Presenting 8 a.m.
Thursday, January 15th, 2009
Anyone sitting near the wall tried not to touch elbows or legs against the radiators while they wrote. No one ever noticed the steam clouding the winter windows, which was a tragedy considering that the most beautiful words often find a way to pens held by new hands and guided by fresh thoughts. Those puffs rising in little tea-kettle smoke signals somehow avoided description in the pieces read aloud to the class.
My first writing classes in college were scenes worth depicting as we’d done so many imaginary scenes – deserted beaches and vacant country fields. On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, our class worked from writing prompts developed on a whim by our professor. While we wrote, he sat on a desk up front and timed us for 10 minutes or sometimes wrote along, but he always seemed to be curious about what we were writing in our private notebooks.
Those sessions took place 10 years ago. Though I don’t know this for sure, I’d guess many of those voices have been silenced by the constant failure and the general difficulty it takes to make a career as a writer.
During the day, I make my way as a public relations executive and trade magazine editor at PlattForm Advertising in Lenexa, Kan. My job involves writing, everyday, so that my job seems more hobby than actual work. This morning, for the first time, I was invited to share what little I know about the writing practice with the Client Services division, a team of about 40 souls who is on the front lines of serving clients in the fast-paced career education industry, day in and day out.
My favorite writers did not believe they have anything to offer fellow writers or anyone hoping to pick it up. They believed they wrote the way they wrote and that to tell anyone about the approach that worked for them was not only a worthless proposition, but somewhat egotistical. “Who am I to tell someone how to write?” I somewhat prescribe to this philosophy, too. I also know I can write better than I can explain how it’s done, so it was with some hesitancy I agreed to lead the group without really knowing exactly what I expected to do or to happen.
I got up at 4 a.m., assembled a word-heavy slide presentation, put on a tie and coached them in the principles of business writing. Given the department’s size, about a quarter of the agency’s employees were in the room, and they didn’t feel confident in their writing abilities. I asked, before I started, who among them considered themselves above average writers. No one raised a hand.
The presentation turned from imparting a few suggestions about writing to encouraging them to believe they could write clearly, even if it wasn’t their greatest interest. We talked about tense, stronger verbs and action words, needless words and phrases. We talked about considering the audience, writing concisely and with clarity, and how e-mail and other business communication that is poorly written can cost companies money.
But more importantly, they learned writing isn’t magic – that it takes commitment and repetition. I told them someone in their lives probably spoiled writing for them. Possibly a heavy-handed English instructor in high school or a professor in college that wrote something derogatory in the margin of a paper they’d written or told them they should never try to write anything again. I’ve seen students belittled for something they’d written in high school. This doesn’t happen in calculus or vocal music or other courses. The teachers generally are more tactful in trying to persuade someone into a different field. Why is that way? I don’t know, but it is.
Based on their reactions, I’d like to think they left with some real excitement for the craft or at least a willingness to try. What a shame it would be to see another great writer – or even someone who enjoys writing greatly – to be lost due to discouragement. You can help employees to write better for business purposes, but no matter the format or the experience level, it always takes soul and courage.
