Writing with humility
One of the hardest things to learn about writing is how to see your own work not as the writer but as the reader—the person taking in your thoughts expressed as words, the person who does not necessarily know what you do, who is unconsciously expecting you to lead them through an idea. Many good writers with keen minds and excellent command of language still struggle to span the gap between what they and their readers think and believe. It’s like the emperor’s new clothes. The writer believes they have said one thing yet cannot see the basic error—usually of ambiguity—that they have made. Many of these writers depend on trusted editors (speaking of tough jobs) to help them bridge the divide. In journalism, fiction and non-fiction, these editors make or at least point out the changes (sometimes major) needed to ensure clarity.
Those of us who can’t count on such an editor must learn the skill ourselves. It’s been one of the most difficult aspects of writing for me, and to this day I can’t say I do it as well as I should or would like. The skill is akin to that required for proofreading—the ability to ignore where the words and ideas come from and focus only on what they say. As a writer, it can feel like cleaving yourself in two, assuming a dual personality. Perhaps that’s not so far from the truth: you’re the writer, and to ensure you’re being heard, you read with the eyes of those you are trying to reach.
This is a main lesson of Communications 101: know your audience—your reader. It’s not simply about who they are, how old they are, where they live, how much money they make; it’s often eerily about being able to slip into their skin and lived experience—an intrusion in a noble cause.
One of the important steps in overcoming the writer’s inability to read into their own work is being open to having weaknesses revealed. When a colleague or editor—or critic—points out how you have lost touch with your reader, the wise response is to marvel at and learn from the insight need to spot it. This is the humility that is forever demanded of writers. No one monopolizes understanding—even of our own ideas.
