Writing is Life-Long Learning

It’s not the money or the prestige. (Best read with irony.) I teach adults. I create the courses, and each time a class starts, I feel a surge of possibility.

Writing is a lifelong effort. No class can teach someone how to be a good writer in one day–the length of most of my business writing classes. I create tools that the participants can use to create simple, clear communication. But unless they use the tools, practice with them till the heft and force of the tools cuts out fatty words from sentences and strengthens the muscle, their writing won’t improve.  Armed with the tools, participants have to figure out how to use them for their own purposes, how to hone them, how to make them work when the going gets tough. Writing doesn’t happen in a vacuum. Many of the people I teach how to write have supervisors who know little about writing, but insist that good writing is doing it the way the supervisor has done it for years. “Pick your battles,” I say, knowing that a good writer can easily be swatted down by a threatened supervisor.

In the classroom they have permission to be good writers. Once they have tools, anything is possible. Here’s what I love most: students learning from each other. Seeing an “Aha!” travel around the room. It almost always happens student to student, a special connection that works when one student “gets it” and manages to express it so someone else catches the idea.

“Education” comes from the Latin word “educare.” It means “to pull out of,” rather than “to stuff into.” And it works every time.

–Quinn McDonald is a seminar leader and instructional designer. She teaches journal-writing courses and business courses.

Be Heard

We want people to listen to us. We want to be understood. We want to be seen and appreciated as our best selves. Why doesn’t it happen? What goes wrong?

To be heard, you have to speak in a way your intended audience can hear. If your audience doesn’t understand, most likely you are not connecting. Not using the metaphors, vocabulary and logic they can understand.

Why can’t we just be ourselves? Because if we ask our audience to work too hard–to go out of their normal train of thought, to veer off into a new way of thinking–they won’t. They’ll do what they always do and skip to a conclusion they are comfortable with, rather than work at coming to a new conclusion. Because audiences do what’s easiest for them.

If you want your cats to hear you, open a can of cat food. It’s a sound they are familiar with, one that leads to a reward–food. So they listen. If you want a colleague to listen to your ideas, you will have to explain it in a way she can understand each part. Is she a big-picture person? Start with the overall outcome, then move to details? Is she a process person? Start with how this project will work, then go to results. Is she a micro-manager? Start with some details, then grow the vision into a big picture.

What if you don’t know what kind of person your colleague is? Ask. Going for clarity always makes it easier to understand. “Would it be more helpful if I start with the big picture?” is a question that asks for help. You might want to give your listener a choice. “Which is more helpful, starting with a big picture or starting at details and building to the big picture?” Most people know what makes sense for them, and will be pleased you asked. They will then be ready to listen to you.

Sure, it’s easier to explain it the way you like best. But that won’t get you heard. Because being heard comes after being a good listener.

–(c) 2008. All rights reserved. Quinn McDonald writes about communication topics and runs workshops on business communications. She is also a certified creativity coach. See her work at QuinnCreative.com

Creativity: Like Riding a Bike. . .

Note: Another in an occasional series on the link between riding a motorcycle and creativity.

Suzie Lighting is back in Virginia. The Suze is my motorcycle, named for the Warren Zevon song. There’s a line that says, “Suzie Lightning takes no prisoners. . .she lights up the sky and then she’s gone.” The first time I got on the bike, I was in heavy traffic on a new bike, driving carefully, watching out for the big SUVs that, combined with a driver on a cell phone, are deadly.

Waiting for a light to turn, I noticed the driver next to me texting on a cell phone. When the light turned, I checked the intersection and accelerated. The larger bike’s clutch caught quickly and earlier than the older one and I shot away from the cars on my left and right. By the next intersection, the bike had a name. . . Suzie Lightning.

But the Suze is back in Virginia, and I’m in Arizona. I’ll be heading back to Virginia this weekend to run some business communication classes. It will be December when I arrive, and I may not be able to ride. There are limits to what I will do to ride. Then again, at this moment, it’s 10 degrees colder here than back East.

Here’s something that’s true about riding a bike: even if you haven’t been on it for a while, by the time it warms up and I back it out of the driveway, it’ll feel comfortable.  I’ll stay in the neighborhood until I turn a few corners, and then I’ll feel comfortable.

While I’m waiting for the house to sell, I’m also without full art equipment. I bought $50 worth of supplies last week, and began to play around. And just like riding the bike, I had to stay in the familiar for a bit, and then I could take off and go new places.

Your creativity won’t desert you. The muse might go shopping, or take a nap, but your creativity won’t dry up. If you’ve been away from it for a while, you’ll let it idle and listen to the engine warm up, but you’ll feel comfortable and familiar again. In fact, after that first warm up, you might decide to go down a different road and see some new scenery.

And as you dive into your creativity, my wish for you is that you light up the sky with your own light. Take no prisoners. Warren would be proud of you.

–Quinn McDonald writes and teaches communication seminars. She rides a Honda Shadow, 750 cc, shaft drive. See her work at Quinncreative.com (c) Quinn McDonald 2007. All rights reserved.