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For someone who claims to be a writer...
Jul. 22nd, 2008 10:54 pmI'm a lousy communicator. Especially as of late. You would think that my silence is just the usual not getting around to posting something, but it's not.
I can't seem to tell people what it is I want to say. Worse, it seems that I can't even *hear* what people are saying to me. At work or in writing or even on a couple of newsgroups, I seem to be getting it all wrong. "Boy that's a great idea," the discussion goes, "if only someone who could write/express themselves clearly would do it." I'm either too slow or too impatient. If I go with what I think they are talking about, I get nailed for making assumptions or I'm seen as disinterested. If I ask questions, I'm told to just be patient or to stop being rude to people who are just trying to share some ideas. If it were just online I'd chalk it up to the vagaries of the internet, but it's not.
Right now I find myself living by the credo "Better to remain silent and thought a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt". I was trying to explain my feelings on this matter to a friend (and once failing miserably) and she said I shouldn't care what other people think. I thought about that. I really wondered if the reason I don't say things is because I'm afraid what other people will think of me. But that's not the problem. As long as I believe in what I'm saying/writing/doing I really don't care what others think of me. You want to think me an idiot go ahead. What I hate is *being* that idiot.
What I hate is being faced with the unavoidable truth that I'm too dumb or uneducated or unworldly to understand what people are trying to say to me. That I can't express myself in manner that interests people.
I don't know. It may just be a run of bad luck and a virulent strain of pessimism that has me in it's hold. But lately I've been thinking about how many people I like and respect who no longer have an interest in reading what I write. Thinking about how many times I've opened my mouth and proved my idiocy by asking them to do so only to have them beg off because they'd rather no tell the truth. Thinking about how reluctant I am to ask new people -- people whom I like and respect -- to read what I write because I'd rather have my friends not read my stuff because I don't ask, then not read it because it's crap.
Mostly I find that I can no longer truly decide how much of all of this is insecurity and how much is truth. And I hate that.
I can't seem to tell people what it is I want to say. Worse, it seems that I can't even *hear* what people are saying to me. At work or in writing or even on a couple of newsgroups, I seem to be getting it all wrong. "Boy that's a great idea," the discussion goes, "if only someone who could write/express themselves clearly would do it." I'm either too slow or too impatient. If I go with what I think they are talking about, I get nailed for making assumptions or I'm seen as disinterested. If I ask questions, I'm told to just be patient or to stop being rude to people who are just trying to share some ideas. If it were just online I'd chalk it up to the vagaries of the internet, but it's not.
Right now I find myself living by the credo "Better to remain silent and thought a fool than open your mouth and remove all doubt". I was trying to explain my feelings on this matter to a friend (and once failing miserably) and she said I shouldn't care what other people think. I thought about that. I really wondered if the reason I don't say things is because I'm afraid what other people will think of me. But that's not the problem. As long as I believe in what I'm saying/writing/doing I really don't care what others think of me. You want to think me an idiot go ahead. What I hate is *being* that idiot.
What I hate is being faced with the unavoidable truth that I'm too dumb or uneducated or unworldly to understand what people are trying to say to me. That I can't express myself in manner that interests people.
I don't know. It may just be a run of bad luck and a virulent strain of pessimism that has me in it's hold. But lately I've been thinking about how many people I like and respect who no longer have an interest in reading what I write. Thinking about how many times I've opened my mouth and proved my idiocy by asking them to do so only to have them beg off because they'd rather no tell the truth. Thinking about how reluctant I am to ask new people -- people whom I like and respect -- to read what I write because I'd rather have my friends not read my stuff because I don't ask, then not read it because it's crap.
Mostly I find that I can no longer truly decide how much of all of this is insecurity and how much is truth. And I hate that.
