Until this year's political campaigns, who ever heard or read the word “traction” or “resonate” referring to public reaction to a campaign promise by just about anyone running for office?

And here is “nuance,” formerly solely in the province of sophistry and a computer software company, being tossed around like a Tiffany-leather basketball.

Oh, the nerve of these Socratic parvenus, letting loose with “louche.” Until this year, that word was the exclusive property of The New Yorker and me, both of whom used it to tell people, “I know a word that you don't, nyaah, nyaah.”

(No, I'm not going to define “louche.” Look it up, while we go on to meatier stuff such as what's wrong with “define.”)

SELL, DON'T DEFINE

Effective direct marketing copy offers squats on two bases: Emotion-grabbing words and action-demanding verbs and adverbs.

Typically, advertising writers look for adjectives. That's traditional, but it doesn't maximize effectiveness. Adverbs, the Cinderellas of communication, have the advantage of seeming to be less obviously promotional.

Pedants obfuscate. Marketers sell. But more significant are two points every successful one-to-one salesperson knows implicitly:

• Active voice outsells passive voice.
• Imperative outsells declarative.

Accountants define. Definitions invariably lapse into passive voice. Lawyers proclaim. Proclamations invariably lapse into the declarative.

Check your words. Are you writing in a convivial, rapport-inducing style? That's good. Is your copy so convivial it's sophomoric? That's bad. The rules of 21st-century copywriting aren't the same as those that applied 15 years ago. Why? Because that great leveler, the World Wide Web, has proletarianized communication. E-mails are coincidentally aimed at multimillionaires and minimum-wagers, with no adjustments in wording.

SYNONYMS AREN'T SYNONYMOUS

What is the difference between “Synonyms aren't synonymous” and “Synonyms are not synonymous”?

The journeyman copywriter might say, “No difference exists.” The meistersinger says, “Factually the information is the same, but we deal in force-communication, manipulating word-mantles that project facts in force-communication terms.”

Forever locked in my memory is a conversation I had with a colleague in which I asked his opinion of a marketing “expert” we both knew. “That man,” he said, “is not relevant.”

Note the power of “not” in this use. Suppose he had said, “That man is irrelevant.” Technically, the “ir” prefix means “not,” so technically the statement would have had the same meaning, and an uninvolved observer would have assumed the two were an exact parallel. But how about an involved observer? If we're after impact, the power of “irrelevant” is fractional against “not relevant.” If we want a throwaway, we use “irrelevant.”

So we have one of hundreds of mini-rules we can and should add to our rhetorical arsenal:

“Not” has greater force than parallel substitutes.

Don't believe it? Ask some outsiders to evaluate the two, comparatively. They'll confirm.

So “This is not possible” states a final position more profoundly than “This is impossible.” “In my opinion this situation is not reversible” is more absolute than “In my opinion this situation is irreversible.” “I am not certain” is more definitive than “I am uncertain.” “The wound is not significant” is more definitive than “The wound is insignificant.”

Verbs are a heavy determinant of reader/listener reaction. Construct a sentence in which you interchange ran, rushed, sped, sprinted, scurried, darted, jogged, loped and any other equivalents that come to mind. Each generates a different emotional reaction.

Voilà! The right choice of verbs for a specific situation is another separation between the journeyman and the meistersinger.

Still unconvinced that a single word can prime or clog an emotional pump of receptivity? Proof is as easy as the difference between sexy and sensual. A man describes a woman as sexy. Both image and prospect cheapen: other men look at legs and appurtenances. The man describes the same woman as sensual. Both image and prospect add dimension: other men look at lips, listen to the voice, turn on their imaginative engines.

A PET WORD-GRIPE

When a message is out of key within itself, with luck the result is confusion. Without luck, the result is rejection. Do you want either of those reactions?

The World Wide Web and its schizophrenic child e-mail have emphasized a stupidity I've previously criticized in these pages. Here's a credit card or service offer proudly labeled, “You've been pre-approved.”

Oh? If I'm pre-approved, what is the shoot-yourself-in-the-foot word doing there? Yes, that's the word — application. Hold it, buster. I'm pre-approved, so you're the applicant. I'm already firmly perched on Mount Olympus.

If we didn't see thoughtless word-stringing every day (and it's every day, not everyday), we'd think a marketer who's shooting for a positive reaction would know how to exploit the difference between a legal “application” and a phony pre-approval.

So if you've checked a name against a credit bureau and the prospect actually has a credit rating justifying pre-approval, the enclosure isn't an “application.” It's an acceptance form.