Certified: The GIAC GSTRT Audio Course

In this episode, we focus on a skill that quietly separates dependable security leaders from everyone else, the ability to write a message that still works when the room is stressed, distracted, and short on time. Pressure changes how people read, and it changes what they retain, because their brain is sorting for danger, priority, and decision points rather than nuance. That means a well written message is not the one that sounds smartest, and it is not the one that includes every detail you know. It is the one that lands a decision, triggers the right action, and survives the forwarding chain without losing meaning. When you write for real pressure, you write for a human under load, not for a quiet desk and unlimited attention. The goal is simple: cut through noise without adding new noise, and leave the reader with a clear next move they can execute.

Before we continue, a quick note: this audio course is a companion to our course companion books. The first book is about the exam and provides detailed information on how to pass it best. The second book is a Kindle-only eBook that contains 1,000 flashcards that can be used on your mobile device or Kindle. Check them both out at Cyber Author dot me, in the Bare Metal Study Guides Series.

Before you write any words, get ruthless about the single purpose of the message. Under pressure, a message with two purposes usually accomplishes neither, because the reader cannot tell which thread to pull first. Purpose is not a topic, and it is not a category like incident update or risk note. Purpose is the one change you want in the world after the recipient reads the message, such as approve downtime, shift resources, accept a risk, or communicate a customer impact statement. If you cannot say the purpose in one sentence, the message will drift into commentary and the reader will drift into delay. This discipline also protects you from accidentally turning a time sensitive message into a mini report. When purpose is clear, everything that follows becomes easier, because you can test each sentence against the question of whether it supports the outcome or competes with it.

Once purpose is set, lead with the decision, the ask, and the required deadline. People under load do not want a slow reveal, and they do not want to hunt for what you need. Put the action up front in a way that can be executed by someone who reads only the first two lines on a phone. The decision is what must be true, the ask is what you need from the recipient, and the deadline is when you need it to avoid harm or miss a window. When those elements are buried, the message forces the reader to reconstruct intent, and reconstruction is where misunderstandings form. A decision first structure also reduces back and forth, because it creates a tight loop between what you are proposing and what you want them to do about it. If the recipient disagrees, they can disagree quickly and clearly, which is far better than silence or vague hesitation.

After the decision, give context in two sentences and resist the temptation to wander. Context is not your full reasoning chain, and it is not the history of how you arrived here, even if that history feels important to you. Context is the minimum set of facts a reasonable leader needs in order to feel grounded in the request. Two sentences is a forcing function that keeps you from turning the message into a narrative, and it pushes you to select facts that matter. If you need more detail for technical staff, that detail belongs in a separate channel or attachment, not in the decision message itself, because decision makers read differently than implementers. Digressions are not harmless under pressure, because they compete with the decision for mental space and they reduce the chance that the reader will remember the ask. Tight context keeps the recipient oriented without slowing them down.

Plain language is not a simplification of your thinking, it is a demonstration that you understand what the recipient needs. Under stress, complex phrasing raises the risk of misinterpretation, and misinterpretation raises operational risk. If a term must be used, define it briefly once in line, in a way that preserves flow. The definition should not sound like a textbook, and it should not become a new mini topic. The point is to remove ambiguity, not to teach a lesson midstream. If your reader is technical, plain language still helps, because clarity reduces mistakes when the team is moving fast. If your reader is not technical, plain language is the only way to ensure the request is understood well enough to be approved. When you choose simple words, you are buying speed and accuracy at the same time.

A common failure pattern in security communication is vulnerability jargon that never becomes a business consequence. You can be perfectly correct about a weakness and still fail to drive action if the reader cannot connect it to outcomes they own. Translating does not mean removing technical truth, it means mapping the technical situation to impact, likelihood, and decision relevance. Instead of leaning on labels like critical or severe, explain what could happen in a way that connects to service continuity, data exposure, regulatory commitments, or customer trust. The goal is not to frighten anyone, and it is not to sound dramatic, it is to make the risk legible to the person who must choose a path. When the message frames consequence, you reduce the chance of the recipient assuming it is a routine issue that can wait. That shift, from label to outcome, is often the difference between action today and regret later.

To make that translation real, imagine a message that says a remote code execution vulnerability exists in a public facing component. Many readers will hear that as security noise unless you connect it to what they care about. A consequence oriented message ties the weakness to the most credible negative result, such as service disruption, unauthorized access, or loss of integrity in a system that supports revenue. You can also link it to operational cost, because the difference between planned maintenance and emergency response is real money and real fatigue. The language should stay grounded, using concrete possibilities rather than speculative extremes. When you do this well, you create alignment, because technical teams see accurate framing and leaders see decision relevance. The message stops being about a vulnerability and becomes about preventing a specific bad day, which makes prioritization far easier.

Cutting fluff is not about being blunt for its own sake, it is about preserving cognitive bandwidth. Under pressure, every extra phrase is a tax on attention, and too much tax leads to skim reading and missed details. Fluff often shows up as throat clearing, hedging, or long scene setting that delays the ask. Replace vague nouns with verbs that describe action and outcomes, because verbs carry momentum and they reduce ambiguity. Instead of saying a review will be performed, say what will be done and by whom, even if you keep the message high level. Concrete outcomes are also easier to remember, which matters because pressure compresses memory and people often act hours later from what they recall rather than what they can re read. When you strip fluff, you are not removing professionalism, you are increasing reliability, which is the highest form of professionalism in an incident or risk decision.

Even when you are not using visual formatting, you should format mentally as you write, because structure guides comprehension. The mental model is simple, a headline that expresses the decision, a small set of key facts that justify it, and a recommended next step that matches the ask. Think of the headline as the sentence someone can repeat accurately in a meeting without you in the room. Key facts are the anchors that keep the headline from sounding arbitrary, and they should be limited to what changes the decision. The recommended next step should be phrased so it can be approved or delegated in one motion. This mental structure also prevents you from accidentally writing a status report when what you need is a decision. When you use the model consistently, your readers learn how to consume your messages, and that predictability reduces friction during the moments when speed matters most.

A quick win that works in real organizations is writing the ask first, then adding only the support that the ask requires. Starting with background invites you to keep writing, because each sentence creates a new reason to explain another sentence. Starting with the ask forces discipline, because you can immediately see what must be true for the ask to be reasonable. It also exposes when the ask is unclear, overbroad, or missing a deadline, which are the common reasons leaders hesitate. Once the ask is clean, you can add context and key facts without losing the point. This approach also makes review easier, because you can hand the message to a peer and ask a single question, can you tell me what action I am requesting and by when. If they cannot answer quickly, the message is not ready for pressure.

Now consider a scenario where an outage update requires action within thirty minutes. In that moment, people are juggling competing priorities, and they are often receiving multiple updates from different teams with different levels of clarity. The message that wins attention is the one that makes the decision path obvious without sounding chaotic. You lead with what must happen next, why it must happen, and the time window, while keeping emotion out of the writing. The recipient should not have to infer whether the service is degraded or down, whether customers are affected, or whether there is a risk of making the situation worse by waiting. You also want to be careful not to overshare hypotheses, because speculation during an outage can spread faster than facts. A clean decision message is the stable surface everyone can stand on while the technical work continues.

In that same scenario, you often need a one sentence request that leaders can approve immediately. The sentence should contain the decision, the action, and the deadline in a way that is hard to misread. It should be written so that a leader can forward it as is, without adding interpretation, and so that a delegated owner can execute without asking what you meant. The best one sentence requests also signal what success looks like, because approval is easier when the recipient can picture the outcome. If you find yourself adding qualifiers and side conditions, that is a sign the purpose is not single or the ask is not bounded. The discipline here is not about making everything short, it is about making the first sentence sufficient. When the first sentence stands on its own, the rest of the message becomes support rather than a scavenger hunt.

Hold onto a simple memory anchor that you can apply when the pressure spikes, decision first, impact next, deadline always. This is not a slogan for style, it is a checklist for operational reliability. Decision first tells the reader what you are trying to do, which prevents them from projecting their own interpretation onto your update. Impact next tells them why the decision matters in terms they can own, which increases the chance of timely approval. Deadline always turns the message into a time bound commitment, which is essential because unclear timelines create silent failure. When you apply this anchor consistently, your communication becomes predictable, and predictability is calming during stressful events. Teams perform better when they can trust that your messages will be structured, direct, and actionable. Over time, that trust becomes a force multiplier for security and operations.

As a mini review, you should be able to run your own message through a small set of checks without slowing down. Confirm that the purpose is singular and that the decision and ask are obvious in the first lines. Confirm that context is tight, factual, and limited, and that the language does not depend on specialized terms unless they are defined briefly. Confirm that the message is free of filler and that the verbs describe what will happen rather than what might be discussed. Confirm that the ask is something a leader can approve or delegate, and that the deadline is explicit enough to drive action. These checks are not about perfection, they are about removing the failure modes that show up under stress, such as ambiguity, overload, and delayed decisions. When you build this habit, your writing becomes a tool for stability rather than another stream of noise.

To conclude, commit to writing decision first messages under pressure tomorrow, not as a vague intention but as a deliberate practice you can notice in real time. The next time you need approval, coordination, or an operational pivot, pause long enough to lock the single purpose, then state the decision, the ask, and the deadline before you do anything else. Give two sentences of context, translate technical reality into consequence, and cut anything that does not serve the outcome. When you do this, you reduce friction for leaders and you reduce risk for the organization, because action happens faster and misunderstandings shrink. This approach does not make you less technical, it makes your technical insight usable at the exact moment it needs to be used. Over time, your messages will be remembered not because they were elegant, but because they consistently helped people act correctly when it mattered most.