Terrible Paradox.docx

Aerial Fabish Borczon Comp. 101-06 February 22, 2019

The Terrible Paradox There I stood, hands shaking fiercely, and a smile engraved into my face. I was an arm’s length away from my personal hero, the lead singer of a rock band called Blue October. Despite agonizing over what to say to him the weeks leading up to the concert and rehearsing a script on the four-hour bus ride from Springfield to Chicago, I was at a complete loss for words. Instead, I thrust a six-page letter into his hands, the smile on my face unwavering as if I could not control my own body language. The singer graciously accepted my gift and attempted to strike up a conversation. The most I could muster was a confession of love and admiration before I hurriedly rushed through the line of other adoring fans. That experience of speechlessness, while much more intense than others, is not unique for me. In day-to-day life, I find myself either struggling to form a coherent sentence or unable to even find words. While the sensation of standing in front of an icon can be overwhelming for anyone, but the encounter I had, paired with my selfdescribed social awkwardness, led to a desire to explore exactly why I have such a tough time putting my thoughts into words. Perhaps the most perplexing part of my inability to speak eloquently is how fluently I can write. On paper, I can express ideas easily, and I am able to shape

sentences into a beautiful stream of consciousness. This has frustrated me most of my life, as I wish I could vocalize my thoughts in the same manner. However, I am not alone. In an article, “How Writers Speak”, author Arthur Krystal explores the phenomenon of speechless, socially awkward writers, attempting to find some concrete answer. He suggests, “…writers don’t have to be brilliant conversationalists; it’s not their job to be smart except, of course, when they write.” (par 2). I found myself nodding through the statement, my mind shouting in agreement. To many, writers are perceived as brilliant wordsmiths, and that notion spreads to an oftentimes false belief that they are articulate and expressive public speakers and conversationalists. The truth is, writers need only be wordsmiths in their craft; excellent penmanship does not automatically equate to eloquent speech. While some writers may excel with language in all forms, this does not seem to be the case for the majority. Krystal goes on to quote other popular authors, such as Edgar Allen Poe and Vladimir Nabokov, both of whom share the curse of only adequately expressing themselves on paper. Krystal quotes, “According to Edgar Allan Poe, writing in Graham’s Magazine, “Some Frenchman — possibly Montaigne — says: ‘People talk about thinking, but for my part I never think except when I sit down to write.” I can’t find these words in my copy of Montaigne, but I agree with the thought, whoever might have formed it. And it’s not because writing helps me to organize my ideas or reveals how I feel about something, but because it actually creates thought or, at least supplies a Petri dish for its genesis.”” (par 3). In my own experience, writing does both. For example, if I am unsure of how to proceed in a situation, writing about it helps in organizing my thoughts and usually provides a clear conclusion. However, in other

scenarios, I sometimes do not even know my own thoughts until I begin writing. As often as writing solves problems, it creates more. It is an endless loop. While the ideas Krystal presents in his article are valid, I believe this phenomenon may stem from something deeper. Writers are artists, substituting pens and paper for paint and canvas. For all artists, their craft is their voice. The same way a painter expresses sorrow, joy, and fear through the tips of their brushes, writers are pouring out those same emotions through written text. In my own life, writing has provided me an oasis to safely explore the depths of my thoughts and feelings. Vocalizing these sentiments can be uncomfortable and intimidating, and I believe this may be the same for many others. When you think about writers as artists, their lack of communication skills is not as fascinating. Would you automatically expect every painter to always know what to say? Reflecting further on my first meeting with my favorite rock star, I no longer feel the same amount of regret as I used to. Seeing as he meets hundreds of fans every tour, I am confident I was not the first one to act completely starstruck, and I will not be the last. However, I do hope he read my letter, because in it I was able to appropriately express my idolization and gratitude for his music. Admittedly, in that encounter and in everyday life, I place high expectations on myself to present in person what I represent on paper. Like everyone else, I have my strengths and weaknesses. Though it may seem like a paradox, the simple fact is that I am an excellent writer and a terrible conversationalist. For me, that is something I can live with.