Read more, apologize less
1
THE ANTIDOTE IS READING
I initially wrote a whole essay based off this article that turned into a humble brag about how many books I read (not so humble, actually—just several paragraphs composed of variations of “I read lots of books; here’s another example”). That’s because the opening line of this article I wanted to write about says that Americans are reading far fewer books than ever in the recorded history of Americans reading books, and I, apparently, got defensive and self-centered in my argument against said opening line because I read a lot (as if I define the average American). But I’m not particularly average (card-carrying weirdo right here, with the books and the staying in too often and the songs on repeat and the desire to hide and be seen simultaneously (oh, you too? Come, join me in my weirdness; we can be weird together)), so I can shake out these ruffled feathers, let that defensiveness go, and get on with the point here. (I just wiggled in a literal attempt to smooth those metaphorical feathers. See? Weird. But, like, good-weird, you know?)
The point of the article isn’t even about how many books we read; it’s about what we lose when we train our attention to follow the staccato beat pulsing under the digital clubs we visit with each swipe of our smudged screens, every buzz of haptic feedback, the siren songs that sing to us from our pockets, our desks, our wrists. We’re ensnared by the insistent throb of information, desire, and novelty, entangled in a net woven by AI out of data scraped from the movements of our fingers, our eyes, our bodies, our clicks, our traffic, tailored to fit us perfectly.
And reading, especially uninterrupted stretches of deep reading, is the focus cure—because burying yourself in a book, feeling the paper under your fingertips as you prepare unconsciously to turn the page, falling into a story and living there for hours, unravels the constricting braid woven around us by tech, defines and stretches and strengthens new neural pathways in our brains so that we can focus better in a world where our attention is our greatest asset. (Don’t get me wrong, I adore tech, love that it lets me carry the world in my pocket, but I want it to work for me instead of being beholden to it myself. Luckily, I read.)
2
THE LYRICS OF LISTENING
Stay calm and quiet to let creativity come to you, and when it comes, listen and transcribe what it whispers in your ear.
This lyrical recollection of writing a children’s book reminds me that inspiration comes in many forms, and we must still the mind to let wonder stream in, then capture it as it flows past our open thought that is ready to receive.
3
SORRY FOR THE WAIT
Do you reflexively apologize? I apologize too often, including for things that either aren’t my fault or simply don’t require an apology. I try not to, then worry I’ll be judged as a hard-ass who doesn’t care about other people; life, language, and social mores are complex, and the fabric of my social education has been woven with the attendant guilt and shame I’ve subconsciously been taught to bear for others.
The other day at work, I reached out to a complete stranger (cross-company communication, we say on the inside) because I was attempting to track down the team way across the company that designed a feature I was going to leverage. I sent them a message on Teams, introduced myself, explained the situation, asked my question. Then I navigated away to focus on the many other things that occupy my workday.
When they responded two hours later, they apologized deeply for making me wait for so long before getting back to me. And I tried to figure out how to respond because, while I appreciated their concern, a waiting span of two hours is nothing to be sorry about, and their apology left me feeling badly, as if my initial request had burdened them with something so great that they felt they had to respond to me immediately. What a circle of apology I instigated.
Here's what I know: It's okay to wait. (Usually. Almost always.) And it’s okay to apologize. Or not. We’re all working life out at our own pace. So give each other grace. Be kind. Embrace the little wins. Embrace the wait.
4
QUIET YOUR MIND
When you’re feeling overwhelmed, overwrought, and wrung out, grab a pen and a notebook, and start writing it all down. Let your thoughts flow from your brain, down your arm, through your fingertips, and ink them on the paper.
You can stop there. Lock the productivity gate for a minute. Take a breath and pause and ponder and listen to the new quiet spaces you’ve cleared in your mind.
Or you can keep the gate open and turn your brain dump into an organized to-do list. Either one helps get you out of the whirl and swirl of information overload.
5
WORDS MATTER
We writers know that words matter. I love writing because I can spend time selecting the right word for what I’m trying to communicate.
Speaking? Well, that’s harder for me. My mind tends to reach out into in the tangle of words swirling there and grabs, too often, a word adjacent to the one I reached for. I’m working on it. I practice re-dos, which means people get to wait while I cast about for the right word. (I am a delight to talk to, as a result. </sarcasm>) But it’s because I care—too much, really—about the accuracy of my delivered content. And it’s because language matters.