Don’t write to impress yourself, write to communicate. That’s my principle and sometimes I follow it. I came up with the principle because of an acquaintance who was a bit of a fool. Posting on message boards was the topic; we were on the same board and he was in town, so we met. As we walked along the sidewalk, he described his approach. “And never change things and rewrite,” he finished. “Write and post it.” He said this with the air of one being quick and understated because a truth is being mentioned—one of the firm, small principles that shape a life. You don’t make a big deal of it because you and he, the fellow you’re talking to, understand that a person does these things; really, a man does these things.
So I shouldn’t have answered “Why?” But I did. I wanted to know and, after all, one must lead one’s life. The results weren’t good. His stride acquired a brief hitch and his face closed and lowered, creating half a moment of privacy as he was alone with his disappointment. I mean that he winced. Then his stride resumed, the conversation resumed (I don’t know about what). I realized that I’d get no answer and our talk had moved on.
He was one of the world’s dudely men and I guess he saw posting as one more chance to be a cavalier, a man of the world. Answer back with the swift aplomb of the guy who isn’t rattled; perform with the sure hand of the man who pours a drink or lines up a shot. Don’t scrabble around and sweat and then pretend to be such a fellow by sharing some fussed-over sentences. On our message board his approach certainly worked: he was the star for prose style and he cut a figure in debate. I didn’t think much of his writing myself. As so often I was slumming it and the applause for him seemed like part of the local noise.
A couple of years after our single meeting, the guy posted a long account that implied he’d seduced a beautiful young member of the service sector. The punchline, a sly sort of affair, said she reminded him that wine shouldn’t make any noise when it pops. He included a wink emoji and perhaps that was too much, because somebody responded that wine isn’t popped, that one uses a corkscrew. My acquaintance posted back that the girl had indeed said the thing, and the argument continued in brief posts until the truth emerged: the girl hadn’t said it, he hadn’t bedded her, the story was made up. He said he wanted to do the board a service by providing some entertainment. Or is my memory gilding the lily there? Anyway, he copped to it. Yet his reputation continued intact. The episode took place late on Sunday, so maybe it passed people by.
Why not say, sure, the girl hadn’t made the remark but they still slept together? I don’t know, given that the cavalier code doesn’t mind about falsehoods. Just rattled, one supposes. Oh, it’s all quite rich. The guy made up a pointless rule so he could feel good about following it, and meanwhile nothing was there to stop him from lying. It’s just… I mean really—him and his wince. Anyway, here’s a rule: don’t lie. And don’t write to impress yourself, write to communicate.