Writing in Circles

I’ve been preparing to give a TEDx talk in late October in Andover, Massachusetts where I live. This process has made me think a lot about my writing process. 

I’ve never been a very careful writer. I write quickly, and then it takes me multiple (and I mean many, many, many) iterations to write something that I feel good about. I’m envious of my friends and colleagues who have the ability to write more thoughtfully — putting down each sentence at a much slower pace but needing far fewer revisions in the end. I just don’t work that way.

One of the formative experiences of my life was drafting a ten-page paper for my freshman literature seminar in college. I thought the draft was in pretty good shape — nearly done — and I shared my draft with my professor. He flipped through each page while I sat in his office. When he reached the final page, he circled the very last paragraph and exclaimed, “Now this is interesting!” 

I don’t think my jaw dropped, but it might as well have. I was crestfallen. He handed me back my paper, and I read through the last paragraph that he had circled. I realized that it had taken me ten pages to wade through the morass of my thinking before I finally articulated a thesis statement worth pursuing.

Since then, I’ve learned the hard way that for me, writing just takes a while. My brain is not orderly. I often have to restructure my arguments, finding that material late in the piece actually belongs up front or vice versa. This process is intensive and seemingly never-ending. It is also deeply humbling.

Still, the lessons don’t get any easier along the way. Even now, after the 10th or 20th revision, I begin to feel hopeful that maybe I’m close to being done with whatever I’m working on.

As I was drafting this particular TEDx talk, I had finally made it through at least 10 to 15 rounds of major edits and was feeling like soon, I’d be able to focus my efforts on memorizing the talk. I met with the TEDx writing coach assigned to me, and her first question to me was: “Michelle, what is the main point you’re trying to convey in this talk?” 

I was dumbfounded. Wasn’t it super clear? 

Truthfully, I had really wanted her to start the conversation with something more like: “Wow! This is looking so good! There’s really very little I have to offer you in terms of advice. I just copyedited a few areas.” That’s what I really wanted to hear! 

Instead, she kept saying things like: “You’re talking about x, y, and z, but then you raise this other idea that completely takes away from what you're trying to say. You’re distracting me with these other ideas. And why should I care about x? How does it connect to y?”

I couldn’t help it. My hackles raised defensively. It was as though I had been plopped right back in my lit professor’s office watching him emphatically circle that final paragraph on the 10th page.

I scanned the passages to which the writing coach was referring, and I realized that she was right. Annoyingly right. 

I’d added too many flourishes and held on to certain paragraphs like darlings that just didn’t belong.

This writing coach’s push to simplify and clarify was not only the right thing to do, but it also it also improved the flow of the talk. Plus, it’ll ultimately be easier to remember (fingers crossed!).

I’ve since rewritten the talk another fifteen times or so, and there will be a few more revisions to come. It’s just the way it goes for me. 

Practice doesn’t make perfect. I don’t think there’s such a thing in writing. But once I can write my way through an idea, I become a whole lot more articulate later when I have to consult, speak, or answer questions. Nothing is wasted.

Stay tuned for that TED talk later this fall. And if you’re in the greater Boston area, here’s the link to attend TEDx Andover.

---

Dr. Michelle Weise is the author of Long Life Learning: Preparing for Jobs that Don’t Even Exist Yet and consults as an outsourced Chief Innovation/Learning/Impact Officer for businesses and higher education institutions. For more information, please visit: michelleweise.com.