How to Talk Normal and Good
How to Talk Normal and Good
We are cave people.
Steve Martin, like most creatives, failed to connect with people in his early development. Classic story: dad didn’t praise and girlfriends didn’t stick. So, like most creatives, he hoped adoring fans would fill that void.
So, he spent a lonely decade screaming esoteric formal logic jokes with a prop arrow through his head, to a smattering of light chuckles.
Here’s my favorite:
1) Babies are illogical.
2) Nobody is despised who can manage a crocodile.
3) Illogical persons are despised.
Therefore, babies cannot manage crocodiles.
Ten years is a long time to suffer for your art, alone.
I mean, imagine a man who, say, got stuck in a cave for ten years. He has nobody to talk to—crouched near a body of water, and oh, I don’t know, devouring raw fish (like many of you).
Naturally, he misses the company of people. So, he thinks of all the things he will say once he gets out. Stories to impress. Big emotions. The loveliness of the dark lake or the taste of raw fish! He craves to be impressive and darling. In his mind, he is captivating the attention of his imagined audience. This shadow-play begins to feel real.
And then, he manages to exit the cave. Stage lights blind him as he emerges into the world. He has so much pent-up to say. So much hope.
He starts talking—blasting information, really. Shouting lines he's memorized, jerky body language, unable to listen and respond in real time. He too-quickly spouts everything he was so sure would be killer material. People only respond with a meek "okay," a recoil.
In self-pity, he goes back to the cave. Maybe to prepare some new and better lines? This time, he’s not stuck there—he just needs some space to think.
You know what? Maybe humanity doesn’t deserve his depth of thought and feeling. Some people, he thinks, just say whatever pops into their head and people love it. Morons. They didn’t ruminate on it for ten years, even. They don’t know anything about beauty.
The hard truth is, he can sometimes admit, the sludge coming out of his pipes is not received as gold because it isn’t. But going back to talking to himself in the cave isn’t going to fix it. The only thing to do is to keep blabbing until the sludge turns again to pure, clear water.
So, he stifles the self-pity and resentment, like vomit at first. Slowly, he is able to accept that it wasn’t everyone else’s fault. He was just an awkward cave person who forgot how to talk.
He keeps going, somehow. One day, the years in the cave seem redeemed. One day, he looks around and everyone is talking funny like him and wearing prop arrows. Excuseee me!
He got the best of both worlds: the depth of a person who had been stuck in a cave and the ease of being someone normal. It only took a decade of being seen as, um, “interesting.”
So, keep creating long before it sounds normal or good. One day, maybe, it will.
Have a good weekend.
“The hard truth is, he can sometimes admit, the sludge coming out of his pipes is not received as gold because it isn’t. But going back to talking to himself in the cave isn’t going to fix it. The only thing to do is to keep blabbing until the sludge turns again to pure, clear water.”
An important idea for me is that an unused tap will haltingly spew and spurt rusty water until the aging pipe runs clear allowing a strong, fresh stream. Practice and patience.
I remember many of my friends in late 70s Southern California didn't actually understand Steve Martin's jokes, but the smart people they knew had all told them he was hilarious, so they all piled on, repeating his jokes, without any understanding of what Steve was getting at. But the money was flowing by that point, and Steve was on his way!