my guess is as good as yours.
I am not a “Self-Help” person.
I generally bypass that whole part of the bookstore — in part because I always think Tony Robbins is going to leap off a book and bite me, and in part because my mom told me that Secrets were bad.
But at the heart of it, something about the language, or the promotional strategies, or the packaging of the obvious as mysterious, or nothing in particular as ultimately crucial… well, it gets to me.
When I express that to people, they often say, “Well, that’s just because YOU don’t want it, or it’s obvious to YOU. But different people need different things, and learn different ways.”
And I get that, I do.
But I was always better at learning by watching, and then doing — not by being told that I could accomplish a certain thing if I went about it a certain way. I would rather work alongside someone than read the guide they put together to help me do their job.
That’s probably why I believe that leading and teaching by example are two of the most powerful things any of us can do. And not even by saying, “Here’s how I do it!” but just… well, doing it. And letting people do it with you if they want.
This was a lesson driven home time and time again when I worked with kids.
You could take a megaphone and give instructions for a game, and about 10% of the kids would start the game knowing what to do. If you brought two staff members or two kids up and had them demonstrate the game, about 30% more would feel equipped to start.
But the only way the rest of them would learn is to run alongside another staff member or kid playing the game properly, and do exactly what they did.
When I was responsible for hiring my staff, I would try and figure out who were the megaphone people, who were the demo people, and who were the ones who liked to run alongside the kids in the field.
There would be a place for all of them, of course — but the ones that built the best relationships with the kids were the ones who taught less, and did more. Why?
Because when it came time for them to offer some sort of a lesson, their ability to model it made their words that much more likely to sink in. And more importantly, the words rarely became necessary. The model was more compelling.
They became the lessons they intended to teach.
This has been the most challenging thing for me as a writer.
I’m charged with articulating instructions and ideas for people in situations where words HAVE to be enough to get the idea across, or just asking them to do something… well, it gets things done.
I can’t necessarily step in and provide an example — all I can do is give them the tools.
I suppose that’s what self-help authors are trying to do, too, but the thing that rings so false to me is the level of promise that they give people, if only they would follow the right instructions, or check off tasks on a list, or simply believe something was possible.
But I can tell you all the right things and there’s a good chance you’ll still get it utterly wrong… like me with a set of IKEA instructions and an Allen key.
You might even get it wrong and think you did it right…. like me and dating for about 15 years.
Essentially, it sucks to issue directions when you’re a person who learns by example.
But it does make me think very hard about the way I give directions and the language I use… and the results I promise in the end.
I don’t want to make hard things sound too easy, or make a learning curve seem too flat, because I know that will just end up frustrating whoever has to take on that challenge. If it took me two years to understand it, I’m not going to expect you to get it in two days. And hell, you might figure out a better way to do it than I do. I’m just telling you what’s worked for me.
That, in turn, has had a huge impact on the way I write here, in this space, where I am not working, where I am being Meg.
I used to write blog posts about my life with a beginning, a middle, and an end. With a “what I learned” end, to boot. And I used to do it even when I hadn’t totally learned that lesson, or when I’d be leaving a lot of bumps in the road out of the story, or when nothing was as clean or linear as I made it sound. But I figured that was good writing — do A, and B happens, for better or for worse.
Simple, right?
As if.
Which is why when I get emails from women wondering what to do with news of their infertility, or people struggling with weight issues and body image, or emails from people wondering how to work professionally as a writer, or people wondering how the heck to deal with long distance relationships, I’m like… uh.
Did I make it sound like I had a clue what I was doing?
Shit.
Now I’m trying to figure out how to “write my example” — how just to be, and let you figure out if there’s anything to learn from my experiences and the stuff that I go through all by yourself. There might not be a damn thing.
Because I don’t know if I’m getting it right. I don’t have a blueprint. And half the time the things I think of as victories were pretty laden with mistakes, and vice versa. And as far as the conclusions that I’ve drawn about my life thus far?
I’ve reversed more judgments than the Supreme Court.
So here it is — I dunno.
All I can really do is be my best, try my hardest, and be as honest as humanly possible about how it all goes down… and leave it at that.
Which is probably why this post doesn’t have an ending.
June 2nd, 2009 at 2:24 pm
Good post, Meg. I like what you came to (and yes, you did come to something) but I must disagree to some extent on the self-help books. It wasn’t until I needed one myself that I saw their value. Before that I was with you in thinking they were all a bunch of hooey. Don’t read about getting better, just get better!
BUT, then I was at a point where I couldn’t just help myself. There was no one to learn by example from. Not even therapy could help. And then I picked up this book called “Making Peace with Food”. The author seemed to know exactly what I had been through. And about halfway through the book and the exercises, she answered my question which was: how do I let this (obsession) go?
And the answer was so simple: when you’re ready, you just will. And I just did. After that I stopped needing the book and I did make my peace with food. (Then I just had the depression to deal with…). But anyways, self help books? Not all bad.
June 2nd, 2009 at 2:56 pm
All we can do is know our own experiences, I guess.:)
I think the kind of book you’re talking about is a lot different than the stuff I am put off by, though. It’s HUGE promises that bug me, or easy fixes, or “This worked for me, it WILL work for you” stuff — I don’t think your book or your realization fits that template at all.:)
June 2nd, 2009 at 9:09 pm
I look at the self-help books from time to time, buy them once in a while, and mostly get nothing from them. I think, if anything, the self-help books help because they make you realize you aren’t alone. I find that the ones that do help–ones I’ve read about being a motherless daughter, for example, help because they’re more or less a collection of anecdotes–and seeing/hearing someone else’s story helps put mine in perspective.
When I taught, I was one of those teachers that was dedicated to experiential learning. I wanted my kids to dive in and get dirty–while I was their guide and mirror. I was the one being brave first, and they’d follow me in–but I wouldn’t let them fall off the deep-end. For me, that’s what teaching is: taking the risk for your kids–making the things you’ve learned safe to be experienced on a small scale. Ultimately, though, I found that my kids were terrified–were told time and time again that they knew nothing. So, at every turn, they’d look for reassurance from me–for more guidance than they needed. And the hardest thing of all for me to learn was that, even when I had all the answers, it was better for me to withhold them sometimes.
Because, ultimately, we already know. I can fool myself into thinking I don’t…that I need some guidance for what to do. But, really, the only expert on my life is me. The only person who can answer the question in the way that makes the most sense to me is me. All a teacher can do is give me enough rope to hang myself with. And, even if I don’t get it at first, eventually I will. It may just take me years to realize that I’m ready. As soon as I convince myself of that, it’ll happen.
This reminds me of when I was a little kid. I was never athletically inclined and was always the last one picked. I had asthma, was uncoordinated and overweight. I hated gym with a passion. And, one day, my teacher told me to jump over a pole. I had seen people do it a million times before. And I didn’t think I could. I tried a few times to do it and, of course, failed miserbly. Then, one day, I stopped caring. I was sure I would fall down. I was sure that I’d get dirt all over myself. And then, I said to myself, “It doesn’t matter.” And so, I jumped….and didn’t fall down. I set a class record that day, too.
June 3rd, 2009 at 5:15 pm
I like this. I like it a lot.
June 4th, 2009 at 6:44 am
I have a couple philosophies on this.
First, people that write books are generally much more organized in their thinking and easily more driven than me, or they’d never have the gumption to write a book. If I were ever to write a self-help book it would be titled “How not to write a self-help book”. But that’s just me. Which brings me to my next philosophy.
I’m just me and you’re just you. I’ve never spent one second of my life being anyone but me. I grew up with six siblings who sat around the same dinner table, did the same chores (alternately, of course), ate the same meals, had the same parents who gave us all similar parenting and yet we are all very different from each other. We are all, as humans, very different from each other. I can only ascertain what I know of you through MY grid and who am I to say for certain that I’m even close to accurate in my gleanings. So, when asked for advice or judgments, I always lead with, “Nothing is for sure, and I surely am not an expert, and I’ve never been you, but this sorta worked for me…” Because truly, who am I to give concrete answers to a very different soul? Unless of course it’s Portland Cement you’re talking about.
June 4th, 2009 at 10:32 am
John, I can tell you from experience, most of the people writing self-help books (and Dummies books, and a lot of non fiction) aren’t the people who actually wrote those books. I’ve edited portions of two in the past year that the “author” didn’t touch until after final draft.
Driven, maybe. But organized? Nah, editors are the organized ones.:)
June 5th, 2009 at 6:24 pm
Oh,yes.
I call them “shelf-help books” because they end up on the shelf.
The thing is, everyone’s experience is different. (Duh!) So one person’s process that works for them and maybe for a few clients becomes a book - but that doesn’t mean it’s going to work for everyone.
But then the people who buy the book feel like they’re wrong because it doesn’t work for them. And, like, hey, the author is an EXPERT, after all.
Yeah. In the end, as you say, it’s just about being. As you say in your example of teaching, it’s about living what you want to teach.
That’s the best teaching of all!