Let’s Talk Small Talk.

Today, I’m playing with a new format where I answer questions that have either been emailed, asked in interviews, or shouted out on the street. If you have a question you’d like me to answer, hit reply.

Question:

“How can I avoid small talk? I can’t stand it. I just want to discuss the meaning of life!

How can I have more meaningful conversations and escape the small-talk?”

What’s the deal with small talk? It’s not small. There’s no size to it. What is the deal?

I hear about this self-proclaimed allergy to, “small-talk” more and more. That uninspiring, blah-blah used to pass the time at dinner parties. No one likes getting caught in monotonous chatter, but in its defense, let’s explore the role of dialogue in both life and writing.

First, consider that without a few minutes of low-stakes chit-chat, deep questions tend to produce shallow answers. Topics like, “What is the meaning of life?” tend to push people into their memory and out of the present moment. For the plot (or a good conversation) to move forward, tension needs to rise (not appear).

Writers and exotic dancers know: Gradual discovery is better than one big, sudden reveal.

And the best writers know that, regardless of what’s said, words always fall short in capturing the whole truth.

Unless your Oscar Wilde, the most profound moments of communication aren’t going to come out of your mouth. How your date treats the server will be more telling than what he says about his mother. You could ask how old she was when her parents split. Or, watch her face when the father at the coffee shop throws his tiny daughter into the air and onto his shoulders.

In journalism, a story is never told via quotations. Headlines and a narrator deliver the facts, while eye-witness dialogue is used as window dressing. “I can’t believe it attacked him, right there at the dinner table. He really loved that alligator…”

And in fiction, dialogue should never be used to advance the plot. We might hear the Good Witch tell Dorothy to follow the yellow brick road, but it’s watching her ruby slippers walk along that keeps us engaged.

Dialogue can be decorative. “A martini. Shaken, not stirred.” A response to rising tension. “Mrs. Robinson, you’re trying to seduce me.” It can hint at a character’s intentions. “I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.” Or, deliver that sudden moment of clarity. “Wait, you guys are getting paid?”

Good conversation, like written dialogue, should reveal. Not explain.

The Meaning of Life is a boring conversation because its goal is to explain something that can’t (and shouldn’t) be explained. In both life and writing, a vague truism will always be more memorable than a well-rehearsed explanation. “Mamma always said life is like a box of chocolates.”

Spending the last month in Spain with a limited vocabulary, I was also reminded: Language is not our first language.

The body tells stories through unconscious mannerisms. Fictional characters, like real people, have arms and eyes. Wrinkles in their forehead and tension in their jaw. Good writers use these details. Good communicators notice them.

If you think you hate small talk, remember: All communication communicates something. And that something is usually greater than the sum of its syllables and vowels. The human condition lives in the space between the notes. Long-winded vulnerability has its benefits, but profound feelings don’t always need to be discussed at length. “You had me at hello.”

The next time you find yourself stuck in a small-talk-safe space, consider asking the small-talker what they had for breakfast. It might reveal more about them than their thoughts on the universe. Interesting details are born out of monotonous topics for those who can pull a thread.

Finally, to bridge the gap between small talk and deep conversation, focus on the plot. Like a good character on the page, anchor your dialogue within the context of the room before branching out to timeless questions on mortality.

What’s happening around you? What’s worth commenting on? Where in God’s name is that smell coming from? Notice the gestures, expressions, and action happening beyond the banter. Find the tornado that can take you from small-talk Kansas to the colorful land of Oz.

Remember that language is lubricant. Small talk is foreplay. Like a good lover, a good conversationalist knows: There’s no rush.

Besides, even Dorothy chose Kansas in the end.

Do you have a favorite ice-breaker? A question that takes small-talk to medium talk? Reply with your favorite dinner-party opener and I’ll share my favorites next week.

And if you have a question or topic you’d like me to explore, send it along. I reply to every email.

The Temperature is a bit chilly, but things are looking brighter each and every day!