Language Gets in the Way of Writing
Because it is meant to be spoken
You have this great idea. You are ready to write. You sit down in your favorite writing spot. Your page is blank. You get ready to write.
And … You CHOKE!
Your breath is stuck in your body. And so are your words. Your page stays blank. Your idea appears broken. It feels like it will never make its way from your head to the page in front of you.
You have writer’s block.
But why?
A lot has been written about the causes of writer’s block, many of which are quite personal (you can look it up on Wikipedia). But there is one cause which I have not seen discussed. And it is a cause we all share.
Language can cause writer’s block.
This might seem counter-intuitive. How can language be the cause of writer’s block? Writing depends on language. It almost feels like writing IS language. So how can language get in the way of writing?
Writing runs counter to our intuitions about how to use language.
To make sense of this, we have to explore what language is.
What is language?
It might sound like a strange question to ask. Language is an essential part of our daily lives. So we are tempted to think we know what it is. But once you try to define it, you quickly notice that it’s not a straightforward task at all. Try to ask people any of the following questions.
Is music language? Or mathematics? Do animals have language? Or newborn babies?
If it were so obvious what language is, we would not expect people to give different answers. But they do. You can try it out by asking around.
This is where linguistics comes in. Linguists distinguish between two notions of language. One is perhaps closest to the common use of language: English, French, Korean, Arabic — these are among the approximately 7000 languages that people currently speak (and write) on our planet.
But this is not the notion of language I have in mind. It is not any particular language (like English, French, Korean, or Arabic) that gets in the way of writing. It is the human capacity for language. There is only one language capacity that underlies all of the 7000 human languages.
It is this unique capacity that sets us apart from animals. Animals have ways to communicate — and maybe you want to call these systems of communication language, as well. But the point is that their systems of communication differ significantly from any of the 7000 human languages. Animals do not have the same language capacity as humans do. So no matter how many years you talk to your dog, and no matter how many commands he might understand, your dog will never understand everything you could possibly say to him, nor will he ever speak back to you in your language.
In this way, your dog differs significantly from any child. No matter which of the 7000 languages a child is exposed to growing up, it will end up speaking that language. As a result of acquiring that language, it will be able to understand pretty much everything you could possibly say to it — provided the content is within the limits of its cognitive development. And, unlike your dog, a child will speak back to you in your language. It only takes a few years.
This difference between dogs and children is rooted in the fact that a dog’s capacity for communication differs from a human’s capacity for language.
And it is this capacity for language that I have in mind when I say language gets in the way of writing. It is because of a simple fact.
Language is meant to be spoken
Researchers do not agree on when, how, or why language evolved. What is clear, however, is that the original medium for language was not writing. Language evolved in its spoken form. Writing systems developed much later than the languages they encode.
Still, this historical fact does not automatically make language a potential cause of writer’s block. What is responsible is the fact that our language capacity is hardwired to be transmitted in spoken interactions with others. (I include interactions in sign languages under this general umbrella of “spoken interaction”.)
There are several reasons to think that spoken interactions are at the very core of language. Here are two.
Children have conversations before they have words
Many of the features that define spoken interactions are in place long before the words that make sentences are. Consider these two toddlers having a perfectly well-formed conversation. Though it is impossible to put it in writing.
They take turns talking in ways that perfectly mirror adult conversations. Turn-taking is an astounding linguistic capacity precisely because it works so meticulously and smoothly. The typical pause between turns in a conversation is 200ms. (There is a fascinating science behind it).
Just how precise and fine-tuned turn-taking in human conversations is becomes clear when it does not work smoothly. You have probably experienced the turn-taking awkwardness in Zoom meetings. You start talking at the same time with one or more of your zoom conversationalists. And this results in immediate silence. Or you all tell each other to go ahead.
In video conferencing, turn-taking is disturbed for two reasons. First, there is a slight time-lapse in the video. It is almost unnoticeable to our conscious awareness. But it is very noticeable for our unconscious ability to take turns.
Second, turn-taking is not simply a matter of waiting till the person you are talking to stops talking. They prepare us (unconsciously) through their gestures, their eye-gaze, and their intonation.
This is precisely what the babies in the video already do perfectly. Nobody taught them this skill. They just have it. It is part of their language capacity. Once they have words, the ideas they want to convey can latch onto this intricate back-and-forth orchestrated by the interactional roots of their language capacity. It does not take long before they are near fluent conversationalists, as you can witness here.
The reason this kid (his name is Noah) went viral was not just because of his conversational skills. Though impressive, they would not suffice to make him unique. He went viral because of his frequent and somewhat unusual use of “apparently.” Here is an example.
“And apparently I already went down the super slide!”
It is clear from the rest of the conversation that Noah did go down the super slide. An adult speaker of English will not use apparently if they knew firsthand that what they are saying is true. Adults use apparently if they have indirect evidence only, but not if they have directly experienced going down the super slide. So from an adult perspective, Noah sounds like he is not sure if he was on that ride, but at the same time, he makes it very clear that he is in fact sure. And this sounds so extraordinary that it got him the nickname “apparently kid”.
And this brings me to the other reason for thinking that spoken interaction is at the very core of our capacity for language — the one that gets in the way of writing.
We synchronize our minds without knowing that we do
Consider again what Noah does. He marks just about every sentence with “apparently” as if he does not have direct evidence for any of what he is saying. Adults do this so they can say things they do not have direct evidence for.
Based on what I know about the use of such evidence markers in adults on the one hand and based on what I know about language acquisition, here is what I think. While adults use “apparently” to mark that they don’t have direct evidence, Noah marks that the reporter has no direct evidence.
This happens in adult language as well, just not with apparently. It underlies the difference between using “the super slide” and “a super slide”. Using “the super slide” marks that both the speaker and the listener know the super slide he is talking about. Using “a super slide” marks that only the speaker knows the super slide.
This is evidence that in spoken interaction, we keep track of who knows what. And language has words, like “the” and “a” that are specialized to do just that: They mark what is in the common ground and what is not. This is not really surprising, when you consider that language in interaction is all about constructing a common ground. So we need words that help us do that.
The construction of common ground is another amazing linguistic capacity, precisely because it is so automatic. We do not have to think about it. We just do it. In a matter of a few words, Noah has synchronized his mind with the mind of the reporter.
This is the magic of language. It allows us to listen to the minds of others — which is as close as we can get to mind-reading. But this is precisely the point: It is mind-listening, not mind-reading. The mind does not write!
So language is all set up for being spoken. We are hard-wired to use language to synchronize our minds and to take turns in the process. It is this very core of the capacity for language which gets in the way of writing.
No listener can block your writing
One of the reasons for writer’s block is that we cannot but adjust our language to the listeners we face. When we write, the listener is absent. They are anonymous.
We do not have common ground with them. We do not know how to enter whatever potential common ground there might be.
We do not take turns with anyone. We do not receive the immediate feedback we need to keep talking (or writing).
We cannot anchor our ideas to the minds of others. We are writing into the abyss.
Unblock your writing
But there is a simple way to unblock writing when it is caused by the interactive nature of language.
Speak!
Since language cannot get out of the way of writing, writing has to get out of the way of language!
Whatever it is you want to write about, tell someone about it first. Pick a listener. And if you don't have one right there with you, imagine a listener. Someone who you think should read your writing.
Record yourself while you tell your story to your listener, real or imaginary. This will be your first draft, however scattered and messy. But your page is no longer blank.
Your idea is out, and you can start the (re-)writing process. Now you can worry about writing eloquently.
So, next time you have writer’s block, start writing by using spoken language. It is the medium in which your ideas are meant to be conveyed to others.
