V40 N3 / 2025 

©2025 American Medical Writers Association. All rights reserved.  
ISSN 2163-5315

AMWAJournal.org     3

(Re)Discovering the Necessity of Craft in Health Communication

FROM THE GUEST EDITOR 

Ben Riggs / Content Manager, Kettering Health, Dayton, OH

As I write this in May, the tumult of public life has challenged 
even those who typically reach for the assurance of “this too 
shall pass.” It will. But what will we find there? That answer, 
of course, is being worked out—in classrooms, boardrooms, 
examination rooms, courtrooms, and kitchens.
 As health communicators, our work to bring clarity to 
complexity, to connect evidence with empathy, has never 
felt more essential or exposed. Between the still-unfolding 
dilemmas around the use of generative artificial intelligence 
(AI), dwindling grant funding, and the shifting presence of 
trusted authorities in public health, we find ourselves rafting 
through turbulent waters.
 Talking about craft, I admit, might seem like a luxury.  
But in truth, it is a lifeline. Craft—the intuitive, skilled deci-
sions that lead to clear, effective communication—is what 
holds when everything else shifts. It helps the public navi-
gate the whitewater of disinformation, fragmented care, and 
confusion. It steadies them long enough to understand, to 
choose, to act. It earns back trust. And trust, right now, is 
endangered.
 For decades, we operated in a shared public square—
imperfect, yes, but functional. Experts were trusted. 
Guidelines were followed. Institutions held weight. Today, 
that square is fractured and noisy. The voices that people 
once leaned on are now just one among thousands. And 
because information moves faster than understanding, the 
public is left adrift, trying to make confident decisions in a 
sea of contradiction and noise.
 This issue of the AMWA Journal arrives at a moment when 
craft is more than a professional virtue—it is a moral neces-
sity. Clear, thoughtful communication is essential to serv-
ing the public interest and supporting the public in making 
informed health decisions for themselves and their families. 
Whether someone is considering a treatment, enrolling in a 
clinical trial, or caring for a loved one, the way we craft words 
and images shapes those choices not just in clinical settings, 
but across the full spectrum of health literacy.
 In this issue, you’ll find themed articles looking at ethics 
and use cases for generative AI in developing images, the 
role and vulnerabilities of readability tools, and the place of 
metaphor in health communication, backdropped by the 
primacy of craft in health communication. This issue, I hope, 

also offers a reminder that writ-
ing is not merely a conveyance  
of facts.
 Every paragraph we write 
contains a small social contract 
between communicator and 
audience, between subject-mat-
ter experts and laypersons, or 
between a system and someone 
trying to survive within it. We uphold those contracts with 
the decisions we make not just as researchers and experts, 
but as practitioners. As those responsible for choosing the 
right words in the right order for the right audience, when  
we uphold that contract with humility, accuracy, and empa-
thy, we help the public move forward even amid the noise, 
even when trust is scarce.
 But we cannot extend clarity to others unless we culti-
vate it ourselves. That begins with our commitment to craft, 
not just a commitment to accuracy nor to correct grammar. 
True craft—the slow and principled work of listening, distill-
ing, shaping, and refining, choosing structure with intention, 
translating complexity without flattening truth.
 Yes, we use tools. Yes, we adapt to platforms. But craft is 
what makes us trustworthy in a landscape that desperately 
needs people who still care about getting it right.
When we’re tempted to shrink back or to wait for stability 
to return before we write bravely again, let this serve as a 
reminder: the public doesn’t have that luxury. Health deci-
sions don’t pause until the world calms down. And so, our 
work—sometimes invisible, often unglamorous—becomes 
all the more vital.
 Keep refining your skill. Keep sharpening your ear for 
plain language. Keep advocating for transparency when 
others are hedging. This is how we meet the moment—not 
with panic or passivity, but with purpose.
 In all the noise, people still want to understand. That’s 
still our job. And it still matters—for this too shall pass.

Author declaration and disclosures: The author notes no  
commercial associations that may pose a conflict of interest in 
relation to this article.

Author contact: ben.riggs@ketteringhealth.org

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