A Failure to Communicate

I was having a very enjoyable conversation with a friend recently when the subject drifted toward the art of communication. This is something that people very much take for granted, we discussed, but something they never really explore. The prime example came up with the discussion of those moments that seem to be the common denominator in all tense relationships: when there's a breakdown in communication.

We brought up the typical examples of how one person will do something, then expect the other person to derive a specific meaning from that action. The trouble begins when the second party doesn't actually pick up on that meaning, misinterprets it as something else, or otherwise fails to take in what is being put out by the other person. The tension then builds as these misunderstandings compound upon each other, one missed signal leading to another, and each party not really understanding why the other person isn't really responding to them because they are clearly saying something that the other one should know. Great for armchair discussions of why relationships fall apart, but also a significant warning for writers as well.

Usually, a good relationship consists of two parties who are able to express themselves to each other with complete understanding, and take in what the other person says. Now think of that relationship as it relates to a writer and their audience. This is one-directional - the writer puts out their message, builds upon those little cues and hints, and develops a greater discussion that the reader is supposed to ride along with. However, without any feedback, the writer never has any clue if what they are discussing is being taken in, understood, and accepted for exactly what it is supposed to mean. If a writer fails to do this, they lose the reader, and the reader is kind of the most important part of this relationship.

This is why it is so important for writers to get feedback when they are first learning the art of telling a story - particularly stories that are close to them. Feedback is a good check-in to make sure that when a writer pours their heart onto the page, they do it in such a way that the main points are appreciated, the connections are clear, and the stepwise development of the story is done in a way the reader can experience.

Is this really that hard? After all, when I tell a story about something I went through, how could it not be a proper, full explanation of the events? And as for fiction, if I know the story inside and out, then telling that story is a simple process, yes?

A-ha! That's when communication can break down. If I know a story inside and out, it's very easy for me to just assume certain factors. If I tell a story about a friend of mine and say he's always been mad about that time the damn cops arrested him back in 1990, then you get a sense of a person feeling victimized. However, I might have left out that he was caught looting after a disastrous tornado destroyed a nearby down, and those damn cops caught him walking down a destroyed street carrying a television he "found." That bit of information - one that I know by heart and often don't drag out whenever I mention him - is very important information because it really turns that victimization mindset on its ear. If I leave out that information, you might not understand why I learned to steer clear of that guy, and might feel that was a harsh response to someone already feeling victimized. With that information, my motives become much clearer.

With writing and relationships, a little check-in on the details can always go a long way, and feedback can play a big role in developing the art of using details to create the substance of a discussion. And as a side-note, if you are one of those people who loots places after disasters, maybe don't read this blog anymore.