All but impossible to be understood

Today's kindling:

• “Show don’t tell”

• I hate being misunderstood

• The need to put words to things

• What is the end goal of writing?

“Show don’t tell”

I studied Hemingway in college, and admire his writing.

But I did poorly on my assignments to emulate his work.

One thing I remember about Hemingway is that he would not write a sentence like the one I did above:

It’s been hard for me to put my finger on exactly why, but it irks me.

He wouldn’t write it because he didn’t write explicitly about internal things like emotions or motivations. Those things needed to be sensed in his writing based on the action taking place.

It's like a cop-out in writing to just come out and say how you feel.

It strips the experience from the reader. It's basic. It's boring.

A mark of good writing is how much you can communicate implicitly, without being on the nose about it. And it’s something I have a hard time doing!

"Show don't tell" is the most frequent note I received from my professors in college. I still have papers I can look back on and see the red pen marks.

I know the importance of showing instead of telling, and I can edit for these things in other people's writing.

But when it comes to writing about my own life and experience, I am prone to describe my feelings and thoughts.

It feels too risky to leave them open to interpretation.

I hate being misunderstood

I hate being misunderstood.

I go to great lengths to avoid being misunderstood.

I do it in both my writing and conversations alike.

I feel compelled to explain the full backstory, dialogue, actions and feelings that took place if someones asks about a decision I made. It takes me forever to get my point across, or say why something is important to me.

Sometimes, in the car, or at the dinner table, I get bored of my own stories and think, "Just cut to the chase, Jen! You're doing more harm than good here."

Did I always do this? I don't know.

I’ve observed recently that I’m basically preemptively defending myself. Laying out a clear case to justify myself.

But to who? Against what? I have no clue.

I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to just say silent. Or to share a standalone thought, without a forethought explanation of why I think the way I do on that position.

The ironic thing is, the reason I know I hate feeling misunderstood so much is because I am misunderstood so often.

But the catch is - it’s by the same handful of people in my life.

And as I write this, I’m questioning myself if, over time, I’ve changed my communications patterns to try and be understandable to these few people? Have I?! 🤷‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️

I hope not.

It would be so much better to just accept that they won’t, and don’t need, to understand me.

That sounds like psychological freedom!

The need to put words to things

I need to consider at least one alternative explanation for my compulsion to explicitly describe and define my experiences.

Maybe it has to do with my writerly identity — my need to put words to everything I care about.

I used to carry my journal with me everywhere, and fill it with every single observation or thought I had. This was in the heyday of messenger bags, and I didn’t yet have a smart phone, so it was easier to pull out a journal and write than it would be today.

As I type this now, at 11:13pm, interrupted by baby wake ups, I am struck by how much time I used to have. And how completely unaware of it I was.

I think that maybe I use conversations as pseudo-journaling sometimes. I don’t have time to process my thoughts myself, so I just spew them out and see what sticks.

I tell my husband (in great detail) about all the small interactions with my kids, and hope it’s enough to make me remember these days, these precious moments.

I go on and on trying to explain what’s so complicated about being on an extended family vacation while also trying to build a business, in hopes that I might, somehow, in my words, find the solution.

When I talk about the hard parts of motherhood, I discuss it from every angle. I’m really trying to answer the question: Is it something about me that makes this so hard?

I have ideas, and dreams. And when I don’t have time to make progress on them, talking about them feels like a prayer - committing them to God and letting him know I’m trying to listen and follow his guidance.

What is the end goal of writing?

I think that in order to “show don’t tell” well, you really need to know what you want to say. What meaning you are trying to convey to the reader.

I am still trying to figure out what I’m trying to say when I go to write these days.

It’s a mystery where each letter will take me.

I daydream of the luxury of time to work on both key parts of writing - what I’m trying to say, and how I say it. I love the craft of writing, but I rarely get to the part where it feels like craft these days.

I’m jealous that Ernest Hemingway built a career and legacy on his writing.

In today’s world, that feels all but impossible to do.

Writing seems like it is always in service to other goals now — marketing business, building an audience, engagement, etc. — maybe that’s what really bothers me about Hemingway Editor promotion on LinkedIn.

It’s a reminder that writing is a hustle now.

It used to just be the thing. The end goal.

Can I create that scenario for myself in this lifetime?

We’ll see!

I appreciate you! ❤️ 

Warmly,
Jennifer