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 self-

described 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.