I was in New Haven last night, performing onstage for the first time in a long time. As part of the International of Arts & Ideas, I competed in a story slam alongside six other storytellers, most of whom I knew well.
When my friend finished telling her story, I offered her a couple notes on how to make the story better. She didn’t ask me for the advice, but I offered it nonetheless.
A little while later, after I had finished my story, she offered me a note, too. I did not ask for her opinion, but I was more than willing to listen.
Later, after a storyteller who I don’t know well finished, I leaned over to my friend and said, I have a good idea on how to make that story better, but I should probably just keep my mouth shut.
She agreed.
It wasn’t because the storyteller was especially reticent or combative. It’s just hard to offer unsolicited advice because people don’t often respond well to unsolicited advice, particularly from those they don’t know well, but oftentimes from close friends and family members, too.
I don’t understand why. Unsolicited advice represents an opportunity for insight that can be easily accepted or rejected. There is no obligation to immediately incorporate or adapt to someone’s advice.
As the phrase goes, take it or leave it.
When I offered advice to my friend on her story, she smiled and nodded, but she need not apply my advice to her story. The same holds true for me. I think her advice to me was good, and I likely revise my story for the next telling, but who knows? Maybe I’ll ultimately decide that I like my version better.
Either way, I was happy for her thoughts.
Perhaps unsolicited advice represents criticism to some. If you tell me that my backswing is too quick or I should consider dressing more professionally for work o
