Of late, we’ve been pondering intangible stuff.
Like authenticity, truthfulness, honesty, and so on.
And figuring out how, exactly, it relates to what we do.
This millennium’s writers are similarly obsessed, whether it has to do with temptation or excess or authenticity. Our wonderment, though, concerns less of the weighty observations (i.e., ‘what’s the world coming to?’ ‘where did we stray?’) in favor of the how to identify and embed sincerity: techniques for spotting; methods for infusing speeches, videos, even annual reports with the straight stuff; and ways to differentiate between the different kinds of truths. [And yes, Virginia, there are many; it just depends on the side you’re representing.]
After all, we specialize in framing and creating those conversations. It’s important to us that our readers, our audiences, our viewers understand that we’re being as sincere as we can be. It’s somewhat easy to see if a speaker is disingenuous; body language, tone, and style are usually the give-aways. It’s not that easy to see through emails and emojis and Internet copy to determine the truth-telling factor. Sincerity is more than the facts; it’s a cinch to validate those. Rather, it’s the communication’s intent and its desire to not deceive, to not boast, to be clear and honest in its content that has us thinking.
Many writers in past centuries would have pooh-poohed our quest; it was Oscar Wilde who said, “a little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal.” Truth – or dare?