Shrinking the Camel
A few weeks ago I attended a writer’s workshop at Laity Lodge in Texas. The program consisted of a small group of soon-to-be-famous writers and one semi-famous musician, all sitting around a table under the tutelage of an already-famous literary genius.
This was my very first venture into any kind of formal or professional writing development; so needless to say, I was intimidated and nervous. But I am a dedicated person, thus I subjected myself to the impending pain and humiliation for the sake of personal growth.
Our instructor was a brilliant woman whose presence was routinely announced by her impossibly fashionable silver rimmed cat-glasses. She spoke in clipped, abrupt sentences marked by a vaguely familiar highbrow, ivy-leagued accent, which I couldn’t quite place. Was it Blue-Blood Boston? Virginia horse country? Hyannisport, next door to the Kennedy’s? I imagined her descending upon our raggedy little Texas workshop straight from the Sitting Parlor of her family’s summer estate on the bluffs of the Maine coast.
The core of the workshop involved the group critiquing one another’s pieces. The rule was that we were to be honest, yet constructive, and the author was not allowed to speak until after everyone has had their say. I was second to last, and when the moment finally arrived for my piece to be reviewed, the instructor, no doubt feeling worn by our amateur affiliation, prompted the group to action.
“And now, it’s Bradley. Who will speak first?”
Silence.
Really, it probably lasted only twenty seconds, but it was far too long, like no one had anything good they wanted to share.
Finally, the woman to my right, a Grammy-award winning artist-soon-to-be-memoir-writer, spoke up:
“Well, to be honest,” she said, “I was turned off by your narration in the beginning. You have an arrogant attitude.” She elaborated on this a bit more.
Next, the thirty-something hipster pastor from Oregon with a shaved head and goatee immediately followed up, offering a concurring opinion.
“Yeah,” he said. “You definitely put people off with that tone.” This man did not like my atty-tude.
I obediently listened in silence, nodding my head, smiling.
A couple other folks eventually chimed in to validate some good parts that they liked, but the overall lesson was clear: Bradley, you come off like an arrogant asshole.
When I was finally allowed to speak, I tried to explain that my intended readership is generally hardened business executives, not Focus-on-the-Family mommies and youth pastors. And the edgy tone is meant to invoke some kind of recognition from my highly competitive, overachieving business colleagues.
Upon hearing this, the hipster-pastor made a gesture simulating a whip being thrashed in my direction. I am still trying to understand what that meant.
“I will take this all into consideration.” I concluded to the group. “I certainly don’t want to be offending people. Thank you for being so honest.”
After the session was over, I met up with my friends Sam Van Eman and Claire Burge sitting on the back deck overlooking the Frio River. They asked me how it went, and I told them about the arrogant comments. Without hesitation, Clair blurted out, “But you ARE arrogant!” She said this in her exotic South African accent with a big smile, which made it sound affirming and attractive.
“Yeah? And?” I retorted. “It’s just how I write. I call it like I see it. It’s me being honest with how I experience things.”
Claire went on to say how annoyed her mother gets (who apparently is on my email list) when she reads some of my material. “Who does he think he is?” she’ll complain to Claire over the phone, all in a huff.
I suppose I could soften up my tone a bit, maybe becoming more pastorly and stoic:
Hello, friends. Today I’d like to talk about dealing with mean people in the workplace. Say, have you thought of reading the scriptures before work, so that you might arm yourself with patience and prudence? Yes, it says in Psalm 119 that the word of God shall be a light to thine feet and a lamp to thine soul! Instead of getting mad at your co-worker, bring the light with you to work today!
What a load of crap that would be.
Then Claire said something really great.
“The thing is, Brad, even though you sound arrogant, we keep reading because you always redeem yourself in the end.”
Well, I guess that is true. Because I know better than anyone else how full of crap I really am. And in the end, I am only relying on the grace of God to get me through. And I don’t for a second think it’s me who’s doing the redeeming.
So, dear readers, there you have it. I want to know the truth. Be honest with me, like the folks in the writer’s workshop. Do I come off as too arrogant? Am I offending and alienating you and making you mad, like Claire’s mother? Should I change my tone to a softer, gentler approach?
This is Bradley J. Moore, and I approve this message.
Photo by Nancy Rosback.
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