When I was a college freshman, my buddy, Stan, and I were walking across an expanse of green one night outside our dormitory. We were probably on our way to a fraternity party.
I don’t remember what I said, but I do recall what Stan said to me after I held forth on something or other (as college freshman do). Stan stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face me, “Y’know, Scott, it’s not that you’re so brilliant. I’m sorry to say it, but you’re not. But what you CAN do really well is say what other people might be thinking that they’d never think of saying.”
Every now and then, when I stop and think about my skillset as a writer, teacher, collaborator or friend – it’s what Stan said. I’m not any kind of genius, but I can succinctly name what’s one or two layers under our awareness. Another way to put it is: I can name what’s in the room.
I think this is one of the reasons I’m comfortable writing blogs and song lyrics. These short forms appeal to me, in part, because they are short and, usually, to the point.
I remember hating five paragraph essays in elementary school. Why say something in five paragraphs that can be said in one or two sentences? I guess I revel in brevity.
My wife and some of my friends are much better storytellers than I am. They know how to properly and effectively weave a tale that may take ten or more minutes to tell. I, on the other hand, try to think of the fewest words possible to make a point. I would much rather listen and ask questions than talk and answer them.
When we go to a social gathering or go to dinner with friends or family, it’s highly likely that I will want to go home when others are just getting warmed up.
That said, I can spend hours playing and singing or focusing on a project that fascinates me. If I’m interested, I’m in. If not, I’d rather move on.
One last point: the people who go on for forty five minutes or more, sucking out all of the oxygen in a room and ignoring everyone else’s right to speak are…well…
That’s all I have to say.
