I might be odd, but what I find more interesting than the short article itself is comparing the Scott Adams edited version to the original. I'm a rather poor writer, so this is a concrete example of how to improve.
That's a fantastic link. I just spent ten minutes reading through each version and checking for how Scott Adams reorganized the story. What program did you use to generate that view?
While looking at the diff, some of the edits struck me as overly formal - such as the hyphen, the elimination of the preposition at the end of a sentence and especially the use of the word "whom". I didn't notice a single one of those things while reading it in the article, though. It just flowed nicely.
That's a screenshot from DiffMerge http://www.sourcegear.com/diffmerge/ , but I typically just use Git or OS X's built-in "FileMerge" program. I was going to use GitHub's diff via a gist, but turns out GitHub Gists don't support diffs.
I don't, but then I have worked as a copy editor :)
The words were added by him, but functionally it sums up the point of the story extremely well: we associate art with creativity and inspiration, but leveraging that requires both teamwork and the confidence to trust your teammates. Many otherwise talented people fail in this area; I have, at times.
The version which ended with him saying he answers the phone with similar enthusiasm is not bad, but rather than concluding it just stops; the suspended quality is the equivalent of the awkward conversational pause where someone tells you a story and you're not quite sure if they've finished or not. If you read/hear the story as originally written, it's like a a rough canvas in a cluttered artist's studio: pretty, but increasingly hard to recall in detail as time goes by.
A strong conclusion emphasizes the underlying point and provides a contextual frame for the work, setting it apart from what surrounds it. Notice how the author's 'punchline' on 28/29 was 'made the phone call, changed my life' and he concludes by saying that his friend/mentor died, but keeps him motivated. Adams keeps it on the emotional level, moving from elation/triumph to wistful maturity, giving the advice (to make that call) far more impact: the closing sentence does not reinforce how he got the job - which is the substance and satisfaction of the story - but wonderfully articulates why he got it: because the artist was wise enough to learn from his audience. I could go on at length about how many levels this sentence works on, but its very best aspect is that it would work just as well as an intro to the story:
- Oh look at (impressive work), creator is/you are so awesome.
- Yep - but there's more to (field of endeavor) than what you see here. Let me tell you a story about a guy named Keith...
Of course the story is not about Keith, per se; it's about the complex relationship between fear and ego, and how giving up control can be so much more fruitful than jealously defending one's territory. This is what makes it a much more compelling nugget than, say, another tale of making nine cold calls to reach that one customer. The latter is like a story which seems genuinely amusing, but 'you had to be there'. The well-framed story is like the professional comedian's version that everyone can appreciate - 'it's funny because it's true.'
This offers a technique that can be used in many, many contexts, from motivating yourself to communicating with your customers. Ask yourself: what is the point of what I am trying to do here? What is my basic agenda? In short, answer the basic question of why (do you/should I care)? Write that down: whatever you're doing, it's basically your 'mission statement'. Answer that, and the questions of how becomes much easier to articulate and to answer. When you're done, cut the beginning, and rewrite into a firm conclusion. Instead of requesting attention and then struggling to pay for it, stimulate curiosity and then supply a satisfying resolution. By doing so, you become a provider rather than a petitioner and create value for your audience instead of placing demands upon them.
It's astonishing how effectively this simple technique can improve your writing, and by extension, your thinking. An editor's role is to shape a narrative into a story.
I remember in high school I had a teacher who taught us the hierarchy of communication. In person is first, by phone is second and written is third. This is because more of the message is transmitted in person ie you get words,voice and body language, with the phone you only get words and voice and with the written word you only get the words themselves. To this day if I have something important to say I do my best to say it in person or on the phone. Too often in a world of e-mail, texting, and twitter we assume we are being heard clearly through words alone, but for the really important stuff nothing beats face to face communication.
I think writing provides the most control over your message. With the right construction, you can convey arbitrary emotions with any medium -- but with writing, you can try a few versions and pick the best. You can "un-say" things, and you can revise until your message makes sense.
I think the reason why people think written communication is ineffective, is because most people just can't write.
Personally, I think I talk like I write, which makes my oral communication less effective. As I'm talking, if I think of something else to say, I have to revise my previous statements so that the listener ends up with the same mental picture as me. This takes time and words. When writing, though, I can just delete the thing that I didn't really want to say, and replace it with the better version. This saves the reader time and makes me look better. I think.
(Maybe this also makes me odd, but I feel the "good feeling of social interaction" both after speaking with someone in person or after communicating with them via writing. Writing emails to my favorite girl du jour makes me as nervous as meeting her in real life.)
I mistyped a single letter in an email and offended a coworker for life. He was on the road; I was in the office. I argued persuasively about a difference in design, ending with "When you get it, we can talk some more". I had intended to say "When you get in, we can talk some more".
I don't know what point you're trying to make, and I don't have a snappy anecdote to back it up. But I know I've observed similar (and similarly unnoticed) slips of pronunciation. It's not like the spoken word is infallible.
I was working a development job, but once a week we all had to do a day of support work. We all hated, we were supporting very non-technical staff, and there tickets were often so much nonsensical jibberish, that it made it very difficult. Often it took a few emails back and forth to find out exactly what the problem was. Eventually I figured out how to use the telephone, and often a 2 minute call would sort out there problems, without any work to be done on the system. It was great to talk to these people, realise that they weren't just problems in the ticketing system, but people trying to get work done. It proved to be a lot less frustrating experience once I figured that out. My colleagues, however, never learnt this trick, despite my assurances that they should just give them a quick call.
The original (Search for 'Lukeout'): http://www.dilbert.com/blog/entry/the_attention_contest/?Cmt...