Summary: All communication is about managing change. Good communication prepares the audience for the right kind of change. Listen to the episode here: OR SUBSCRIBE in iTunes or your favorite podcatcher. Full Transcript I’ve said that the most important part of writing well is knowing why we’re doing what we’re doing. And last week I had an opportunity to chat with an excellent public speaking coach, Stephanie Silverman, who agrees. We developed the idea that most speeches and writing projects will have the best likelihood of success if the writer sets out with a twofold aim: to recruit and to empower. This week I want to step backward just a little. I want to talk about the purpose of all communication, of every kind. That purpose is to manage change. Page 1: Princess Belle and the large, pale creature. Before I get all theoretical about it, let’s jump right to the concrete and practical. Let’s start this episode with the story of Princess Belle and her not very charming encounter. <a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/en"></a>Princess Belle is her online name. If I remembered her real name I wouldn’t use it here; we had enough stalking in episode 4. She’s two seats to my left at a long table where a number of us are, between bites of pizza and bits of conversation, typing furiously on our laptops. It’s November, and that means it’s <a title="National Novel Writing Month" href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/en" target="_blank">National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo</a>. We’re at a write-in at Empire’s Comics Vault. The place is bigger than I’d expected, and I feel dwarfed by it. I’m meeting a number of my fellow writers for the first time, including Princess Belle, who’s about 20 years old. I’ve asked Princess Belle about herself, and I’ve learned a lot, including that she speaks charmingly and greatly enjoys doing so. That was an hour ago, and I’ve returned to mostly minding my own business. I’m typing and typing and typing, when I hear a voice, a great and booming voice, a voice like that of a man but somewhat larger. “So, you’re writing a novel, huh?” And I hear the far smaller voice of the Princess. “Yes. I’m trying.” I look to my left, and see the large pale creature, looming over the seated Princess and addressing her again. “So that means you have brains. And you’ve got good looks. Nice combination.” Oh, did I neglect to describe Princess Belle? Well, the large pale creature was right. We fiction writers are told not to take the cheap shortcut around description that I’m about to take, but the Princess makes it all too easy. Physically, she’s Audrey Hepburn at about the same age. Any difference is chump change. She replies, “Umh, thank you.” “So, I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.” [Sweet Brown: Then I ran out I din’t grab no shoes or nothin’, I ran for my life.] Well, in truth, nobody ran. A whole tableful of writers and a few others are now looking at the large pale creature, but he doesn’t notice. It seems his four eyes are only for the Princess. Silent for a very long time, and too proud to beg us for help, she looks, alternately, at the large pale creature and her laptop. This is awkward enough that I’m wondering if someone at the table is going to bail her out. But, of course, we’re fiction writers. If it’s not really dangerous, this is the sort of thing we don’t interrupt but memorize. If you’re extremely surprised at this man’s behavior, maybe there’s something in the concept of a “comics shop” you don’t understand. On the other hand, if you’re not at all surprised, perhaps you yourself need a bit of schooling in the protocols of courtship. In any case, we will squeeze some sort of lesson from this lemon of an encounter. But not just yet. Page 2: Comments from my listeners. I’m delighted to report that my shameless begging for feedback has met with success. So much, in fact, that I can’t respond to all the responses.
