Respect for the Reader: Writing without Patronizing

Our writing craft will thank us when we have nothing to prove

Back when I was a writing tutor at the community college, a job I would have kept forever if it wasn’t a work-study position!

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I recently posted a Substack Note about what I’m proud of in regards to my publication, Shy Guy Meets the Buddha. I wrote about the diligence and care I put into my writing, my consistent publishing schedule, my ever-expanding body of work, and the thoughtful community that has come together around my compositions. The note was a response to a question by the much-loved Substack growth strategist, Sarah Fay, PhD, although I restacked it to my own wall. It wasn’t meant to be marketing or anything like that, and I was surprised at how much support it got. I really am proud of my Substack, and I was just answering the question honestly.

One reader said he found it amusing and impressive that more people engaged with a comment he made on one of my posts than they ever did on his own publication. Another reader restacked the note and took the time to add a flattering endorsement. Others were equally kind. (Thank you for your support, Chris Beck, Maia Duerr, Sam Messersmith, Bernie Mortensen, Yannis Helios, and others.)

I think people respond well to my writing because my approach is underscored by a sense of respect for the reader. Readers know that I’m not speaking down to them or making assumptions about their intelligence or experience, and that when they comment on a post, their thoughts and ideas will be taken seriously. They know I’m not going to be haughty or dismissive, as if I knew better than they. The fact is, I don’t know much about much, and I’m not so insecure that I need to pretend otherwise!

Humility

Wonder and awe, nature and beauty are more important to me than the ability to expound on facts and statistics or to claim some sort of spiritual superiority. I do seek truth always, but I know truth isn’t something you can fix and hold, as if it wouldn’t change tomorrow. Change is the only thing we can be sure of.

I find life fascinating. I find myself fascinating, but in an objective, rather than a self-absorbed way. I resonate with E. B. White’s characterization of Henry David Thoreau as “both artist and model, examining his own position in relation to nature and society with the most patient and appreciative care.”* I like to learn things about myself and how my mind works because I know I’m human like everyone else, and the more I understand my own fears and insecurities, delusions and misconceptions, the more I’ll understand others. I like to write about that learning process, but I also know that for everything I learn or grasp in this complicated life, there are a dozen or a hundred more things that I didn’t even know I didn’t know.

I have become a better person and a better communicator through interacting with others here on Substack, and that includes being corrected or redirected occasionally by those with more expertise or who see a subject more broadly than I do. I’ve been called out when I’ve been careless with my wording or opinions, or when my view was too narrow, and it wasn’t always easy to hear. My first impulse is often to defend myself, but I try to practice the hold-your-tongue techniques spelled out in acronyms like T.H.I.N.K. (Is what I’m about to say True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary, or Kind?), or my favorite, W.A.I.T. (Why Am I Talking?)

Of course, some say we should speak out against those on social media who are ill-mannered or offensive, but I choose my battles; chastising or arguing with some misguided, lonely stranger who lacks communication skills is a waste of energy. I’ll save my finger muscles for more meaningful exchanges and literary work.

More importantly, W.A.I.T. often reveals to me truths that I perhaps wasn’t ready to hear. A couple of months ago, I complained on Substack Notes about a couple of over-talkers I’d struggled to find patience for, and the note really took off; apparently there are a huge number of people who have felt equally trapped by poor listeners and jibber-jabberers. But mixed in with the empathy and me-toos were a number of comments gently schooling me about neurodivergence, and how some people have difficulty withholding their excitement when they’re met with a rare patient ear. I thanked the commenters for expanding my awareness and helping me to be a more tolerant person.

I’ll mention too that a surprising number of readers tersely responded to that note with some variation of “Welcome to a woman’s world”; as if only men talk too much! This motivated me to do some online research, where I learned that while it’s true that men interrupt women more than women interrupt men, men and women are equally prone to dominating a conversation, the gender depending only on the circumstances and the size and purpose of the discussion group. My response to these readers was mostly, Thank you for your comment, because a pedantic quarrel about the manifestations of gender disparity is one I’m staying away from. I understood where they were coming from and didn’t want to argue the details.

Respect

What is respect and where does it come from? I think that having either a too high or a too low opinion of oneself can lead to an inability to see others from an open, non-judgmental place. We’re seeing through a faulty filter. We have too strong a need to be validated or to reinforce our beliefs and opinions through our interactions with others. To put it simply, we have something to prove, and that’s an obstacle to a respectful conversation or written exchange.

When one has nothing to prove, one can drop all pretenses and just be interested in others. Who they are, what they want, where they’ve been, where they’re going, why they feel as they do. This level of interest is objective, not self-serving. It also happens to apply equally to others and to oneself, reflecting my earlier comment about self-inquiry being a great way to understand people.

Being in this state of objective curiosity—and I want to stress that it’s not a state of perfection, it’s a state of expanding but often imperfect or vacillating awareness—manifests not just in healthier and more fulfilling interactions with people, but also in the kind of writing that puts readers at ease, that can make them feel seen and understood, that is less likely to offend or alienate, because the writer makes no presumptions about the reader. The writer is open to being wrong, to the possibility of gaining new insights, and they share their thoughts with humility, mindfulness, and consideration for where and how those ideas might land.

Respect is not something one has to consciously include in one’s writing; I think it manifests naturally when one has achieved—often through a practice of mindfulness or nonjudgmental self-inquiry—a sense of self-acceptance, an ability to finally see that in order to learn and grow, one must accept one’s imperfections in the first place.

DB 🙏💚

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In a constantly changing world, we need the flexibility that only imperfection provides.

—Edward O. Wilson, The Social Conquest of Earth

Don Boivin is a writer and carpenter living in Hyannis, Massachusetts.

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*E. B. White, Writings from the New Yorker 1925-1976, Harper Collins, 1990