On great writing, limerence, and Volodymyr Zelenskyy's ongoing masterclass in both
I hope all of us are taking notes from this guy while he emerges as one of the most effective and affecting writers in modern history.
Although it’s hardly the most important part of this crisis, the past five days have really shown us what effective writing looks like—and what it doesn’t.
An essay in Jezebel made me super mad yesterday. Said essay excoriated American women for tweeting and TikToking about their newfound crushes on Volodymyr Zelenskyy, Ukraine’s prime minister.
Don’t you know war is serious? was the polemical gist. Don’t you know that lots of actual people are dying? That publicly crushing on a leader is not the same thing as helping his people? What is wrong with you? And PS, don’t you all remember when you publicly crushed on Andrew Cuomo in the early days of the pandemic, and then he turned out to be a terrible person?? 1
This essay enraged me not just because it was wrong, but because it had the gall to remind me of the writer I was 15-20 years ago. OK, maybe also 10 years ago. Maybe into my early thirties. Maybe I’m still shaking off similar bad-writing tendencies now, age nearly 37. Retch. How dare.
Scolding is easy and fun. It’s gratifying to convince myself of my own moral superiority. Supreme self-belief feels like safety in times of external upheaval, and it certainly makes an easier stance from which to write a cohesive argument, if not a terribly original one.
The problem is that scolding is also immature, premised on ego and/or general ignorance about human nature. The truth is that human beings don’t do supercilious things. Or they do, I guess, but the ornamental plants in our metaphorical fields have root systems just as complex and deep as the fruits and vegetables, if you know what I mean.
It’s slow and exhausting to approach everything and everyone we encounter with maturity—a stance that requires open-minded curiosity and humility at all times. I would venture to say it’s impossible for anyone to pull off 100% of the time. But boy do we learn so much more about the world when we approach it maturely. We also write much, much more interesting and effective stories about it. Humble, reality-based writing grounds and transforms readers in ways a hot take never could.
To illustrate my point, look no further than Zelenskyy, a man on whom I 100% have a crush now, too.
In just five days, Zelenskyy has emerged as perhaps the most effective political communicator in modern history. The reason for that is the deadly seriousness with which he takes humor, kindness, and love—all types of love.
In just one five-minute teleconference the other day, Zelenskyy managed to upend all of post-WWII European history, transforming the EU into a rallied, cohesive global superpower.
Literally five minutes. It’s just. Wow. The dizzying hope of that! The terror! The reality that one person can change so much so quickly through effective communication! That we actually live in such a world!
Do you know why his words were so effective? Intimacy. They were intimate, gentle, and vulnerable. Instead of bluster about principle and patriotism, he begged the leaders of Europe to speak to him honestly and directly. He reminded them that he is probably going to die in this conflict, and yeah, he still probably is. He reminded them how infinitely precious and important they were to him and Ukraine as people—individual people with hearts, not just figureheads with important titles.
This is the core of effective communication: intimacy. And because this is a publishing newsletter, I will now unpack what intimacy looks like in terms of writing craft.