Trust

I struggle to trust the audience to understand me. Every line of dialogue, every action can be interpreted in so many different ways.

I have developed an inner lawyer, a part of my brain that scans my writing for possible misunderstandings. Let’s say I’ve written a scene about a brother and a sister. The lawyer will raise his hand: “Excuse me? Hank? What if the audience thinks they’re dating?”

So I’ll have the brother say, “Hey, sis!”

Now the lawyer is happy. The scene is clear. The only problem is, most of the people in the audience are rolling their eyes.

Or say I’ve written a joke that only ten percent of the audience will understand. The lawyer wants to replace it with a more popular joke… a less funny joke.

Perfectly clear writing is good for a legal document or an instruction manual, but it’s no good for anything creative.

I write best when I lean into trust. When I trust the audience to make the connection. When I trust the audience to understand what I mean. Will everyone understand? No, but the rest will love my writing all the more (I think).

It’s true in writing and in life: I gotta express myself fully in my own voice, trusting that the right people will like me and the right people will dislike me. Their opinions and interpretations are none of my business. My task is to be honest, not popular.