original posting: Tue, 2 Nov 1993 18:00:07 JST
[YET ANOTHER UNREWARDING ASSAY FOR YOUR DEFERENCE!]
Several times recently I have suggested that the reader is correct in their interpretation of writing, no matter what the intent of the writer was. I realized that I skipped rather quickly over the thinking behind that, and I'd like to take a few moments of your time to expand on this point, since I consider it critical, and rather painful, for writers.
Let me try a "gedanken" experiment. Suppose that we have two people, and we show them two things (objects, processes, actions, whatever - the exact real-world items are unimportant to the experiment. For convenience, let us label them "the lady" and "the tyger". Do not be confused by these labels, though, the items could be anything.)
Now, for the purposes of our experiment, let the white-haired tech tell them that they are only allowed to call these two things "alpha" and "omega". "Alpha" is "the lady", and "omega" is "the tyger". They both signal agreement with this (a firm headshake from Alice, and an uncertain "I think I got it" from George).
Next, George is placed in a room with two doors (have you heard this story before?). Behind one is "the lady" and behind the other is "the tyger".
Alice can see what is behind the doors, and is able to open either door with a remote control. (is this boring?)
Now we ask George to name what he wants. He thinks hard, scratches the back of his head, and says, "omega".
Alice, unfortunately, cannot see the poor boy's intentions. All she has to go by is his word. If she believes him, trusting that he spoke in truth, well, there will be one less experimental subject. So should she discard his word?
Well, my gedanken says she might ask questions, kick the tech in the shins for conducting an unethical experiment (imagine penning up that poor tyger in the middle of this mess!), or otherwise break out of the experimental protocol. Worse than that, the experiment isn't a terribly good model for writing, except in that tygers wait for poorly chosen words...
Given the multi-ordinal (many, many little meanings hanging on each word) nature of writing, and the sometimes slow and difficult to see ways of questioning it, in most cases the reader is forced to rely on the words and that interpretation of them that they find in themselves. The writer's intentions, background, etc. may be different in significant ways, but, sadly, they are irrelevant to the reader.
Or perhaps my point will be clearer with a tiny diagram:
context 1
[ writer's mind ]
notion 1
words ---->------> words -----> -----> words
notion 2
[ reader's mind ]
context 2
What goes from writer to reader is a bunch of words. That's all. The context, intentions, hopes, dreams, and other parts that tied it all together disappear along the way... What the reader tries to do is reconstruct that, using that bunch of words and their own context.
Heck, I'm surprised we ever manage to communicate!
In talking, we use words plus a rather amazing set of additional channels (body language, intonation, eye contact, etc.) Some studies have estimated (don't ask me how they measure it) that the "other channels" may carry up to 90 percent of the content of human communications.
Further, there is feedback - immediate and fairly constant - to help two people communicate in that situation.
In writing, even such writing as we do here on the list, we have lost almost all the "other channels." The amount of feedback is reduced, and the inherent delay in receiving what little is available, both operate to make this a difficult medium for effective, smooth communications.
Printed writing - you may never hear from a reader. Indeed, your writing may go to readers separated so far from you in space and time that they cannot respond even if they wanted to. "Messages in bottles" indeed!
So - provide your reader with context. I still remember the rather stupid sounding commandment to "Tell your reader what they are going to read, tell it to them, then tell them what they just read."
In fiction, of course, we prefer to show, rather than tell. I find myself reminded of the number of television shows that start with an incredibly short "teaser" that sets the stage for the main action, and the almost invariant "trailer" where the main characters are reminded of the main action. A teaser that makes you laugh is a good lead-in for a comic show, and a trailer can also be useful in reminding the audience of what they have seen.
Let me stop pounding the point home, and see if there are any questions or comments? Yes, you can get up now...
(don't the writer's intentions count for anything?)
<SNORT>
Of course, the writer's intentions in writing a piece are important! Without them, there would be no piece. But when you let go of it, all the reader gets are the words. Make sure your message is in them, not just stuck in your head, and pray that it strikes the same sparks in the reader.
Now, your assignment for next week follows. Analyze and provide examples of the following:
From my hearth to yours,
A tiny candleflame,
Making both fires roar joyfully,
And warmth our partner,
In trade.
(incidentally, in case you're still puzzled, George, having been raised in the jungle, correctly recognized that he was far safer with a tyger in his tank than being tempted by the wily lady, so he did intend what he said. Now whose context more accurately matched the situation? George's, Alice's, or your's, dear reader in crime?)
may your thoughts be fertile and green
------] (with a hoe! hoe, hoe!)
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