Writing vs. Speaking
At a recent client meeting I casually mentioned that writing is “a different language” than speaking. My client agreed as if it were an obvious truth, and we went on to talk about other things. It was only after the meeting broke up and I was driving home that I stopped to reflect on what we’d both accepted so easily. Is writing really a different language than speaking? English is English, right? If I say, “The ball rolled down the hill,” do I communicate something vastly different when I write the same sentence? Do you receive a totally different message when you read it as opposed to hearing it?
It’s a fair question. But I stand by my original statement.
I’ve seen this phenomenon in action. Several of my best clients are terrific public speakers. They can light up a room with their personal charisma, and from their opening remarks they have audiences hanging on their every word. But their writing is no match for their speaking. Now, these people don’t suddenly lose their marbles when they sit down to write. They don’t forget all their captivating stories or their gripping message. But they find themselves in a different world, facing a virtual audience instead of a live one. Hands must replace the voice. The rules of the game have changed.
What makes writing such a different skill set from speaking? Here a couple of the main points that occur to me:
Inflection. How many times have you been accused of sounding angry or hurt or sarcastic in an email when you thought you were simply communicating? Chances are, if your friend had heard you say those same words, your emotional state would never have been misinterpreted. No wonder emoticons are so popular — they’ve probably saved many a friendship!
Writing requires a very skilled and subtle use of emotional cues — end a sentence a bit too abruptly, and you may “sound” curt or indifferent; add one too many exclamation points, and you may seem enraged instead of enthusiastic. A writer has to learn this emotional vocabulary, just as an actor or public speaker has to learn the many shadings of tone and pitch that bring color to his performances.
Inflection applies to body English as well. A speaker’s stance and gestures can communicate as deeply as his words. In writing, the words have to carry the full load.
Pace. Time plays out differently in the written world than in the spoken world. I’m no speed reader, but I know I read much faster than normal people talk. Examine your own reading habits sometime — do you go word by word, or do you scan big globs at a time in a flash? Now imagine those words being spoken at the same speed you just read them. It’d be like listening to a recording on fast-forward — you’d hardly be able to make it out. Yet that’s how people receive written information, especially on the Internet, where speed-browsing has become a way of life.
(That’s one of the great challenges of writing web content, by the way — hitting the reader with exactly what he’s looking for so quickly that he stops in mid-browse to read on.)
Spoken communication relies on linear time as a communication tool. The dramatic pause, the sudden leap forward, or the slow drawl all add dramatic punch a speech. Written communication uses tempo changes as well, but the total effect still exists in a compressed time zone.
There are other differences between speaking and writing, to be sure. Maybe I’ll expand on the subject in a future article, or maybe you’d like to contribute your own insights. I’d keep going, but my throat is getting tired….