I've been told before that my writing style is academic and editorial (read: way too long for a strategist). The first time I was told this, I took it as a compliment. The second, a coincidence. The third, fourth, fifth, six—oh shit—this is a problem, isn't it?
I spent much of my life in schooling, where overachievement in copy length is rewarded more than effectiveness of communication. We quietly gave ourselves high-fives for turning in eight pages for a paper that asked for six, and undergrad thesis writing turned into a pissing match of who could crush the 40-page minimum by the largest margin. I could attribute my liberal usage of word volume to that source code, but I've come to believe it's something else.
Someone once told me that we write more to sound smarter. In a way, it's actually a product of our own battles with imposter syndrome. We spend so much time trying to convince someone else that we're "smart," we wind up with a 1000 character count on a document that needs only 100.
Insecurity is a bitch, and most of us deal with it in some way or another.
As a strategist, much of my work is dependent on the words I choose and the frameworks I create—both of which are often delivered in slide decks. I used to present 20 slides, rationalizing every step of the extensive diligence I had done to reach the conclusion—what took me a while to realize was that my audience really only cared about three key money slides.
The supporting (read: fluffy) 17 only created room for confusion and were effectively me talking to myself in company of extra eyes.
Spend less time trying to convince people that you're smart. Spend more time being smart—trust that your work will reflect that.