"Everyone's personal theme song is, 'There will never be another me.'" —Thomas D. Murray, advertising executive
An old friend recently told me after reading a magazine article of mine: "I am always surprised at what a good writer you are." He's been reading me for 25 years—most of them apparently spent in the casual assumption that I'm just an okay writer. How could he say a thing like that?
The opposite is just as hard to deal with. A guy once thanked me for coming to his party with a note, "Dave, you're always great." (The implied next sentence being, "At least you have been so far.")
And then there was the boss who, when an employee told him that her uncle had died, said, "Yeah, that seems to be going around."
What I remember about the first professional baseball game I attended was looking out at all those people and trying to grapple with the fact that they each of them was looking out of his or her own head at the rest of us—that every one of these infinite faces was as fully them as I was me.
Of course, I was seven then.
Since then, I have not become any less me. Really, the only way to stop being self-centered is by eating plastic explosives. But I have, for the most part, figured out how to adjust to your insistence on being just as fully you.
Have you?
I don’t think I’ve had enough coffee or something because trying to understand this post gave me a headache.
Seriously, though this addresses a lament I frequently voice, which is that the world has become a planet filled with people who’s sole approach to living seems to be: “It’s all about ME!!!” with resulting behaviours that make that all too clear, to the detriment of our race, I think.
In fact, it deeply depresses me that people’s reactions when I hold a door for the person behind me, or say “excuse me” when I have to step in front of someone in a store aisle, is open-mouthed shock.
The functional problem with everyone being narcissists is that there’s nobody but YOU to appreciate how fabulous you are. If for no other reason than the reciprocation factor, shouldn’t we TRY, at least now and then, to focus on someone else?!
Nah, I didn’t think so. Hey, it was just a thought!
Yes, I realize this item doesn’t read terribly smoothly. That’s because I’m trying to get across narcissism more subtle than strangers in grocery-store aisles.
I’m talking about friends failing to sufficiently see things from their friends’ point of view.
My friend told me he was “always surprised” at my good writing. He meant well. And actually, he knows me as well as anyone in the world. But he STILL failed to see the thing from my perspective, and so he delivered a “compliment” that was ultimately troubling.
This is the kind of self-centeredness we all must guard against every day–especially communicators, who make a living based on their ability to ensure audiences will have the intended reaction to the intended message.
Eh?
Well, as far as that “surprised” comment [which I occasionally get versions of as well from my non-communicator friends] I always go back to this quote, which was an “aha” moment for me the first time I read it:
“In my own experience, nothing is harder for the developing writer than overcoming his anxiety that he is fooling himself and cheating or embarrassing his family and friends. To most people, even those who don’t read much, there is something special and vaguely magical about writing, and it is not easy for them to believe that someone they know – someone quite ordinary in many respects – can really do it.” ~John Gardiner [American novelist]
The very best part about this quote is that it not only explains our friends’ backwards compliments, it also feeds our narcissism – how great is THAT?!
That’s a great quote, Kristen. And he’s really getting at something there when he talks about how ordinary–and when it comes to many things, even stupid–writers are in regular life.
My dad had an enthusiastic following for many years, of readers of his nostalgic articles for car magazine. He hated to do public speaking appearances because he knew, “I can’t give them what they want.”
Except I’d bet, if you’d asked anyone at one of his speaking engagements, they’d have said he DID give them what they were hoping for!
As you’ve said before in this space – writers write. It’s not just what we do, it’s who we are, and how we experience, and make sense of the crazy world we live in.
The way I look at it, if even one person gets something helpful or valuable from my writing then it was worthwhile to throw it out there. If that one person happens to be willing to pay me for my writing, well, hey, that’s just gravy!
There is a physiological imperative to do stuff for yourself — to promote the survival of your own DNA. One great thing about being human is that we can make conscious decisions to act in a specific way. But even that is selfish in that if I give up an immediate benefit to try to create a world that I think is better, all I’m engaging in is delayed gratification. Not selflessness. And there’s some great science out there that you get a nice dopamine hit when you do something for someone else. So maybe pure selflessness is impossible, but there are some real motivators to try.
I actually love that your words take me out of mine… And often yours are better than mine. Until they aren’t. So then I go back to mine.
@Ridley Let’s not talk publicly about pay for writers being “gravy.” Not everything ought to be transparent. Like gravy, for instance.
@Geoffrey Agreed, selflessness doesn’t exist. Noble selfishness is the goal.
@JWah Yes, I think that’s how it’s supposed to work.
I am glad I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand this post.
Ah, can’t win ’em all, Brice. I’ll do better tomorrow.