TUE
Something happened today.
I realized I trusted understatement more than impact.
I was preparing material for Jody and caught myself thinking about how I wanted her to feel after reading it. Part of me wanted the dramatic response: What the hell just happened?
But I did not want to manufacture that reaction.
Do not go for impact.
Understate it.
Let the facts do the speaking.
That became another reporting principle and, oddly enough, another personal one.
When you have been hurt, there is a temptation to make sure the listener understands how much. Add adjectives. Build the case emotionally. Make the other person feel the weight.
Sometimes that is necessary. Human beings are not court transcripts.
But there is power in saying exactly what happened and trusting the listener to have a nervous system.
The strongest fact does not need a spotlight if the room is already dark enough to see it.
This also protects accuracy. The more I try to force the reader toward a reaction, the more likely I am to stop seeing the thing cleanly myself.
I want the story to be strong because the story is strong.
Not because I shouted.
That does not mean writing without feeling.
It means respecting the reader enough not to do all the feeling for them.
Invitation again.
Here is what happened.
Come look.
