(First in a series of three)
Oui. Si. Da. You bet.
I’m looking you right in the proverbial eyes. As you read.
If I’m doing my best job as a writer for a fairly defined audience, yes, you should understand what I’m saying because I am talking to you!
My words, my message, should be as easy to understand as a signal my son Christopher’s baseball third base coach used to communicate to his players, “Run on the next pitch”: fingers from one hand dancing along his other forearm, not unlike graceful fingers tickling the ivories. (Was it more amusing that the opposing runners couldn’t steal this sign, or that his own players sometimes missed it?)
As a battle-tested communications pro whose base skill is writing, I always stick up for the little guy out there – the one who needs to understand the corporate/organizational message as simply as possible. And as for the outsized intellects out there, who need only can scan that same message to comprehend? You’re welcome.
Writing to the audience is an art form that I continue to practice, and hope that on most days I improve on yesterday’s skills. My writer’s soul can actually drip with excitement when I write about a subject that I believe deep in my heart can inspire, inform, elicit emotion, or maybe even effect change.
And that same soul can cringe when editing documents drier than toast sitting under the midday desert sun. Like insurance documents. Right now, it pays the bills – my bread and butter, I guess. Or croutons. So I try to scrounge up some passion by thinking about who ultimately will read these manuals, payment policies, and such – so that they can do their jobs sitting in some doctor’s office. I still try to put myself in these readers’ eyes and engage them.
It’s a professional passion, but I have to dig wide and deep to understand its origin. I’ve been working this gig for a long time in my career, and personally, for my own self-reflection and growth.
It’s not clear to me sometimes if I am achieving my writing objectives, and I hadn’t thought for a long time about how I got here. Until August 3, 2022.
That day, someone who once inspired me to become a writer did speak to me. Directly (despite the other humans seated in the small presentation room). And with his voice rather than just his written words. He WAS talkin’ to me, just like he’d talked to me through millions of words since I was an adolescent.
On that glorious day, I stepped into my personal Field of Dreams and knew how I got there.




