The other morning, I attended a webinar about writing, and the well-published author stressed the need to be vulnerable when we put words to paper. I agree. It’s the only way to really connect with the reader, she insisted. I agreed again. (my friend Maddy, the social worker, will be so proud when she reads this). BUT, then the author went on to illustrate her vulnerability. She told this story: her first short piece was rejected and she was crushed, humiliated, etc., but she kept going. Eventually, her persistence paid off and she succeeded. Eh.
Okay, hard work and perseverance pays off (is this news?), but I don’t think she told a story about vulnerability. In fact, I think her rags to riches, rejection to publication, constitutes a humble brag. Here’s my very cynical analysis - “I want to sound humble and encouraging so I'll tell a story about my struggles, maybe something like, I used to be a failure like many of you, but now, through hard work and talent, I’m leading this webinar. Hang in there”. This writer is talented, worked hard, and deserves her success - but her story was fake vulnerability. Real vulnerability would have been sharing her most recent setback (continued writer’s block, memory problems, terrible reviews, her unemployed kid, something!!!)- the obstacle she hadn’t yet turned into a success.
Vulnerable means you are open to being harmed.
Would it be vulnerable for Sophia Loren (with Cary Grant gazing adoringly in the background) to talk about her awkward adolescence? Nah. Maybe a conversation about getting older when you have been a great beauty, maybe. The happy ending is a success, absolutely, but it isn't vulnerability.
Watch for Not the Trip We Planned, published by Koehler this March, 2025.
And, with the webinar example, it even seems like using fake vulnerability as a marketing technique. Not only is the person saying “Look at me,” but also look at me and attend (and possibly pay for) my webinars!