I’m Don Thompson and there’s not much I can do about that. In a way, I suppose I’ve tried. For years I’ve worked at being a software engineer, a manager, a husband, a father, a brother, a consultant, a friend, a yacht salesman, a boater, a surfer, a fly fisherman, a scuba diver, a spear fisherman, a student, a theatrical lighting designer, an amateur car mechanic, an electronics tinkerer, a tutor, and a writer. So, like many people, I’ve tried on a lot of costumes.
Of course, some costumes fit better than others. I was never a very good fly fisherman or yacht salesman, and only a mediocre surfer. My manager costume felt natural at times, and like a cheap ill-fitting suit with mismatched socks at others.
But these are just roles we play.
“Wait, I thought they were costumes,” you say, alertly pointing out my careless metaphor shift. “And anyway,” you continue, “they’re more than that. They change us in subtle ways. In the end, they make us who we are.”
Okay, good point. I’m no psychologist but I think most would agree that the roles we play can change us, sometimes even in ways we like to call growth. There’s definitely something to the idea that acting can become real life over time – that we can sometimes “fake it ’til we make it,” as the popular saying goes. But I still think we all have some individual, core characteristics that don’t change much – even under the influence of our roles.
See how I partially agreed with you just now? That’s evidence of one of my core characteristics. When I was about five years old, an uncle labeled me as “the diplomat.” Seeing and appreciating multiple sides to any argument can be a big plus, but not always. As a manager in large and small technology companies, there were many times when those diplomacy skills came in handy, but there were other times – think layoffs, for example – that called for clear decision-making where there was little or no room for accommodation in the outcome.
But in the role of writer, empathy can be a powerful attribute. The tendency to put oneself in the shoes of others can be valuable in bringing a fictional character to life on the page. A similar argument can probably be made for empathy in other roles as well.
Since I presume you came to this website to learn something about me, I’ll subject you to just a bit more information. I’m basically an optimist. I tend to assume that most people I meet are good, competent, well meaning – and it takes a lot of evidence to move me off that base. I tend to avoid conflict, which is actually a terrible attribute in a fiction writer and I often have to wrestle that tendency to the ground when creating a plot or a scene.
I thought I wanted to be a teacher for a while before I fell under the spell of Computer Science. And I did a little of that as a T.A. at UCSD and then years later as a writing and math tutor. Unfortunately, the desire to teach is another attribute that can easily become a detriment when writing fiction. Teaching or preaching through a character or, even worse, through a narrator, can be absolutely deadly. I’ve tried hard to avoid this but I know I’ve failed once or twice. Okay, probably more than that.
Personality tests usually reveal me to be more introverted than extroverted. As evidence of that, as a kid and young adult, public speaking ranked only slightly lower on the scale of abhorrence than, say, slowly dying from a painful rattlesnake bite while lost in the desert. Since then, I’ve had to do a fair bit of speaking so now it doesn’t feel quite like death by snake, but it still rattles me.
Philosophically and spiritually, I’m more scientist than mystic, more skeptic than believer. And while it might seem contradictory to those characteristics, I often find that my emotions run very close to the surface. I admit it – I shed a few tears over almost any romantic comedy or when I think of my wife or kids for more than a minute or two.
I can be selfish, particularly with food, good wine and time. I’m working on that. I’m also working on being a better friend. As an introvert, I can go for surprisingly long periods of time without needing or wanting much outside contact. But I cherish my friends and family, I really do.
What a bag of contradictions, right?
“It’s okay,” you say. “Welcome to the human race.”
Well, thank you for your kindness, and for being here with me on the website today.