Communication – Peter Davoust

We tend to think of writing primarily as a tool for communication. And, to be honest, it is primarily a tool for communication. Maybe communication to someone else, maybe communication to a version of you or someone else in the future (i.e. record-keeping), but we write things down – mainly – in lieu of saying them face-to-face. But I think we sometimes overlook writing’s usefulness as a tool for refined thinking and problem-solving.

The easiest in-road for this idea is journaling. Journaling is having a moment right now, and for good reason: it helps. I don’t have a study to link here (you can search for it if you’re curious), but I can say, anecdotally, that journaling is very helpful for me, personally. Have you ever had the experience of explaining a problem to someone and just hearing yourself say it out loud, you come up with the solution? Journaling is kind of like that sometimes, with the added benefit that you can go back and look over what you’ve written.

But writing isn’t just a tool for thought in the sphere of mental health. When I’m starting a big, complex project for my company or for my day job, I often start with a document. I write out the objectives, I write out the unknowns, I list the options, and anything else that seems relevant to the project. Often, I’m the only one that reads them, but that’s enough. Because writing is a thinking tool.

There’s something magical that happens when you write down (and, critically, revise) an idea. It’s like having a conversation with yourself. Ideas that sounded perfect in your head, when they transition into the reality of the written word, reveal some of their flaws. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that writing – at least, good writing – requires you to take the perspective of the reader, so in a way, you have to imagine and account for the feedback given by other people. Or maybe it’s just the fact that seeing the ideas all in one place allows you to organize your thoughts better.

When I write a plan, in an exercise that often appears needlessly bureaucratic and red-tape-y, I don’t spend most of the time editing: I spend most of the time revising. I write, rewrite, delete, and move around sentences and sections until the document in front of me contains the most complete and succinct version of the idea I can create. As I’m writing, new ideas usually occur to me that were either missing from the original plan or that would make it better. Then, I put the document down for a while. I walk away, do something else, and give the paper (often digital paper, these days) and the ideas on it some time to age. I give myself some time to age too. When I come back with fresh eyes, there are some inevitably some changes I want to make. You miss out on all that evolution if you just rush into a project without writing.

I suggest you try it. The next time you’re trying to do something that you can’t quite wrap your mind around, write it down. Write down all the options you’ve considered, and why you picked the one you’ve picked. Organize it into sections. Then edit. Try to make it as clear as possible. And see what happens.

I’m always suspicious of directives that are all-encompassing and absolute – Do this. Don’t do that. Always do this. Never do that – when they come with no accompanying rationale or context. It’s hard to decide whether you agree or disagree with a statement unless it’s backed up with an explanation.

Why does the person telling me this believe it’s true? Why do they believe it’s true for me? In what situations does it apply? In what situations doesn’t it apply? And what is the consequence if it happens anyway?

Warning labels often fit into this category, despite having good intentions. “Do not drink alcohol while taking this medication.” “Only use as intended.” “Do not mix with….” These are important instructions, but the lack of accompanying information creates a pocket of danger: what is the result if it happens anyway? If you decide to drink alcohol while on the medication against the advice, or if you failed to understand the product directions, or if the product actually does get mixed with whatever… what happens then? What do I do to fix it? How bad is the outcome?

I think sometimes this information is left out because of liability concerns, or because the person writing the label thinks that, if we know the consequences, we’ll decide they aren’t that bad and do them anyway. But managing risk is an important part of life, and how do you manage risk if you don’t have all the available information?

The reality is, while many people will blindly follow the directions (if they read them at all), a lot of other people will say “forget it” and do it anyway if it’s important enough to them. And since they don’t know what problems to look out for, they can’t plan for the risks they’re assuming. They’re going in blind, and that’s dangerous.