Sticky Communication

Don’t you hate it when you realize you don’t follow your own advice? Don’t you get frustrated when you figure out what looked good yesterday is actually crap?

That happened to me this week after I’d written  a story about myself, always the trickiest subject, guided by an earlier post on storyteling.

Then a friend sent me a  story she’d drafted about having her best bike  stolen, which she asked me edit. Like most people, she started her story with too much setting, or background.

I revised to start  the true tale with the conflict, realizing her bike had been stolen. I noted what a nightmare this would be for any cyclist, the readers her story was intended for.

Then I added details that would vilify the thief  and clarify the clues the heroes would follow to crack the case.

I was feeling pretty good about what I’d done, until I re-read my own story. I had not led with the conflict, I had not immediately set up readers to  identify with my feelings. I had  included details not needed to  further the plot, develop character or make my point.

Because I intend to use the story as the first chapter of the next edition of Write like  you talk–only better, I need to make the story less about me and more about my reader and why they should read the book, the point of my story. Back to the drawing board.

As a writer, you get used to that. Just don’t let me read any of those silly bloggers who insist you shouldn’t spend too much time on a post. They are idiots–or far more gifted than me or anyone good I know.

Here goes:

Have you ever looked in the mirror and said to yourself: “I can be more than this.”?

That happened to me when I turned 50. Sure, I had reached some of my life objectives, such as amazing kids, a nice house and loyal clients.

But there was more I wanted to do, more I wanted to become. And I only had 50 more years to do it.

It wasn’t about crossing exotic destinations off my bucket list. It was about seeing what I am uniquely capable of accomplishing.

I couldn’t use my kids as an excuse any more. Nor could I blame my stagnation on my parents’ low expectations, my ex-husband’s betrayal, my addictions, sloth, the economy, stupid people or anything else.

It was up to me.

I wanted to help people, but not by holding cold cloths on hot foreheads in refugee camps or mapping seating plans for charity galas.

No, I wanted to help all the poor people who were chained to their computers, cranking out emails, reports, dating profiles and other written communication. What’s more, I wanted to help all the people stuck reading this stuff.

It wasn’t their fault they went on too long, made embarrassing mistakes or were just plain boring.

Many had not been warned about how much of their day would be spent tapping on keyboards. They had not received the memo predicting that suits would be replaced by  business casual or formal style by conversational writing.

And some of the digital kids hadn’t been taught how planning and structure could sharpen their spontaneous chatting, texting and other writing.

My quest to fulfill my potential and help other people pulls together what I’ve learned in these past 50-plus years about writing, grammar, talking, socializing, performing and thinking.

It all started in grade three, the day I first drew lines under some words and brackets around others. I understood the mechanics of language intuitively, as if I possessed mysterious knowledge passed on from the ancestors.

This gave me a way to compete with my younger brother, the smartest kid in the school, county, possibly the country.  Like Brian –or Brain as we called him– I could get perfect scores in English grammar, and later in French and German.

I was also better than my brother at talking. Painfully shy, he would hide in the car when we visited friends. But me, I loved to be the center of attention, chattering incessantly, showing off my ballet twirls.

I also knew I was a better writer, though I saved my best for private diaries and fantasies. Back then, girls couldn’t look too smart.

At university, I stopped my foreign languages studies when I realized how tedious the labs were, long lonely hours answering boring questions and repeating phrases into an eight-track tape recorder.

Also in first year, a history prof loved my debut essay because I analyzed instead of just repeating the chronology. As my new major, however, I chose philosophy because it gave me more time for fun. And it taught me to think.

But I got tired of sliding into hot pants in order to earn a living as a cocktail waitress. I still loved writing. So I took a graduate degree in journalism.

After a brief stint as a reporter, with hours no better than working in bars, I ended up in corporate communication. I loved being at the center of the action, advising executives and politicians on what to say, and helping employees, customers and other people make sense of their rapidly changing world.

I also enjoyed fixing my colleagues’ writing. Just as I had no recollection of the periodic table of elements, most of them simply did not remember those grammar rules. They didn’t know how to use different structures for different goals. Worse still, they had been brainwashed by teachers, professors and bosses into believing reading and writing should be long, formal and never, ever social.

But well before Comment, Like and Follow, I knew that writing to persuade readers and listeners to respond in a certain way was ultimately a social activity. Preparing speeches and scripts confirmed the power of writing like you talk.  Why didn’t they get it?

Just when I thought I’d scream if I had to read one more flat, rambling memo along came the bloggers and other social media people. Many wrote like they talked. They call it a conversation. Finally I could combine my love of grammar, writing, talking, socializing and thinking. I had found my tribe.

My flame reignited, I wrote my book, first as posts on my blog and later as an ebook I sold on my site.

I gave presentations and taught some workshops based on my philosophy of combining the sociability of talking with the thinking of writing. I listened to what readers and other people had to say. I thought. I read. I rewrote the book.

So here I am, one step closer to fulfilling my potential.

I know that some of you are not following your dreams because you haven’t had the training, mentoring or experience to help you connect with people through the written word.

In a world where people communicate so much online, where they need to stand out to be heard, writing is a means to many ends. Connecting to other people this way can help you  look in the mirror and say “Wow!”

So thanks to the bicycle thief for leading me to three pieces of  advice for rewriting stories:
1. Lead with the conflict.
2. Identify immediately with your ideal reader.
3. Get rid of anything that doesn’t move your plot, develop your characters or make your point.

But will I still love it tomorrow?

Thanks to Chris Devers for the photo.