're talking about you meeting some girls here!"

"They're 18 years old! I'm not hitting on teenagers!"

"Shaggy, 18 is just fine. Do you want me to show you how to talk to them?" His martini is vanishing at an impressive rate and I feel obligated to keep up.

"No, I'm fine. No demonstrations required." I throw back my beer and feign interest in the dance floor. When I turn back, a throng of teenage girls are laughing and planting little kisses on my esteemed leader's face.

Vaguely stunned but unwilling to pursue women too young to have seen a vinyl record, I look away and am struck by the shimmering image of our middle-aged IT manager table dancing violently, a beer in each hand. "Shaggy!" one of my co-workers shouts from the bar, "get over here, we're doing a round of tequila." All of this will, of course, be paid for on an expense account.