Me sitting on my Dad's car

Sans Fig Leaf

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"Contextually speaking"

5 April, 2007

I was doing my usual surfing for news and such recently when I came across something someone wrote on a touchy subject. It was generally well-written, quoted a few facts, drew some inferences, stated a strong conclusion, and asked for feedback.

And I didn't know where to begin. Half of the facts weren't really relevent to the issue. A lot of relevent facts were omitted. Since all the missing facts tended to invalidate the conclusion, it's possible they were being purposefully ignored, but based on previous experience it was more likely a case that the person was utterly unaware of them.

The inferences seemed reasonable--to anyone who didn't know about the large number of missing facts and were willing to swallow all the unrelated stuff as somehow being relevent.

It should come as no surprise that the conclusion, while appearing reasonable based on the preceeding material, was utter hogwash.

I started to explain all this, civilly and with specifics. The problem was that to simply explain why half the facts weren't relevent required me typing about 50% more words than the original piece. If I had proceeded to then explain all the overlooked or omitted material, my feedback would have been about four times as long as the original. Which seemed more than a little silly.

I was also reluctant to follow-through with the feedback because no matter how civil I may attempt to be, I would be disagreeing with someone who has stated a strong opinion. People in that situation often become defense and more invested in their state opinion, no matter what evidence is brought to bear.

I say that from experience. I don't just mean the experience of attempting to discuss things with someone who has stated an opinion. I have also done my share of "digging my heels in" when someone has the temerity to point out that I've overlooked something while coming to a conclusion.

Which makes me occasionally worry about the value of these essays. If I'm just blathering out my opinion, and people who have a slightly different take on the same situation are reluctant to say so to avoid an argument, am I actually communicating anything useful?

I don't know the answer to that.

But I can let you in on a secret. More often than not when I start an essay, I don't know where it's going to end up. The act of writing the essay is part of my thinking process. I find myself having a strong reaction to something, but I'm not sure why. So I start trying to explain my feelings, and eventually figure out why I'm having the reaction. Then I have to go back and revise the essay so it makes sense to someone else, which usually means that a lot of the original version is completely deleted and replaced with something that (I hope) makes more sense to someone who doesn't have the misfortune of living in my head.

The whole process is a little weird. I write something, not knowing how it will end, then when I find the "ending" it often becomes the middle of the final essay. Meanwhile, the old beginning is replaced, and a more generalized observation becomes the actual ending.

Maybe that proves I'm crazy. Or maybe all writers work that way. And as I typed that, I realized that those aren't mutually exclusive possibilities. Yeah. All writers are crazy. That's the ticket.

Even though I spend all this time worrying that because no one is disagreeing with me this whole thing is an exercise in futility, I am still shocked and dumbfounded when someone does disagree. Of course, the most recent dissenter was my own husband, so maybe I was just taken by surprise because we are often so strongly in accord, we finish each others' sentences.

Maybe all my essays are like the one that annoyed me. Maybe half my facts are not as relevent as I think they are. And I'm quite sure I either overlook or simply am unaware of lots of facts that are applicable. Given that, no matter how strong my reasoning skills, some of the conclusions I reach have to be wrong.

But that's okay. Perfection is an ideal to aim for, not a state to live in. I like to think that I'm at least descreasing the distance. I think I have discovered a few truths along the way. And it seems that I have been able to help at least some readers articulate some of the truths that they have discovered.

So I'll keep doing this: muddling along week after week. Seeing what turns up as I process another topic and attempt to explain some of that process to you, the patient reader.

I hope that you find it entertaining, if nothing else.

 

The skill of writing is to create a context in which other people can think.
--Edwin Schlossberg

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Copyright © 2006 Gene Breshears. All Rights Reserved.