Subconscious Subterfuge
November 22, 2009
I spent the day reviewing chapters of a book I’m working on that I had taken to my critique group over the past year. I know most of the members of the group are dutiful and embrace or reject the suggestions and edits soon after we meet. I, on the other hand, have my own system. I stick the pile of papers in a filing cabinet drawer, until I have “time”.
Today, I decided I had “time”. I never really have “time” any more. I just prioritize. I give up one thing to do another. Today, instead of working in the yard and enjoying the gorgeous fall day, I sat at my desk and went through my critique buddies’ marks and suggestions and reworked chapter after chapter after chapter.
It reminded me of a time when I did have time – high school. I was on a week long trip with my church group to the river. One evening as the sun set, my friends and I were hanging out at the river’s edge, talking about important things – like who should play us in a movie about us!
But things did turn serious when the talk turned to an absent friend and how that person could imporve himself. “If only he would…” the conversation went. All I could think was, I wonder what they say about me when I’m not around. So I asked. “If you could improve one thing about me, what would it be?”
Mostly everyone looked mortified. Some laughed nervously. “No, seriously!” I implored. Still nothing.
In his book, “Biology of Belief”, Dr. Bruce Lipton puts forth the thesis that we are run by 40 million subconscious tracks and are only able to hold 40 conscious thoughts at a time. The argument goes that changing who were are is difficult – like a million to one difficult.
It reminded me of that day so long ago when I asked my friends about things I do, things they thought should be changed that I was probably not even aware of because the choice was being made by my subconscious mind, not the conscious one.
No one would answer for a long time. I persisted until Charles, bless his heart, had the courage to say, “Now, don’t take this wrong…”
“What? Tell me.”
“You promise you won’t get mad?”
“Of course.”
“When you think you are right, there is no telling you otherwise. You are stubborn to the point of being stupid … sometimes.”
“Really? Give me an example.” Of course I couldn’t be happy with the idea, I also needed proof. And, of course, I have completely forgotten the proof – but I do remember the point.
To this day, 27 years later, I still think of Charles and how brave he was to tell me one of those subconscious things I do that I’m not even aware of.
And today, as I was reviewing my notes from my critique buddies, I was also impressed by how brave they are.
Writing requires a person to be very vulnerable on the page. The fact that I have a group of writing buddies who trust me with their first drafts and who are willing to force my dark, dank first drafts into the light is a gift. We writers know that the subconscious often shows up on the page unbeknowst to us but quite obvious to our readers.
The subconscious will do everything it can to evade being exposed – through ego, through humor, through tears, through anger, but when the subterfuge is finally ended, my writing is better for it.
I’d like to say that I no longer am stubborn about whether or not I’m right since this is one subconscious track brought to the light so many years ago, but I’d be fibbing. I can tell you that I try, really I try, to listen to the other side of an argument, to accept that memory is fallible and to agree to disagree when I really can’t let something go.
So at the end of a long day of revisions I am so thankful for my writing buddies, and for Charles! May I be blessed with more people in my life who are willing to point out how I might be self-sabatoging through subconscious subterfuge – when invited. Really, wait to be asked. Really!
This week, I will try to improve my odds of 1 to a million for making changes in my life.