Welcome to Monday Mastery, a series designed to shift your perspective, teach you new techniques, and help you become a more effective writer, one tip at a time.
My husband, who is an avid reader, was completely thrown when I explained to him there is a difference between a hyphen, an em-dash and an en-dash. “Wait, there are different kinds of dashes?”
My almost-10-year-old daughter was blown away when I introduced her to young-adult paranormal fantasy books. I knew that genre would match her tastes perfectly at this stage in her life, but she had no idea it existed. Now she’s obsessed. I’ve never seen her read so much, so fast.
A founder once begged me to tell them how I took their article — one they had worked on for a solid week — and made it so much more readable. I explained that I simply imagined we were writing it to their next door neighbor.
I live and breathe writing. I have for most of my life. So what is brand new and astonishing to other people is “common sense” to me.
We all have something in our lives we know a ridiculous amount about — our profession, a hobby, a sport, a city, whatever — that is brand new information to most people.
But we don’t always realize it.
It’s like a fish not knowing it’s in water. We’re so used to the subject, and having depth of understanding about it, we’re amazed when it’s new information to someone else.
When you are growing yourself as a communicator, especially if you are developing a writing practice or building a personal brand through thought leadership, these “fish-water” subjects can be endless sources of inspiration.
The other day, I was in conversation with a senior leader of a biotech company. We were trading expertise — his being rare disease advocacy and mine being written communication. At the start of the call, he was advising me on possible next steps for the Heart of PPA2 advocacy organization I am involved in. As he spoke, I felt like I was learning an entirely new language from him — the language of science fundraising. He used phrases like patients and caregivers, and drug formulation and controlled study — all words I could understand in context, but are not part of my everyday lexicon.
His fish-water subject was the science angle of rare disease advocacy.
He was clearly an expert, and someone I could continue to look to to better understand the world I’m entering as we build this organization into something that could someday help children like mine. I felt overwhelmed by the task at hand, but I knew without a doubt he would be a resource I could lean on.
Then when we switched gears to talk about his personal communication goals, I mentioned that a good way to find your area of focus is to find the middle of the Venn diagram between your passion and your expertise. His fish-water subject was right there, smack in the middle. “Why not build your focus around advising people like me, who are new to rare disease advocacy and feeling unsure what steps to take and in what order?” I suggested.
I truly believe that most of us have a fish-water subject that’s worth sharing with the world.
My neighbor up the hill is a former teacher, and I learn so much from her about how to help my children learn.
A pastor at my church makes biblical concepts crystal clear to children without dumbing them down.
My brother can build a computer from spare parts, and doesn’t understand why anyone would buy a laptop off the shelf from Best Buy.
A new friend I met when our children befriended each other in school is the most talented landscape photographer I’ve ever seen, and I love to pick her brain about how she gets some of those breathtaking shots (my landscape photos just don’t hold a candle, even though we use the same type of camera).
All of these people have a treasure trove of insight they could share with the world if they ever set their mind to it.
YOU have a fish-water subject too, I guarantee it. Are you using it to inspire your writing? Tell me about it in the comments. I love hearing these stories!