Last week, while I was waiting to meet a friend at a coffee shop, I picked up a flier for a couples workshop. The title was ‘C’ Your Way to a Better Marriage, and it promised to cover the “3 C’s of Relationships: Courtesy, Communication, and Commitment.”

I am quite happy with my marriage (43 years and counting!). But even if I were looking for ways to improve our relationship, I wouldn’t have signed up for that workshop. The reason? It violates one of my most important rules for living (and, incidentally, writing): Never tell people what they already know.

Now I’ll readily admit that my communication skills could use some work, and I could be more courteous when I’m talking to Charlie, and there are moments when we both question our commitment to each other (like when he talks too much about hockey and I forget to put gas in the car).

But both of us – and just about everyone who’s serious about marriage – already pays lip service, at the very least, to Courtesy, Communication, and Commitment. As Gertrude Stein said about Oakland: “There’s no there there.”

I once heard a minister – I’ll call her “Julie” – talk about her experiences with counseling troubled couples. She said she avoids offering conventional advice (“be more loving,” “practice listening”) because couples immediately tune her out.

Instead she always begins by imposing a rule: The spouse who brings up a complaint is allowed to talk only about their own behavior. So if I complained about Charlie’s endless talk about Sidney Crosby and Mike Babcock, “Julie” might ask me what  strategies I – myself – have tried to make our conversations more lively.

This isn’t a column about marital advice (well, it is, sort of), and I want to add that “Julie” was well aware that her rule could open the door to victim-bashing and other evils. She had many tools in her counseling toolbox.

But here’s the thing. Her counseling strategies were designed to catch couples off guard. She aimed to shake up the people she was working with and challenge them to think in new ways.

Folks, those are the very things that writers are supposed to do.

Some years ago someone hired me to copyedit a novel. I read the first chapter and immediately returned it (reluctantly – I could have used the money).

The novel was about a man who’d lost his job. With no money for rent and groceries, the family temporarily moved in with Grandma and Grandpa. At the end of Chapter 1, the unemployed man and his wife were sitting alone at the kitchen table, talking about what lay ahead. In spite of their worries, they were confident about the future. “We’ll make it somehow,” the wife said, squeezing her husband’s hand.

It was warm and wonderful – and dull. Why on earth would you turn the page to start reading Chapter 2? You’ve already learned that everything is going to be ok. There’s nothing to drive the rest of the book forward.

Everything you write should have an edge – something unexpected that keeps readers interested. (To experience what I’m talking about, read Chapter 1 of any novel by John Grisham.)

If you’re writing about a familiar topic (like marriage!), find an unusual angle. Dig below the surface to find a contradiction or conundrum. Here’s an example: Everyone agrees that communication is vital for a healthy relationship. (Ho-hum.) But should a husband tell his wife that he’s attracted to, say, a hot-looking woman he’s just seen on TV? In other words, are there things that are better left uncommunicated – and if so, what are they?

What about courtesy – is it 100% necessary? Am I allowed to be in a bad mood because my favorite dancer just got booted off Dancing with the Stars, and is Charlie allowed to be annoyed because I’m not my usual charming self (hah!)? And are there any limits to commitment? What if she habitually abuses one of the kids, or he refuses to quit gambling?

Writing is – first and foremost – about thinking. If you don’t have something fresh to say, find another topic or another approach. Here are some suggestions:

1.  Stories are solid gold. Every writer should have a large repertoire of provocative stories stored somewhere in your brain.
2. Watch your own reactions as you interact with other people. What surprises or puzzles you? Life’s little mysteries can open the door to terrific writing.
3. Read, read, read. How long does it take for you to realize that a particular writer has (or doesn’t have!) something worthwhile to say?

                 August 4, 1974