If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber’d here
While these visions did appear.

I’ve been having some rather candid conversations with fellow writers in Towson and around town about the importance of authentic writing. Repeatedly, the same troubling concern rises to the primary focus of these discussions: we do not wish to offend, yet we know that, invariably, we will.

Offend whom, you ask?

There’s a book that I refer to often. It’s called The Four Agreements by Don Miguel Ruiz. The message is simple and can be found in most “good book” manuals, from the bible to the cub scout handbook. But the simplicity with which this book is written makes the agreements themselves accessible.

One of the four agreements is to never take anything personally.

Good advice for both readers and writers, I think, when the latter is doing his job authentically.

On the reader’s end, authentic writing from a son, a father, a spouse, a friend, a colleague can be terribly enlightening, but often it brings contradictions to that “role” that the writer has played with that reader over, perhaps, many years. It took me a very long time to see my parents as individuals; they shared only a fraction of their true personalities to us when we were children. By no means did they not live authentically; I believe that, on many levels, they did, especially Mom. But I didn’t care about any of that; I didn’t know any of that even existed, to be honest with you.

It did exist, though. Despite my every attempt to keep them in their roles as Mom and Dad, much to my astonishment, they were Eileen and Charles, individuals, to the rest of the world.

I imagine it is the same for you, in some manner.

For those of us who do not write, it’s not as big a deal, I think. There are fewer chances for us to bare our true souls, put them on the stage for all to see in black and white. We find convenient ways to practice a “don’t ask, don’t tell” lifestyle where we keep our authentic selves from emerging.

We’re good. We play the game and, for the most part, choose our translucent masks from the jar by the door, where they mingle a little shyly with the others of varying thickness. We even find ourselves believing that we are the mask. It shows up in our actions, our words, our beliefs. We buy into these pop-fad crises of global warming and rush to buy our hybrid cars suddenly to save the earth. We are made to feel so good, our egos soothed by our acts, doing our part, living the good, right life.

I don’t mean to mock or offend. I don’t. It is me. This is my belief and it’s not about any one of you. It’s what I feel, what I think, what I believe. When I read that you are looking for hybrid choices, I applaud your efforts and want to know if you are free for a barbecue next Thursday. That’s your choice to make. That’s your place in this world, right here, right now.

I do not mean to offend. I mean to tell you what I think. Please, do not take it personally.

But as writers, we do this as well–we anticipate criticism that we will most assuredly take personally, and then censor our writing to make our audience members nod their head in agreement. That’s what we’re after, isn’t it? Approval? We sacrifice authenticity for approval. We sacrifice genuine honesty to protect the ones we love and to preserve the images they hold of us, near and dear to their hearts.

God bless us all for our efforts.

That’s not authentic, though. As writers, we’re faced with this dilemma on a daily basis. My blog is public. But my blog entries are personal. Do I wish to be conservative? Refrain from posting opinions that might offend? Censor my thoughts and censor who I am to save the ones I love from potential hurt because they choose to take my words personally?

We can’t help it, I know. It’s what we do all day long. We are trained away from seeing and sharing all things with love; we grow suspicious, concerned, filtering all that comes in, and all that goes out.

We are becoming the first generation of artificial intelligence (AI) life forms, higher-level thinking zombies, if you will, who walk through their days and surf in their nights playing the lifelong game of PC-Perfect individuals, never wishing to offend, never wishing to misunderstand.

So many of us wish to do neither. And yet, we do, and in so doing we feel terribly sad that our efforts to live and write authentically have somehow missed their mark.

Never take anything personally.

I know. I see myself doing it even now. It’s hard. So hard, when you know that your audience sees you in so many different roles: teacher, husband, father, friend, colleague. They bring those filters to my words and gasp, shake their heads, and maybe even do a little re-read to make sure they got it all right the first time.

Never before, though, have we lived such transparent lives for all our communities to see us so vividly. We’re all making choices, however conscious (or not) those choices may be. Some are retreating, staying low, under the public radar and wrapping themselves around popular causes to insulate them from the dangers of authentic living. It’s a genuine and noble drive, for sure. There’s not much awareness happening at this level, I believe; rather, there is much awareness happening for everything but who they truly are as individuals.

We’ve had our arts programs stripped out of our schools, we have our students practicing the art of hoop writing with perfecting the tricky craft of composing brief and extended constructed responses. We are regurgitating numbers and facts and formulas and processes at lightning speeds so that school systems can boast when the annual reports are published in the morning papers: We are in the XXth Percentile; we have many reasons to celebrate. So many other schools did horribly worse. Hoorah for us.

We are not celebrating the successes of our individual students in their desperate attempts to hold on to their individuality; we celebrate that, collectively, we play a better game of jump rope than half the other schools on our block.

When they graduate, those expert jump-ropers, what do they know of authenticity? Of individuality?

Perhaps that is why so many of them flock wildly to Facebook for a little breathing room, a little sanity where they can be a little dangerous with their words, say what’s really on their minds, and feel like they’re living authentically in a bead of water that rests precariously on a dewy leaf, overlooking the rushing waters of domestication and conformity.

Look, I know it’s hard. We both need to work on it, Reader and Writer. But maybe, just maybe, if each of us comes to the page with a little sensibility, doing our best to take none of this personally, then maybe, perchance, we will not have offended the other.

Just maybe.

On my ride into school this morning, it dawned on me, and how foolish I now feel.

New book. Outrageous controversy. Book shoots to no. 1 on bestseller list. Mission accomplished.

I would imagine that a person like Ann Coulter who has the audacity to write such claims also has the guts to promote her book so shamelessly. The whole riff with Lauer (“Are you getting testy with me?”) was all in the plans to spark such a controversy and shoot her book to number one.

Still, the irony is this: Coulter blasts the 9/11 widows for riding the coattails of their husbands’ deaths to become millionaires and further their own agenda.

But look who’s riding those coattails now. Coulter is guilty of doing the very thing she blames the widows of doing. But her ride is even worse (given that you believe the widows are guilty of this in the first place, which I do not), for she is like a second-generation leech, feeding off of the tragedies of others with whom she has no direct relations.
And we, the consumers of such folly, are helping her laugh all the way to the bank if we buy her book.

Me? I’ll hop on the library wait list to read this one.

Can’t anybody sell a book these days without such trickery?

As I re-emerge into the world of breaking news and the neverending scandals in the field of writing and journalism (and boy, am I happy to be back), I feel like I can begin to comment somewhat more competently on the whole Ann Coulter debacle.

Friday afternoon, I enjoyed a great discussion with a colleague on

1. the legitimacy of Ann Coulter’s statements specifically about the 9/11 widows and
2. her presentation of those statements, both in print and subsequently with the media.

Our discussion began from her reaction to what Ann had said about the 9/11 widows, calling them witches and money-hungry widows…I told her that I had to reserve judgment until I researched the story more. Basically, what I gleaned from news snips and our own conversation was that Ann Coulter believed it to be unfair that the 9/11 widows could hide safely from attack behind the emotional barrier surrounding them simply because their spouses were killed in the tragedy. Coulter’s point, I believe, was this: Don’t throw yourself out there to become political forces and then duck back into the emotional green zone every time somebody questions your arguments/cause.

On the surface, I can see Coulter’s point if this is the issue. My colleague believes it is okay to use appeal to emotion in an argument, and I don’t disagree. I do believe, however, that the use of that appeal to emotion is then fair game to refute if the other party decides to put it on the table. This, I believe, is what Coulter was attempting to do.

The problem with Ann, though, is that she is so rude and sarcastic that the argument jumps the tracks entirely, and we are left with Matt Lauer specials filled with questions that focus on what Ann was thinking when she wrote such outrageous statements, instead of focusing on the reasoning behind her original claims that the 9/11 widows shouldn’t be able to hide behind the emotional curtain.

The other problem with Ann is this:

First, the 9/11 widows use appeal to emotion to have their arguments heard.

Second, Ann Coulter responds with her own appeal to emotion slanders.

Third, Matt Lauer and others respond to Coulter’s appeal to emotion to have her arguments heard.

Fourth (and here’s the point): When Matt Lauer informs her that they never told her that she can’t respond to them, Coulter says, “Look, you’re getting testy with me.”

And that’s it, right there. Ann, the problem with you is you always want the last punch. You need to be able to play by the same rules that you complain others don’t play by. If the gloves are off with using appeal to emotion, suck it up and keep the train on the tracks. We’re all more interested in the battles fought on the field rather than those fought hiding behind any kind of barrier…

By the way, the 9/11 widows responded formally to Coulter’s claims. and their statement is reprinted here (it first appeared at crooksandliars.com). …. Read the rest of this entry »