Nib #21: Donald Trump Bombs at the Libertarian Convention. (Or Did He?)

Last week, Donald Trump became first U.S. president to ever address the Libertarian National Convention. 


As the media gleefully reported, it didn’t go well. Trump’s 35-minute speech was repeatedly interrupted by boos and heckling from the convention floor. And his campaign’s last-minute attempt to win the Libertarian presidential nomination was dismissed out of hand.


By those in-the-room metrics, Trump’s appearance was indeed a flop. But I’m not sure those are the right metrics here. 


Given the endearing kookiness of political conventioneers in general — let alone at the proudly fringy Libertarian Party — could Trump’s advisors really have expected to secure the party’s presidential nomination on a wave of emotion after an ecstatically received speech?


It seems more likely Trump was not really talking to the 1,051 Libertarian Party convention delegates at all. Rather, he was talking to the 2 million Libertarian Party voters around the country. 


Watch the speech for yourself. Notice that Trump doesn’t do his usual gonzo, stream-of-consciousness, insult-comic routine. He reads text off a teleprompter. 


Moreover, he repeatedly dings the Libertarian Party’s complacency with winning their “3 percent” of the vote every four years. Team Trump surely knew this would only anger the delegates and harden their opposition to the Republican nominee. 


Which means it was intentional. Which makes sense.


Just as floor speeches by congressmen are not meant for the half-dozen clerks and randos milling around the House chamber, Trump’s speech at the Libertarian Convention was not really for the Libertarian Convention. On the contrary, the speech’s true purpose was to appeal to gettable, libertarian-minded voters in swing states by provoking and exposing the convention delegates’ principled-but-decidedly-idiosyncratic extremism. 


This is Triangulation Politics 101. 


Trump’s advisors fully understood he was not a plausible Libertarian nominee. But his agenda is more libertarian than President Biden’s record these last three years. And getting anti-Trump Libertarian Party insiders to boo the guy promising to dismantle the Deep State, protect the Bill of Rights, appoint libertarian cabinet Secretaries, and cut federal spending is a smart way of discrediting those insiders in the eyes of undecided, libertarian-inclined voters.


This is not to declare Trump’s speech a success. We won’t know that until November.


But it’s a vivid illustration of a powerful insight: writers should not see a composition’s setting — like the venue hosting a speech or the publication printing an oped — as an exogenous restriction on a pre-set strategy. Rather, it should be considered as an endogenous factor in developing the strategy in the first place.


Team Trump knew that if their man spoke at the Libertarian Convention, the delegates were going to boo. So rather than trying to navigate around this inevitability, they sailed right into it. They crafted the remarks so that the boos were not an embarrassing reaction to Trump’s speech but a key element of the real speech he was giving to his real libertarian audience out in the country.


The lesson for young writers? Before you start writing, think about who you’re really talking to and what you’re really trying to persuade them to do. It will clarify your thinking, strengthen your writing, and open up strategic opportunities you would otherwise miss.

Until next week… keep writing!

July 31, 2026
Smart writers have a weakness for overcomplicated sentences. The more ideas a writer can hold in his head, the harder it can be to present them in a reader-friendly way. If you ever find yourself writing or editing a sentence that feels overstuffed, stop and ask yourself, What is this sentence’s job? Most sentences perform one of three tasks: Saying what something is or is not. Saying what something is or is not like. Saying what something caused or was caused by. Once you decide which job the sentence needs to do, rewrite it as a simple independent clause doing that job and nothing else. Add back only what is necessary to express that one thought. Leave the next thought for the next sentence. If you’re having trouble connecting all your dots in one sentence, use two or three. Your readers will appreciate it. Until next week… keep writing!
July 24, 2026
This week, another addition to the Nib’s list of phrases writers should always delete from their work: “In today’s world…” First of all, it’s just a longer way of saying “today” or “nowadays” or “these days.” And writers should always look to trim extraneous words.  Second, the phrase is clunky. No confident human being in relaxed conversation ever says “in today’s world.” It’s the kind of thing we write when we are insecure and trying to fake it. Be confident. Be relaxed. Don’t let “in today’s world…” survive past your first draft. Until next week… keep writing!
July 17, 2026
At some point in the last two decades, around became the monster that ate the other prepositions. Every day we read of “debates around immigration” and “plans around the weekend” and “coordination around fundraising.” Good writers have to fight back. Around is a perfectly good word. But it means around. It does not mean about , regarding , for , toward , with , over , on , or to . The problem isn’t grammar; it’s clarity. When one word tries to do the work of half a dozen others, communication breaks down. Writing gets sloppy and readers get confused. Luckily, there’s an easy fix. Young writers who grew up amidst the Great Aroundening should make around a yellow-flag word, like that or issue . Every time you read it in your own work, pause and ask whether another preposition would better capture the relationship you're trying to describe. Prepositional precision may seem like nitpicking. It’s not. It can mean the difference between a clear sentence and a fuzzy one, a fluid paragraph and a clanging one, and a writing sample that earns an interview instead of a rejection. Always go the extra mile for your readers, not around them. Until next week… keep writing!
July 10, 2026
The trick to persuasive writing is that you have to change readers’ minds without putting them on the defensive for not agreeing with you in the first place. A great way to make arguments more palatable without watering them down is by using five humble but rhetorically powerful words: “It seems to me that…” Consider these three claims: City life is better than country life. Tax cuts boost economic growth. Yogi Berra was better than Johnny Bench. Now compare them to these: It seems to me that city life is better than country life. It seems to me that tax cuts boost economic growth. It seems to me that Yogi Berra was better than Johnny Bench. The assertions remain the same. But see how open and gracious the sentences become? Now imagine you prefaced each with a fact or two backing up the claim. All of a sudden, you have a confident, forceful argument that nonetheless draws your audience in by proposing rather than imposing your conclusion. When backed by evidence, humility and generosity are much more persuasive than swagger. “It seems to me that…” invites your audience to agree with you, which is the surest way to get them to yes. Until next week… keep writing!
July 2, 2026
Tomorrow Americans will celebrate Thomas Jefferson’s best piece of writing. Today, though, the Nib tips its cap to what may be Jefferson’s second-best line: a bit of writing advice, of all things. “The most valuable of all talents,” the Sage of Monticello said, “is that of never using two words when one will do.” He’s not wrong. Concision ( Nib #48 ) has distinguished good writing for far more than 250 years. It simultaneously signals humility and confidence, intelligence and generosity. It makes sentences clearer, easier to read, and much more persuasive. Indeed, as Jefferson himself proved, clear and concise writing can change the world. Until next week… keep writing!
June 26, 2026
Most writing advice has caveats. Even words like significantly and whomsoever have their place. But some words and phrases you really can just delete every time you see them in your drafts. Here are three: 1. “In order to…” 2. “The fact that…” 3. “It should be noted that…” These phrases are pure clutter. Instead of “in order to…” just say “to.” Instead of “the fact that…” try “that.” Or better yet, rework the sentence. It’s clunky. And instead of writing “it should be noted that…” just skip to the noting itself. (So “It should be noted that the stock price remains high” becomes “The stock price remains high.” ) We all write these phrases from time to time. The important thing is that when you come across them, don’t try to edit them. Don’t massage them. Just cut them. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. Until next week… keep writing!
June 19, 2026
Apostrophes are like deodorant or salt: people only notice if you use them wrong. So here is a quick Nib refresher. Apostrophes have three uses:  1. To indicate possession — as in “Bob’s haircut” or “Ted Williams’s bat.” 2. To make contractions, like “can’t” from “cannot.” (And remember, it’s always a contraction for “it is,” as opposed to the un-apostrophed possessive pronoun its .) 3. To pluralize individual letters, as in, “Sally got straight A’s” or “Mind your p’s and q’s.” Apostrophes do not make words plural. So it’s the 1980s , not the 1980’s. It’s a collection of CDs and DVDs , not CD’s and DVD’s . And it’s “keeping up with the Joneses,” not “the Jones’s.” No one will ever think you’re smart because you use apostrophes correctly. But if your résumé includes lines like managed intern’s or drafted constituent letters’ don’t be surprised if you don’t get called in for interview's. Until next week… keep writing!
June 12, 2026
There is nothing wrong with “to be” verbs — is , are , were , was , am , etc. Sometimes they’re the right word (like in this sentence!). But often “to be” verbs hide the right word. Consider: The Senator is a supporter of gun control. The storms were responsible for the delayed flights. In each case, an action verb can convey the same thought in a tighter, livelier sentence, like: The Senator supports gun control. The storms delayed the flights. Active verbs give your nouns something to do. And when your nouns move, so does your writing. So next time you’re editing something you wrote, circle every “to be” verb and then re-read the sentence. See if there is an active verb in the second half of the sentence masquerading as a noun or an adjective, like in the examples above. If swapping that verb in for the “to be” one makes the sentence brisker and more vivid, congratulations: you just learned a way to improve every paragraph you ever write. Until next week… keep writing!
June 5, 2026
For all the rules against using AI in your writing, there is one way all young writers should be using it: finding typos. AI apps are excellent at identifying the kind of mistakes that our eyes might overlook. Think misspelled or repeated words, doubled-up prepositions, that kind of thing. Writers get worse at finding these things after a few reads because familiarity with the text dulls our proofreading eyes. So when you have edited something yourself a few times already, have AI scrub it -- not for content, just for typos. Never have the app make the changes for you. Tell it to give you a list of typos it found, and then enter the changes yourself. That way you will always hold pen and own every correction yourself. Until next week… keep writing!
May 29, 2026
Reading is hard enough when words’ meanings are fixed. When they are fluid, it’s like trying to play catch in the dark. Young writers who want to join the rearguard fight for clarity against confusion can start with these five words that almost everyone misuses these days: 1. Enormity means terrible sin, not scope. So don’t refer to the “enormity of America’s victory in the Cold War” unless you’re a communist. 2. Unique means one of a kind, not rare. Never say “pretty unique” or “very unique.” Something is either unique or it’s not. 3. Nauseous describes things that make one nauseated ; it doesn’t mean sick at the stomach. As Strunk & White put it, “Do not, therefore, say, ‘I feel nauseous,’ unless you are certain you have that effect on others.” 4. Disinterested means impartial, like a judge. Uninterested means indifferent to, like the way people feel about professional lacrosse. 5. Finally, to imply means to hint at or suggest something as a writer or speaker. To infer means to conclude, as a reader or listener, what a writer or speaker might be implying. Always remember, precision in writing isn’t about pedantry; it’s about generosity toward one’s readers. Until next week… keep writing.