Writing tight used to mean keeping a bottle of bourbon in the bottom desk drawer. Lots of the best old-time journalists did it, slugging back an ounce or two or three on deadline. As a young reporter, I once was tasked by the city editor to drive home the editorial page editor after said editor was found lying under his desk, kicking his feet in the air and muttering obscenities about the mayor. The editor’s wife blamed me for his condition and then in an ironic twist, on the way back to the office, I wrecked the company car. Nobody got in trouble. That’s just the way things were.
Now that we are all on the straight and narrow, writing tight has an entirely different meaning and it isn’t half the fun. Keep it short, sister. Attention spans aren’t what they used to be.