Writers as Human Hoovers - Andrew Crofts
“You’re like a human Hoover ,” my wife
complained as we drove home from the dinner party. “That poor woman…”
“What poor woman?” I truly didn’t
know what she was talking about. I had been basking in the afterglow of what I
thought had been a pleasant evening out.
“The one you were cross examining
about her love life.”
“I wasn’t cross examining her,” I
protested, “I just pressed the button and everything poured out. She was a
human Nespresso machine.”
“You do it all the time. You’re
like the Spanish Inquisition. Some people like to preserve a little privacy,
you know.”
She was right, of course, I do it all the time, but in my experience
most people love talking about themselves, and those who don’t pretty quickly
clam up or tell me to mind my own business. It was a secret I learned at the
age of seventeen when I was heading for London
in search of streets paved with gold with virtually no social skills at all.
How, I wondered as I watched those
around me socialising with apparent ease, did people find things to talk about to
strangers at parties? How did you find things to say to young women on first dates?
(Bearing in mind that my early romantic education had come from the regency
novels of my mother’s Georgette Heyer collection, since when I had been
incarcerated in single sex boarding schools). The adult world seemed a
daunting, if exciting, place and I was desperate to discover the secret of all
the grown-ups who seemed so self-confident in every social situation.
In my search for a magic formula I
came across “How to Win Friends and Influence People” by Dale Carnegie. The book
had been written in 1936, so was already more than thirty years old and more than
forty years later I can still remember the key message. Mr Carnegie explained
that virtually everyone loves to talk about themselves and about their pet
subjects. If you keep asking them questions they will keep answering them and
the more they talk the more material you have for follow-up questions. The vast
majority of people will come away from the conversation thinking you are the
most charming and interesting person in the world, even if they have not asked
you a single question about yourself, (and it is my experience that a shocking
number of people will fall silent the moment you stop asking the questions,
even at private dinner tables where you would assume they wanted to be polite).
For a self-conscious teenager setting
out to enter the adult world this one piece of advice was priceless, for
someone wanting to make a living as an author and ghostwriter it has proved
invaluable.
Over the years it has become such
an ingrained habit that there is more than a little truth in my wife’s fear
that the technique can be intimidating for those who might be unused to talking
about themselves. Of course it should be applied with some sensitivity, but at
the same time there are so many questions which are so fascinating they are
irresistible, even if they are considered impertinent: How much do you earn?
Why did you divorce your husband? Are you having an affair with that man over
there? Why do you suppose your children hate you? …. It’s amazing how many
people reward straight questions with extremely full and revealing answers.
Comments
I'll answer any question I'm asked - I may lie through my teeth, but sounds will come out - but I never know how to reciprocate with questions. I feel, probably wrongly, that if anyone wants to tell me something they'll just tell me. So I probably come across as rude and uninterested.
I guess that's why people talk about the weather. It's possibly the only non-controversial topic.
And Jo is so right about cultural sensitivity. One of the earliest things I learned in Zimbabwe was the value of the silent question.