How self-referential is your writing?

There is someone I know, and he's not anyone you know, so don't worry, I'm not talking about h2g2ers. This person has a reason to speak in public on a regular basis. His talks are fine – or would be, in my opinion, if they weren't too long by 10-15 minutes. I think I know why, too.

This speaker invariably spends the first 10-15 minutes of every talk explaining to the audience, in great detail, just how he came to choose his topic, and describing the personal experience that made the insights he's about to share important to him. I can't help thinking that, if he'd leave that bit out, his talk would be much more interesting and inspiring.

It is important when writing, speaking, or just telling an anecdote to two friends in a pub, not to be so darn self-referential. At least pretend to notice the audience out there.

A lady I am related to by marriage both amused and alarmed me one day. I had called her house, and received no answer. When I called again the next day, she explained that she'd been in hospital.

'Oh, no!' I said. 'What happened? Are you okay?'

Her answer, 'Well, yesterday morning, I was making pancakes for breakfast. And you know how much I like syrup. Well, the syrup bottle was empty, don't you hate it when that happens, and the pancakes are getting cold? So I headed out to the garage, that's where the extra supplies are stored, you remember my nephew put in all those shelves? They're really handy for keeping things like that, only not stuff that will freeze in cold weather, well, anyway, there are those two steps that go down to the garage from the kitchen, and I've always said we needed to fix them, and. . . '

There was absolutely nothing to do but sit there on the other end of the phone line and wait this out. Eventually she got to the part where she fainted, slipped on the steps, cut her head, and bled. The emergency services had to be called, but the injury was fairly minor. On the other hand, the doctor wanted tests. . .

Now you will notice two things about that anecdote:

• It illustrates exactly how frustrating it is when a self-referential speaker 'buries the lead' like that.
• It shows you how to handle a personalised story without committing tmi.

You don't want or need to know who that lady was. But to tell you the story, I have to put myself in it, at least to the extent of dialing a telephone and asking a question. Then, mercifully, I can bow out and let her get on with it. That is definitely what you want to do when you tell a story that happened to you.

I'm not saying that you shouldn't be self-revelatory in your narratives. Be my guest. You will, anyway: everything you tell about other people reveals something about you, at least indirectly. For instance, you now know that when I listen to a public speaker, I'm privately critiquing that speaker's technique. I can't help it. I'm not trying to be mean, I'm just an incurable analyst. And even while I'm listening to a friend or relative's concerns – and being concerned myself – I can't help noticing that the way they're telling me the news is counterproductive to the task at hand. You may now regard me with amused contempt. I wouldn't blame you.

Academics are like that: a German professor I knew was lecturing on Tristan. He got to a particularly weird character in that epic, a guy who had some sort of vow going, and couldn't ever let go of his musical instrument, a sort of lyre called a 'rote'. The prof stopped, squinted in memory, and said, 'This character reminds me of the guards in the POW camp where the Americans locked us up in 1945. They were never allowed to put down their rifles, even if they were eating or drinking. I'd always think of Tristan when I saw this.' Now, that tells you a lot about the professor: what happened to him during the war, and where his mind was. (Absent, mostly.) I found him unimaginably endearing. Maybe you'd feel differently, I dunno. Tell me your anecdote, and I might be able to guess.

What's the best way to begin an essay, a story, or a talk? Tell something your readers or listeners want to hear. Don't talk about you. Talk about them. Why in the world would they want to know what you want to tell? Figure that out, and you're halfway there.

Of course you're writing from your own experience. Whose experience do you have to share, if not your own? But keep in mind, even though the story may have you in it, it isn't about you. It's about all of us: what we do, what we know and don't know, how we react, emote, learn, make fools of ourselves, think about mediaeval epics when we're supposed to be worrying about losing World War II. . . you see what I mean.

Your personal stories make your writing realer. Your readers can identify. Don't worry, they're on your side. Even the public speaker I mentioned at the outset has audiences that are loyal to him. They wait patiently for him to get to the point, and they laugh at his jokes. Never be afraid to share. But always be aware of the way you're telling the tale. Eliminate unnecessary personal baggage from your narrative. Concentrate on what the reader will take away.

Oh, and go back and reread Sophie's Choice by William Styron. It's a fascinating interweaving of fact and fiction based on the author's personal experience. Most readers remember the agonising story of Sophie and her choice. Or the tension between Sophie and her lover. Me? I treasure the stories Styron tells about his early career as a book reader for McGraw Hill publishers. It's true: he really did tell his boss to pass up Kon-Tiki, and it became a bestseller for someone else. . .

I know: I've just told you what a nerd I am, yet again. Keep the stories coming!

Writing Right with Dmitri Archive

Dmitri Gheorgheni

21.11.16 Front Page

Back Issue Page