How to Write and Speak to Ensure Others Care (Lessons from Roy Kent and Seth Godin)
Isaac McAdoo did a bad thing. Of course, it helps that Isaac McAdoo is not a real person and neither was the person to whom he did the bad thing.
Let me explain (he says, mimicking a transition line social media posters needlessly use after an opening hook, since the inclusion of any subsequent words implies the explanation).
Isaac McAdoo is a character from Ted Lasso, a show beloved by lots of Americans even though it's about two things most Americans hate: soccer and kindness. (That's a joke from Jason Sedeikis, who plays the titular Ted. And yes, this was an excuse to hear the wonderful phrase "titular Ted" in my head.)
("Titular Ted in my head" is also quite delightful.)
Anywho, in one episode of the show, captain Isaac gets ejected from the game after approaching a fan in the stands. Naturally, the media at the postgame press conference want answers, but in a surprising twist, the coach who arrives isn't the titular Ted. Instead, from the locker room snarls Roy Kent, the perpetually surly, F-bomb-dropping former player, now coach.
"Do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did?" asked the press.
"What a stupid f*cking question," he said. "Course we don't. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card."
"Okay," replies the journalist. "So why'd he do it?"
Roy looks down, laughs, and shakes his head. He glances back at the journalist, almost in disbelief.
It's here that he's reached the same decision point we all reach, yet he makes a better choice than most of us.
Roy can't believe that this journalist can't see what he sees. Roy gets it. He has the knowledge, the experience. Roy is at the END of the journey to understand.
So are you. Whatever you sell, whatever you teach, whatever projects or premises you are sharing with the world, YOU are already at the END of that journey to understand. But you know who isn't?
Everyone else.
Your audience.
The people you're there to empower, inspire, and resonate with on such a deep level, they feel the urge to act: subscribe, buy, share, and CARE.
But we don't do what Roy did. So what did he do? The same thing Seth Godin did on the podcast of Tim Ferriss back in 2016.
The author and digital marketing pioneer must be asked this often, given he's now written more than 20 books, many of which have been bestsellers, plus a daily blog amassing an email list of more than 1 million subscribers. But Tim has a close relationship to Seth, so he asked it anyway:
"What does your writing warm-up look like, and when do you typically write?"
I could easily imagine Seth reacting like Roy: look down, laugh, shake head, glance back at the host, almost in disbelief. But that's not what Seth Godin does. Although the recording was in audio only, I could picture Seth's face as clearly as if on camera. He smiled politely, looked straight ahead, and respondent calmly and confidently:
Seth Godin: Okay, now I need to tell you about Stephen King’s pencil.
Tim Ferriss: Yes, please.
Seth Godin: Because I feel very strongly about this. Stephen King often goes to writers’ conferences ... and inevitably, someone raises their hand and says, “Stephen King, you’re one of the most successful, revered writers of your generation. What kind of pencil do you use?”
I won’t go there. It doesn’t matter. It’s a way to hide. It’s not interesting to me to talk about how I do it because there’s no correlation that I have ever encountered between how writers write and how good their work is. So you should just move on because it doesn’t matter.
[ ... ]
You and I could list 25 tricks that help us get past the resistance and start the flow of writing. But that’s different than saying, "I need to do it like those other people do it."
Tim Ferriss: Agreed. I guess in the buffet of things that have been helpful along those lines, if for whatever reason – didn’t get a good night’s sleep, feeling off, you sit down to write.
Seth Godin: Right. This is easy. The answer to this question is write. Write poorly. Continue writing poorly. Write poorly until it’s not bad anymore and then you’ll have something you can use. People who have trouble coming up with good ideas, if they’re telling you the truth, will tell you they don’t [generate enough] bad ideas. But people who have plenty of good ideas, if they’re telling you the truth, will say they have even more bad ideas [than other people]. So the goal isn’t to get good ideas; the goal is to get bad ideas. Because once you get enough bad ideas, then some good ones have to show up.
Seth Godin is not a movie star. He's not surrounded by hair and makeup professionals.
Your favorite author, or podcaster, or business leader is not waiting in their trailer for the crew to call them to set, so they can deliver lines with the safety net of re-takes.
YOU are not in a movie, and as much as I wish this wasn't the case, I am not the titular character or even a bit character in Ted Lasso.
Yet like Seth, we arrive every day to key moments that demand we rise to meet them with a story. But almost invariably, we choose the safe way out, the flat response. Instead of giving them something delicious to make a mental meal of our ideas, we give out overcooked, horribly dry Nothingburgers.
Blech.
Not Seth that day (nor most days, if you watch him work—or Ann Handley or Laura Gassner Otting or Simo Stolzoff or Andrew Davis or Rand Fishkin or Michelle Warner, all guests on How Stories Happen).
Seth could have responded gruffly, "Tim, it doesn't matter when or how I write. Move on." But he did something more generous AND more effective. He responded in story.
Roy Kent could have growled and answered like this, when asked why Isaac McAdoo angrily approached a fan in the stands:
"Just because you buy a ticket, doesn't give you the right to yell whatever abusive sh*t you want at footballers," followed by, "Why did he do what he did? That's none of my f*cking business!" Then he'd move on or storm out, having conveyed the message he wanted others to hear. And indeed, they would hear the words, but yanno what they wouldn't have done?
Understand.
There's a way to push your message on others, then there's a way to lead them to it. The first approach is you hoping they see what you see and care the way you care. The second approach ensures they actually do.
"Okay," replies the journalist to Roy. "So why'd he do it?"
Roy looks down, laughs, and shakes his head. He glances back at the journalist, almost in disbelief.
It's here that he's reached the same decision point we all reach, yet he makes a better choice than most of us.
He responds in story. In doing so, he ensures others more than hear his message. They understand.
When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team. Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid, so during training one day, I made a joke that, statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went f*cking nuts.
He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs. I couldn't play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that, no club would go near him.
Then in the summer, after I could breathe again, I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid f*cking joke. And he got to tell me (pauses) he and his wife had lost the baby (reporters quietly groan) a month before all that went down. He hadn't told anyone. Kept it all inside.
Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket, they've got the right to yell whatever abusive sh*t they want at footballers. But they're not just footballers. They're also people. And none of us know what is going on in each other's lives.
So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong (points to his chest) I give him love.
I have watched that moment from the show too many times to count. 20? 30? I wouldn't be surprised. The way he smiles then catches himself to form the right response. The way he leans back in the chair, and it quietly creaks. The timing of the music. The cadence of his response. The faces of the people as they listen, inspired.
It's such a powerful moment, but it's also a powerful lesson.
The difference between people hearing you and understanding you is meaning. Have you conveyed it? Have they internalized it? And the world's most effective method of conveying meaning is the story. There's a protagonist (Stephen King // Roy Kent // you). There's forward action (attending a conference, hearing a question, answering something surprising // making a joke, losing a fight, apologizing months later, learning the truth). But in addition to forward action, there's also meaning. It makes them feel. It opens them up and clears away resistance, and into that clearing goes your words. Otherwise, they just bounce off them, never sticking.
Seth Godin pivoted his Stephen King story to arrive at the meaning: The pencil doesn't matter. The morning routine doesn't matter. These are ways to hide, not correlated with how good the writing is. The way to write well is to write poorly, often. Come up with lots of bad ideas. Write lots of bad works. Good ideas and good work inevitably shine through.
Roy Kent also pivoted his teammate story to arrive at the meaning: Just because you buy a ticket doesn’t give you the right to yell anything abusive you want. These aren’t just footballers. They’re people, and we don’t know each others’ lives. Not really. So it doesn’t matter why he did what he did. It’s none of my business.
They each make the pivot slightly differently, but you start to use a phrase I like: "That's the thing about..."
(That's the thing about writing, it's not about the pencil or the morning routine. It's about writing. A lot. Poorly, with the intention of finding the good stuff.)
(That's the thing about fans. They think they can yell whatever abusive sh*t they want to footballers, but they're not just footballers, they're people. And none of us knows what's going on in each others' lives, and it's none of our business either.)
By remembering to use this phrase, even if you don't say it verbatim, you'll remember to arrive at the crucial pivot point between the story's action and its meaning. That's what ensures understanding with an audience, and THAT is why they'd care, and THAT is why they'd take whatever action that you seek from your audience to build your business or strengthen your cause.
Look, I get that your life is not a TV show or a film. There is no script and there are no re-takes. But there is your own creative practice and the reps you put in to develop your message, your IP, your stories. Seth's was a signature story, told dozens of times before, if not more. Roy's too, albeit if he weren't fictional, that story wouldn't be something he'd call a "signature" story so much as a powerful memory.
Find yours. Remember yours. DEVELOP yours. Because even though you're not acting in a show, it's worth learning to communicate like the star. Every single day, we encounter moments that demand more from us. We communicate with others constantly, and we want to do more than write or speak words AT them (then watch them bounce off). We want to write and speak to be understood, to show them something, to ensure they care. We have to meet those moments. Meet them with story.
We are handed dozens of opportunities every week to do just that. The next time you meet one, smile. Catch yourself. Form the right response. Notice the quiet creak in your chair. The timing of the music. The cadence of your response. The faces of the people as they listen.
Inspired.