On Talking and Writing
We all have something to say,
and we all wish to be understood.
Artists,
across all mediums and modalities of communication,
are attempting to express the ineffable.
… it’s hard.
You don’t have to be a Wittgenstein scholar to know
words have subjective interpretations,
and individuals have many layers of context and meaning.
The goal of expression,
at least in the context of direct communication,
is to ascertain truth,
and share a sentiment with another,
such that they, too, can feel this same sentiment.
…It’s easier to do this in person.
… It’s easier to talk than to write.
Especially in our world of fragmented communication technologies,
where we jump from email to text to snapchat in three-and-a-half swipes,
understanding context is critical.
You’re state of mind influences what you perceive,
what you’re open to,
what you understand.
… Where are you right now?
Are you listening to music?
or do you hear the wind blowing outside?
(or maybe you’re outside reading this on your phone?)
Is it day? Is it night? Is it raining?
…Fuck, there’s so many variables.
Google: “how much of communication is nonverbal”
…These studies led to a formula to describe how the mind determines meaning… concluded the interpretation of a message is 7 percent verbal, 38 percent vocal and 55 percent visual. The conclusion was that 93 percent of communication is “nonverbal” in nature.
So we’re already playing from behind.
On the margins,
dabbling with 7 percent (!).
The medium is not the message
as much as the medium acts as buffer
or intermediary
between your message and its recipient.
When we’re in person together,
chatting, shooting the breeze,
expression feels more natural,
more free-flowing and open to our integrated neural circuitry.
The listener perceives body language,
intonation, posture, eye movement,
and a litany of other unconscious elements,
as she digests words into nutrients.
Talking in person,
we’re able to juxtapose subjects more fluidly.
Tangents feel less out of place.
We can be both colloquial and cerebral,
without risking a reader’s misinterpretation.
And yet,
while talking is great,
writing is where deep thinking happens.
Where we refine what we say,
where we listen to ourselves think,
and then think about our own thinking.
To be a good talker,
we must first become a great listener.
To be a good writer,
we must first become a great reader,
and then we must become our own greatest editor.
Constantly refining our message,
in both form and function,
content and context.
And then we must dwell in the silence;
in the listening,
to others,
to ourselves,
to the birds (not tweets),
and then make music with words (or beats).
To express the ineffable —
even if we don’t fully capture it
quite yet,
keep trying —
it’s a worthy pursuit.
