Writing For Everyone

My creative writing professor used to say: "We don't write about ideas. We write at ideas."

It took me a while to really get what he meant. When you write at ideas, you never quite get there because the topics are ineffable. They transcend language. This is the challenge good writers take.

Although I love creative writing, I also worry that we're not doing enough to teach students hirable skills.

Doing a good job of writing at ideas earns the respect of other writers, editors and publishers. Doing a good job of writing about ideas earns you a paycheck. More people read Buzzfeed than McSweeney's. This is the sad truth.

Until recently, I thought the two styles were mutually exclusive.

I was reading ESPN the Magazine recently. Whenever I love the writing of a particular column, I flip back to see who wrote it. More often than not, it's Tim Keown. I love his writing. Not because his reporting unearths astounding facts or because he uses sabermeterics to explain the success of Mark Buerhle. He just has a great way of making me care about his subjects, which seems so rare in sports writing.

That's when I realized: Tim Keown writes about sports. He writes at humanity.

I think both are necessary even though I think most writers, even successful ones, choose only one. It should be about nourishing your mind and your soul.

Creative Tension and Jedi Mindtrickery

David Brooks wrote an interesting column about creative tension. He opens with an example of the tension between John Lennon and Paul McCartney and how it led to some of The Beatles' best work. This made my ego think: Does David Brooks read my blog. (Of course not. Right?)

Later in the column he mentions how we should strive to hold what Roger Martin calls "the opposable mind — the ability to hold two opposing ideas at the same time."

Everything I know about psychology tells me that the mind does not like this, it will actively work to reduce the dissonance. But I always think of it operating on the subconscious level, never at the conscious level where it will actually provide clarity. Interesting.

I was recently the victim of such dissonance when a salesman Jedi mind-tricked me. The gentleman was giving his pitch about why his windows are the greatest. Before he got to prices, he asked me to complete a brief survey just to evaluate his own performance.

I was asked to grade on a scale of one to five what I thought of the quality of the windows, what I thought of his presentation, and what I thought of him. With the exception of sociopaths, most people are generally nice to guests in their house. He spent a lot of time talking about his windows and I don't want to tell him they're not that great. (I actually still think they're great windows). I was genial and gave him good grades.

When we moved on to pricing, it was out of my range. "Do you think they're worth the money?" he asked. Subconsciously, of course I did. I had already given them a five out of five. I couldn't say I didn't want the windows and consider them great windows at the same time – those are two opposable ideas. Obi Wan Salesman had already set my mind in the path of wanting the windows without even talking about purchasing them.

I got him to come down on the price rather significantly but I still wonder what would have happened if the survey was never a part of his pitch. That one move planted the seed, predisposing me to wanting the windows before I had even made up my mind because I was unable to hold two opposable ideas at the same time: I want to be nice to you vs. I don't want to buy your high-end windows.