Abuse and Neglect

[Peg Herring]

Yesterday I laid out my contention that listening should be taught, like writing and reading. Authors know that one must observe carefully with the eye in order to be able to capture an image. The same applies to the other senses: we have to hear, taste, smell, and touch with consciousness in order to be able to describe the sensation.

Most people listen badly. Although we spend the largest part of our day listening, not talking or writing, we tend to be thinking of other things as we appear to listen: how oddly the speaker's mouth moves when he talks, what's going on behind us, or (most often) what we're going to say next. This is easily demonstrated in the frequent experience of being introduced to someone and ten seconds later not being able to remember the person's name. It's because we weren't listening, only hearing.

The best listeners only remember a quarter of what they hear; the rest of us are worse off than that. Granted, most of it is forgettable, but for writers, there are nuggets buried in conversation that expose character, background, and motivation.

Here's an example: a group of us were talking one day and the subject came up of who we would save from drowning if we had to make a choice, our spouse or one of our children. When I said that would be a really hard decision for me, one of the women said, "There's no question. I would save my child." Her tone of voice (a great listening cue) indicated she thought I was crazy for having to think twice about it. A year later, that woman, who had never said a word against her husband and appeared to be content in her marriage, got a divorce. I was totally surprised, but maybe if I'd been listening more closely in that conversation, I'd have had a clue.

In the example, note that it isn't the choice that was made, it's the wording and tone. Much of meaning comes not from what is said but from nonverbal clues like posture and facial expression, or tonal clues, inflection and vocal stress. Who hasn't had the experience of asking an obviously upset loved one what's wrong and receiving the answer: "Nothing." From the folded arms, the averted glance, and the cold tone we get a totally different meaning than the word implies: "Nothing" definitely means something.

What does this mean for a writer? First we must practice observing speakers, trying to pick up clues to the message behind their words. We must listen with focus and not just hear what is said. It pays off in your writing, and it can be beneficial in practical ways as well. I used to have a boss who closed his eyes when he was about to tell a lie. That kind of "tell" was useful in contract negotiations!

Once we have developed listening skills, we infuse into our writing what we've learned. Characters become individuals. Dialogue becomes realistic. Readers get a sense of variance that is lifelike: we can believe this person's words but we shouldn't trust this one.

As a kid I rejected the works of greats like Steinbeck and Hemingway. Their writing seemed stark, and I wasn't told what I was supposed to think of each character. Only as an adult did I come to appreciate the nuances great writers use to convey truth about their creations. It's all tied up in hearing -- make that listening to -- what those characters say. Communication begins with listening.