Back to Basics: “If there is any possible way for readers to misread or misinterpret what you write, they will.”

 

I’ve heard that people misunderstand about 80% of our communication.

 

Did you know?

 

“It has long been a guiding principle of writing that,

if there is any possible way for readers

to misinterpret what you write, they will.

The purpose of laborious and tedious editing

is to make the writing so precise

that it cannot be misread and misinterpreted.”

(Kendall Haven)

 

Consider this oh-so-true statement:

 

“I know you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize

that what you heard is not what I meant.”

(Attributed to Robert McCloskey, U.S. State Department)

 

So what are you, a memoirist, to do about that?

 

I offer you the following tips:

 

After you’ve written a vignette—or two or three or ten—set your work aside for a few days (or even weeks).

 

Later, print your manuscript. Reading on a computer screen is different from reading it on paper. I can’t explain why that is true, but it is. I always catch boo-boos on paper that I miss on the computer screen.

 

With printout and pen in hand, read your piece. You’ll be surprised how objective you can be after stepping back for a while. Make notes to yourself about changes to make.

 

Next, make those revisions, keeping in mind that every good writer revises his or her manuscript a number of times.

 

Set aside your manuscript again for a few days. Then print it and read it aloud (or use the Read-Aloud function on your computer). Your ears alert you to what your eyes missed. Repeat this as often as necessary until you’re satisfied.

 

Put yourself in your readers’ shoes and, for their sake, clarify. Simplify.

 

Before you can do that,

you might need to ask,

“What am I trying to say?

What’s my point?”

 

Have you included lingo (Christianese, for example) or unfamiliar language (foreign or technical, for example) that your readers might not grasp?

 

When you’ve pinned all that down, ask yourself, “Will readers understand what I’m trying to  convey?”

 

Here’s good advice from Jesse Hines: 

 

“Use the language your readers will clearly understand. . . .

Don’t confuse your prose’s clarity

by using jargon or stilted ‘intelligent’ words. . . .

Remember, simple, short, and clear.”

 

Reword everything that could cause confusion.

 

If you don’t already belong to a good writers’ group, I highly recommend you join one. Other writers usually offer excellent feedback.

 

Most of all, have fun polishing your rough drafts. Revision is an art: Make your story beautiful.

 

Remember, stories can change individuals,

families, communities, towns, nations

—even the world.

 

Memoirs can change lives for eternity.

Write your story.

 

“I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but . . . .”

 

One of your most important duties in writing a memoir is to re-live and re-examine and reconsider experiences—and that includes oh-so-important conversations.

 

Clear communication is difficult.

 

You’ve heard me say this many times: Examine your assumptions and conclusions: Perhaps what you think someone said to you is not what he or she meant.

 

I’ve heard that eighty percent of what we communicate is misunderstood. Eighty percent! The first time I read that, I was stunned.

 

Just imagine the potential ripple effects—it’s a staggering thought.

 

And then there’s this quote:

 

“I know that you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize

that what you heard

is not what I meant.”

(Attributed to Robert McCloskey, State Department spokesman)

 

When I first ran across that information, it shook me up. I began wondering how many times other people had misinterpreted my words, and how many times I had misunderstood others.

 

I remember a couple of times when I experienced the McCloskey quote, above.

 

When I was maybe ten or twelve years old, I was hanging out with my mom in the kitchen while she mixed up cookie dough.

 

While she and I were visiting, I picked up an orange and began to peel it. Back in those days, it was not unusual to see the following stamped on oranges: “Coloring added.”

 

I had always wondered what that meant so, standing there beside my mom at the kitchen counter, I asked, “What does this mean, ‘Coloring added’?”

 

“They add color to make it seem more appetizing,” she said.

 

“It used to be,” she continued, “that we had to add coloring ourselves. But now they do it for us.”

 

That baffled me. “What? How could people add the coloring themselves?”

 

“We dropped a little pill-like tablet into a bowl and used the back of a spoon to mash it into little powdery bits. And then we stirred everything together to make it yellow.”

 

“You stirred it in?!” I asked. “How could you stir powdery coloring into an orange?”

 

She stopped stirring her batter and looked me in the eye. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

 

“I’m talking about an orange. . . . What are you talking about?” I asked.

 

Mom laughed her funny-bone-tickled laugh until tears ran down her cheeks. “I thought you were talking about margarine! I was stirring margarine into the sugar when you asked the question. We used to have to stir coloring into margarine to make it yellow!”

 

Ah, finally the conundrum was solved!

 

That was a harmless miscommunication.

 

But sometimes—too often—miscommunication has potential to cause harm.

 

For example, one morning I stood beside my sweet sister-in-law, Sandra, as she made breakfast. I watched as she dropped eggs into a non-stick frypan and began to stir.

 

“You didn’t put in any oil?” I asked.

 

“No,” she said as she stirred.

 

“Hmmmm” I muttered.

 

This is what I was thinking: Non-stick frypans are great, but I’ve never seen anything like this. No oil!

 

I watched the eggs for a few more seconds and, mostly babbling to myself, I said, “I’ve always added oil first.”

 

Sweet Sandra picked up on my mumbling and quickly offered, “I can add oil if you’d like.”

 

At that moment I realized I’d miscommunicated. She sensed I was criticizing her for not using oil.

 

“Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” I hurried to explain. “I was just thinking of all the oil—and calories—I’ve eaten over the years when I didn’t need to!”

 

And the two of us had a good laugh.

 

I’m so glad we figured that out because I wouldn’t want her to think I was criticizing her.

 

But—and this is important—here’s my point: How many conversations did you have in the past that were, in reality, miscommunications?

 

Maybe your memoir includes stories about conversations—

with parents, siblings, children, in-laws,

friends, bosses, teachers, coaches, or spouses

that resulted in strained relationships,

broken hearts, or ended relationships.

 

Perhaps those conversations were defining moments,

when your life turned in another direction.

 

Maybe over the years

you’ve never gotten over the anger and offense.

Possibly you’re still holding a grudge.

Perhaps you’ve never been able to forgive.

 

And yet, maybe it was a matter of miscommunication!

 

Maybe what you heard the other person say

is not what the other person meant at all!

 

Give yourself ample time to re-live such conversations.

Re-think them. Re-evaluate them.

Then maybe get in touch with the other person and hash it out.

 

Perhaps, together with God, the two of you can

untangle past misunderstandings and hurt feelings

and restore your relationship.

 

And then you can write something altogether different

in your memoir than you had planned.

“If there is any possible way for readers to misread and misinterpret what you write, they will.”

 I still remember the first time I read the following: 

“I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I’m not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant.” (Attributed to Robert McCloskey, State Department spokesman) 

That statement stunned me. It had never occurred to me that human beings could be on such different wavelengths despite making an effort to communicate. In fact, that statement shook me up. I began wondering how many times other people had misinterpreted my words, and how many times I had misunderstood others. 

Here’s something else that upsets me: I’ve heard that eighty percent of what we communicate is misunderstood. Eighty percent! The ripple effects could be staggering. 

And here’s this from Kendall Haven: 

“It has long been a principle of writing that, if there is any possible way for readers to misread and misinterpret what you write, they will.” (Kendall Haven, A Storied Career) 

I had no idea. How about you? 

And, perhaps even more important: What’s a writer to do? 

Well, I gave you a few tips last week. (Click on Will readers find your writing clear and concise?)

Here are a few more: 

Ask yourself if you’ve used technical or foreign terms your readers might not understand. 

Eliminate lingo—Christianese, for example—which can be distasteful for some readers because it’s an insider language; it can make others feel like unwelcome outsiders. 

For other readers, the meaning of the Chritianese jargon might not be clear, even if it’s clear to you and your circle of Christian friends. Avoid phrases like “I’ve been washed in the blood of the Lamb.” Instead, use everyday language to tell your story clearly and precisely. 

Here are more examples of Christianese to avoid: 

• living in darkness
• redeemed from a dark past
• decided to follow the Lord
• cast your burden
• bear fruit that lasts
• climb the mountain
• walk through the valleys
• ruled by the flesh
• washed by the blood of Jesus
• the enemy
• slave to sin
• washed as white as snow
• nothing but the blood of Jesus
• walk of faith
• taking your quiet time
• put a hedge of protection around [a person]

Set your story aside for a few days, then read it aloud, putting yourself in your readers’ shoes. Be alert to what might confuse or cloud. 

Then reword everything that could send an ambiguous or confusing message. Make it easy for your readers to understand. 

Kendall Haven also said this: “The purpose of . . . editing is to make the writing so precise that it cannot be misread or misinterpreted.” (Kendall Haven, A Storied Career) 

And please be convinced of this: Rewording and rewriting and editing are not punishment. Embrace the art and craft of it! (Click on Tell yourself rewriting is not punishment.)

Most of all, have fun!

 

 

 

 

Will readers misunderstanding or misinterpret your writing?

Did you know that 80% of our communication is misunderstood?

Here’s how Kendall Haven says it:

“It has long been a guiding principle of writing that,

if there is any possible way

for readers to misread

and misinterpret

what you write,

they will.

The purpose of laborious

and tedious editing

is to make the writing so precise

that it cannot be misread

and misinterpreted.”

(emphasis mine; Kendall Haven, at A Storied Career)

Consider this oh-so-true statement:

“I know that you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize that

what you heard

is not what I meant.”

(attributed to Robert McCloskey,

U.S. State Department spokesman)

So what are you, a memoir writer, to do about that?

After you've written a vignette—or two or three or ten—set your work aside for a few days (or better yet, a few weeks) and think about other things.

Later, print your manuscript. Reading it on a computer screen is different from reading it on paper. I can’t explain why that’s true, but it is: I always catch boo-boos on paper that I miss on the computer screen.  

With printout and pen in hand, read. You’ll be surprised how objective you’ll be after stepping back from your story for a while. Jot notes to yourself about changes to make.

Next, make those revisions, keeping in mind that every good writer revises his or her manuscript a number of times.

Set aside your manuscript again for a few days or weeks and then print it and read it aloud. Your ears can alert you to what your eyes missed. Repeat this step as often as necessary until you’re satisfied.

Put yourself in your readers’ shoes and, for their sake, clarify. Simplify. Spell out.

Ask yourself, “Will they understand my story? Is it clear?”

Have you used lingo (Christianese, for example) or language (foreign or technical, for example) your readers might not understand?

Reword everything that could cause confusion.

Most of all, have fun spiffing up your rough drafts! Revision is an art: polish your story and make it beautiful.

Remember, your stories are important. Stories can change individuals, families, communities, towns, nations—and even the world!

Stories can change lives for eternity. Write your stories!

“If there is any possible way for readers to misread and misinterpret what you write, they will.”

Did you know that 80% of our communication is misunderstood?

Here’s how Kendall Haven says it:

“It has long been a guiding principle of writing that,

if there is any possible way

for readers to misread

and misinterpret

what you write,

they will.

The purpose of laborious

and tedious editing

is to make the writing so precise

that it cannot be misread

and misinterpreted.”

(emphasis mine; Kendall Haven, at A Storied Career)

Consider this oh-so-true statement:

“I know that you believe you understand

what you think I said,

but I’m not sure you realize that

what you heard

is not what I meant.”

(attributed to Robert McCloskey,

U.S. State Department spokesman)

So what are you, a memoir writer, to do about that?

After you’ve written a vignette for your memoir, put it aside for a few days and think about other things. Then, get out that manuscript and, with pen in hand, read it. You’ll be surprised at how objective you will be after stepping back from it for a while. Jot notes to yourself about changes you’d like to make.

Next, tell yourself that rewriting is not punishment and make those revisions, keeping in mind that every good writer revises his or her manuscript a number of times.

Then set aside your story again for a few days and then read it aloud. Your ears can alert you to what your eyes missed. Repeat this step as often as necessary until you’re satisfied.

Put yourself in your readers’ shoes and, for their sake, clarify. Simplify. Spell out.

Ask yourself, “Will they understand my story? Is it clear?”

Have you used lingo (Christianese, for example) or language (foreign or technical, for example) your readers might not understand?

Reword everything that could send an ambiguous meaning or cause confusion.

Most of all, have fun spiffing up your rough drafts! Revision is an art: polish your story and make it beautiful.

Remember, your stories are important. Stories can change individuals, families, communities, towns, nations—and even the world!

Stories can change lives for eternity. Write your stories!