Why Great Writing Leaves Room for the Reader

Wake-Up Call #31

Photo: Devon Albeit Photography

A few months back, I had the pleasure of hosting the poet and author,

Maggie Smith

, as my guest on the Good Life Project podcast.

I felt like taking notes the whole time, but one moment early in the conversation caught me.

Maggie shares:

As a writer, regardless of the genre I’m working in, I’m always thinking about how not to close every window and door, to leave some openings for the reader to get in. Because really, a piece of writing isn’t finished, and I think this is true of music, too, it isn’t finished until it has a reader or a listener. We are participating and sort of co-creating this thing. I make it and I hand it to you, and then you bring all of your life experience and emotional intelligence and associations to bear on the thing I handed you, and it becomes something different in your hands than it was when it was just me doing it by myself. And if I’ve sewn everything up so tightly that you can’t find a way in, it’s sort of like I’m not really holding up my end of the bargain.

In the late 2000s, one of my blogging mentors, Liz Strauss, shared a similar sentiment. I was maybe a year into the practice, building a nice audience, but noticed people rarely ever commented. I asked her for advice. She told me I wasn’t giving people enough space to not only be moved by what I’d written, but also feel like they had something unique to add to the conversation. In a weird way, the posts were “overly complete.”

I was so focused on trying to button up every point and sub-point, anticipate gaps in my reasoning and pre-address them, and make the piece both compelling and defensible, I left no room for the writing, or the idea, to breathe. To be expanded upon. To be made personal. To land in a way that was real and relevant to them. And, if inclined, share what that looked and felt like.

I didn’t realize what I was really doing was, like Maggie said, sewing everything up so tightly that people couldn’t find a way in. I was trying to keep it mine, not realizing the magic happens when it becomes ours.

Why would I do this?

I think, in part, it was my earlier training in law. I was taught to be thorough, to do exhaustive research, anticipate potential flaws and arguments, and address them in the brief, before they were raised by opposing counsel, or the judge. Practicing law is often more about preventing loss than fueling possibility.

But, another part was just straight-up ego. The relentless quest for status.

I wanted to be seen as someone with a certain “command” over ideas and insights, as a deep-thinker (lol) whose expression was worthy of respect. I wanted people to think I had some level of authority, credibility, and skill (whether I did or not, totally different question).

Of course, I never entirely grew out of that headspace. None of us will.

Many years later, I’m getting a bit closer to knowing a thing, maybe even two. But at a certain point, I also began to realize how little I’m truly certain of. How many more questions I have than answers. And, how much more joyful the process of creation and inquiry is when you plant ideas, share enough of a foundation, maybe a framework to think more clearly, a pathway to feel more truly, a story to be stepped into, then invite people to engage with them in a way that allows the ideas to become whatever works for them.

It’s not unusual now for me to be writing, then think of a few examples or stories, or maybe related tangents or complements and, instead of addressing them, intentionally leave them out.

Why? Because it’s fun to create the space for others (you, maybe?) to share your takes, and fill in the gaps in a way that makes it more personal, resonant, and collaborative. To allow for expansion and betterment of an idea through the process of co-creation, rather than proclamation.

Thing is, this isn’t just about writing. It’s about life.

In most things where some opportunity exists to truly shape our individual and shared futures, the process benefits so much more from a different approach.

What if we offered something (could even be your heart) in a way that is as close to truth as possible, hold loose the reigns, and let others in to add to it, remix it, and let it land in their hearts and mind in the way that feels most right for them.

This is the ultimate act of creation and connection.

Or, is it?

Curious, what’s your take?

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By the way, if you’re curious, here’s the full conversation with Maggie.

Or you can click here to play it on your favorite app.

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With a whole lotta love & gratitude,

Jonathan

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Wake-Up Call #31 | Leaving space for others.

Is there somewhere in your life where you’re holding so tightly onto control and the need to button everything down and be seen in a certain way that you’re not creating an opportunity to let others contribute to, engage with, reshape, or adopt an idea to make it relevant and resonant for them?

Or, is there something you’ve wanted to write or say or share, where you’ve hesitated because you either want to keep it as yours, or you’re concerned about how it might land? Not realizing, creation is, in no small part, also surrender?

What might happen if you let it loose into the world?

And, instead of trying to lock down every conceivable way it might land, intentionally open yourself to the myriad of ways others might receive and shape it and contribute to it in a way that allows not just for deeper relevance and resonance?

Think about it, walk with it, feel into it. Then, if you’re inclined, share your thoughts in the comments.