Writing is a funny thing
An odd duck, as an everyday tool, or as an art form. Writing for print is the most open to misinterpretation. I have written for TV and radio, and what may be insufficient in the words can be conveyed with the voice, or facial expression or body language.
Among the many things we are taught in school that turn out to be off the mark, is that English is the most expressive, most articulate of the world’s many languages. I wonder if French, Japanese, Swahili and Norwegian kids are taught the same thing about their languages? A little research reveals that linguists are reluctant to award the top prize to any language (though Arabic, English and ancient Greek are favored). The consensus seems to be that while some languages have an advantage in some areas of description – Arabic has 400 words for “lion” (and 300 for “sword”) – an educated speaker of almost any language can get the meaning across accurately, even precisely. English probably has the most words, more than a million… and the most curse words. There is an argument that Arabic and Mandarin are the most difficult languages for a native English speaker to learn.
Like most lazy Americans, I speak and write only one language. Although some of my readers might dispute even that claim. Four years of forced Latin in a Catholic high school is sometimes useful for figuring out unfamiliar English words, because Latin is the root of many, but I can’t order off an Italian menu any better than you. I have been fascinated with those English words and phrases since I was a kid, using them mostly in print, and all those years have taught me a few things.
Most people don’t read, or listen
They think they do. But there seems to be a built-in propensity to hear or read a few words and then let the mind race off on what they think is coming next, but usually isn’t. The other factor is that while we are all using the same (million) words, we often have very different definitions of them. And, since most people think they are good listeners… if someone says, you just said that, and the other person insists, no I didn’t, they are both certain they are right. And almost everyone thinks they are a good writer.
I know, I’m getting into the word weeds here, but for a reason. A writer needs to understand these widespread human weaknesses for taking in what you have written, and adjust for them. If you want to be understood by the most people, and aren’t just writing for the “art” of it. (Which is fine.)
It’s the reason, for example, that MSNBC’s Rachel Maddow (smart, educated, Stanford, etc) repeats her points, rephrases them, then doubles back and throws them out there again, slightly reworked. She goes one up on the standard wisdom of “tell them what you are going to tell them, tell them, then tell them what you told them.” I’ve heard her say she does that so her viewers can really get it, and accurately repeat to someone else what they heard. If you say it clearly and people nod their heads, they still might not be able to explain it the next day.
You can do that
In an hour long TV broadcast. If you try that in print you will have such a sea of grey (type) that few will even dip their toe in. It’s why I have always admired great writers so much, and long ago made peace with not being in those elevated ranks. Maybe, if I live another three quarters of a century, and pray to Mark Twain… Of all his great wisdoms, probably my favorite is, of course, short and to the point: At the conclusion of a long letter to a friend, he apologized and wrote, “If I had had more time I would have written you a shorter letter.” Except, like a lot of pithy sayings attributed to the great Sam Clemens, he may not have written that, ever, and if he did he stole it from 17th century French philosopher Blaise Pascal. But it does sound like him, doesn’t it?
I guess the point of all this is, in my 12+ years of writing my Curious City column for the Daily Press, I have readers who think I’m a courageous speaker of truth to power, and others who think I’m a naive, lying character assassin. As with most things, the truth probably lies somewhere in between.
My truth is
I don’t hate anyone. Not even the Orange Oppressor, someone I have sympathy for as a terribly sick human, and I don’t want him anywhere near the White House. I do hate some things that have been done to harm our beautiful city, nation, planet. and I want to stop the pain and take a more positive, healthy, loving path. Those harmful actions are, of course, perpetrated by individuals and groups, and in shining light on secrets and condemning actions, some may think they are being personally attacked. I never mean to attack any individuals. I am responsible for my language, but there is no controlling how someone perceives something. And perception is everything, isn’t it?
This is the nature of politics. We have different visions, and perceptions. I believe passionately in democracy, as being the way of governing that is most fair to all. But we are discovering that many Americans, and many Santa Monicans, do not believe in democracy. They believe only in winning, by any means necessary, so their ideas will dominate the majority. But there’s the rub. Determination of that majority, by vote, is sometimes tilted and tainted in serious ways. In DC, and in SM. It is the duty of journalists to expose that hidden wrongdoing, but there is no need to vilify the participants. But because of the strange nature of the printed word, as I discussed above, that is often difficult. The best things in life are usually difficult.
I don’t think I’m that worst nightmare you may feel I am, nor am I your knight in shining armor. It’s obvious we can get more done by working together on the things we agree on, than just sniping. For my part, in my next Curious City column, having become weary of “complaining,” I will try to list all the things I stand for, and maybe, just maybe, that can put a different paddle in the stream.
“When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.”
Jimi Hendrix
Charles Andrews has lived in Santa Monica for 38 years and wouldn’t live anywhere else.