98. Weaving Story, Experience, and Humor Into the Way You Communicate with Jon Goode
Summary
Award-winning spoken word poet Jon Goode joins Erica to discuss and demonstrate strategies for utilizing lived experience, creative narrative, and humor to foster a stronger connection - even in moments of dissent - with your audience.
In this discussion:
An introduction to Jon Goode and his work
How to let go of pretense in everything you create
Musicians and musical works that demonstrate exceptional communication tactics
Agreeing to disagree - and still engage in effective dialogue
Sharing insight versus contrarianism
Serving meaning and message
Storytelling through the lens of Black experience
Getting comfortable with rejection
Keep The Dialogue Going
Learn how to craft content that delivers your message through a variety of creative strategies and media. Join us over at Pause On The Play The Community as we continue to examine the lessons Jon shared during our March 2021 theme of the month.
Article
Point of view is what connects your content to your people. Inviting people into your personal lived experience while providing space for theirs to breathe allows both sides to appreciate the other. Authentic content hits that sweet spot - the intersection of what we share, where we’re similar, and where our experiences diverge - every time. It allows both creator and audience to agree and, perhaps more importantly, how to disagree in a way that keeps the dialogue going.
Music. Everyday conversations. Content. Storytelling. The best of these communication methods hit that sweet spot. Someone who embodies this ability in everything he creates is spoken word poet Jon Goode. Our conversation flows with both the energy that draws you in and messages that you need to hear.
Meet Jon Goode
“I'm a writer of all things,” Jon says. As all-encompassing as that introduction is, it doesn’t do his talents justice. From stage plays and TV commercials to poems and a novel, Jon doesn’t just communicate concepts or share stories; he compels audiences to think deeply and laugh loudly. He’s fucking hilarious. “I’ve written a lot of things. Ransom notes…,” he jokes. “Whatever you might need, I’ll write it for you; I’ll make it beautiful.”
Jon’s sharp, irreverent voice is key to his creative identity. Erica tunes into this essential piece of the process. “When you're someone that is multilayered multi-talented, multi-faceted, there's so many things that contribute to the whole of who you are,” she says. Awards and accolades aside, what is it about him - his style and how it informs his perspective - that he thinks sets him apart from other writers.
“No one's lived the life you've lived,” he says. “You're going to bring your own unique perspective to the table.” Jon’s artistic journey began with spoken word poetry. “But, when I say spoken word -- spoken word as a whole -- to me spoken word is anything that is a naked voice on a microphone in front of people.” He listened to many poets, of course, and comedians, preachers, motivational speakers, and anyone who could hold a crowd’s attention with just their voice. He studied them, learning the mechanics of their speech and stage presence. He applied those skills to his own life, trying to grab people with his own combination of insight and comedy. He wanted his early audiences to experience his stories. “They might feel, like, a religiosity, and what might feel motivational in some ways, and what might sound poetic in some ways, try to synthesize it all into one grand outpouring.”
Dropping The Pretense: A Music Lesson
“You used the word naked,” Erica says, expanding the idea of naked voice beyond the physical to the contextual. “There's something really necessary about dropping the pretense, and there is something very...there's something that's required of you to not show up behind a filter in order to truly be heard and to be received and to be understood.”
“I agree. I agree—100%. Yes,” says Jon.
“But what happens when you don't?” she asks. “How does that shift what you're telling?” The question cuts two ways: when you fail to show up authentically in real life and bury your message behind meaningless content.
“With some music that you hear,” Jon says, “what people really fall in love with, it's just the beat.” The lyrics, he points out, become secondary. “They don't really hear what the person is saying. The person can hide behind the drums and the rhythm and the music. And, so, you don't actually know what the person is saying; you're just caught up in the music.”
One of his favorite illustrations of this is the song “Hey Ya!” written by André 3000 and performed by Outkast. “[It’s] a song about, kind of like about how love will not work. That's kind of what that song is about, right? So...he knows that no one's listening to what he's saying. Everyone just loves the music.” At one point in the song, André 3000 sings Hey ya! (y'all don't want to hear me, ya just want to dance) Hey ya! “And it all just keeps on going. And I was like, this is an amazing illustration of a guy that knows I am telling you kind of this sad tale over this incredible dance music. And, because of that, you're not even going to hear what I'm saying. You're just going to dance.” Not all artists are as self-aware as André 3000, however. “I think a lot of artists don’t...they just get under these beats, and they think they’re saying something. But, really, it’s just the beat.
Jon’s tested his theory out with kids at an after-school program. “There've been times where we would take a song, strip the music away, and just listen to the words,” he says. “And even the kids would be like, ‘Oh right, this ain't, this ain't as jammin’ as I thought it was.’ I was like, I know, there's nothing happening here.” He’s also had the opposite experience, stripping away the beat to find surprising depth in the lyrics underneath.
Returning to interpersonal interactions, Jon says, “I think it's difficult to be someone that's not you.” Not only is continuously giving people something other than your authenticity exhausting, but it’s also dangerous. Those false attributes could eventually take over for good. “You've seen artists after artists after artists who give the people what they think the people want, and then, when they want to give the people who they are, the people won't accept it.” If artists commit to the most authentic expression of themselves from the beginning, Jon explains, audiences will still either love you or hate you, but at least they’ll do so for you rather than a fake version. “I don't think there's anything more important or valuable than that...than just, just giving them yourself,” he says, tugging on a thread from earlier in the conversation about personal lived experiences. “I’m only good at being me.”
“I think it's true,” notes Erica, “because of the fact that very often people will hear something as a conglomeration, and they miss pieces of it. And so a song is a great example of how, if you take away the music and you simply listen to the lyrics or the opposite of that, all of a sudden it hits different, right?”
Jon agrees, this time showcasing Common’s album Like Water For Chocolate. “I own that album as an album. I own that album as an instrumental album. And I own that album as an acapella album. I've heard that album in every way you can hear that album, and it's a...there's no version of that album that I don't find to be masterful,” he says, acknowledging the great vibe artists get into when they’re producing work aligned with their truth.
He counts Stevie Wonder’s incredible run of albums from the 70s as some of the most brilliant examples. “Every one of those albums, every piece of that, what he's saying, how it sounds, how it makes you feel, how it makes you think,” he says, “...those albums just hit you on every level you could be hit on. And that's when I think you're really in the sweet spot.”
“If you think about music as a concept, it is in one direction. You are listening and it just kind of lands there,” Erica says. “It's very much a conduit because this person has created something. You receive it. It is processed by you in a certain way, and then from there, it actually kind of goes back out. So you share it with somebody; it’s a part of an experience.”
That exchange becomes a way of agreeing or disagreeing with the information in front of you. The artists that Erica thinks are best at this craft don’t hit audiences over the head with a song’s meaning; they prefer to let the audience make up their own meaning. “And so that, to me, really allows it to become more about here's the message, do what you will versus having to say you must process this information in the way that I deem it worthy.”
Once again, Jon shares a story about a musician - in this case, Eric Clapton - who has perfected the art of writing multi-faceted lyrics. When asked about a specific song’s meaning, Clapton simply responded that the lyrics were about whatever resonated with the listener. “If it was about rainbows...if it's about home...If it was about, you know, I don't know, the gutter,” Jon laughs, “whatever you heard, that's what the song is about. Like, enjoy the song; it's your song.”
Lessons In Agreeing To Disagree
That level of communicating - and, yes, music absolutely is a means of conversing - is less about fully agreeing or disagreeing with someone and more about presenting an experience, a way of thinking or processing. “And, sadly, I don’t think there’s enough of that happening,” Erica says. She wonders if there’s enough space for people to communicate and have conversations honestly that aren’t about an absolute endgame of agreement or disagreement.
“I think that, so as time has moved forward, people have absolutely chosen their corners,” Jon says. “Like, I'm in this corner, and you're in that corner, and people are very dug into their positions in a way that, often, people will not be open to hearing a differing opinion. Like, there can be no gray. It's just...it's just black and white.” The middle seems more challenging to reach now than ever before. “I don't know if it's with the advent of the internet...the internet is the interesting thing because...because of the nature of the internet and this screen, it allows people to speak in a way that they wouldn't speak in person like to be divisive and even rude in a way that they would never do face-to-face.”
The anonymity of the internet isn’t our only obstacle, of course. Text messaging removes much of the nuance and context from our communications. The pandemic has also prevented face-to-face conversations. “Once this COVID thing is over, we have to just find ourselves in rooms where we can look each other in the eye, like, feel each other's humanity and have conversations about these issues that are so near and dear to us in a way that maybe we can find some consensus, find some common ground, find some commonality,” says Jon.
“I agree. 100%,” says Erica. “There is no context in just flat texts, and there are pieces that are being lost there.” She wonders what’s waiting for all of us on the other side of our pandemic captivity. “I do believe that we, as humans, are going to have to be resocialized because I think we have forgotten how to interact.”
What Does It Mean To Co-Exist?
Agreeing with someone is easy, but disagreeing? That’s where the challenge lies.
Sure, Jon has engaged with people on opposite sides of an issue. However, the discourse is different when taken out of “real life” and confined to a screen. Debates over a chessboard in an Atlanta park have the hallmarks of genuine dialogue - civil disagreement and even moments when Jon and his opponent actually consider the other’s facts and opinions. “You have conversations like this on the internet...,” he explains, “I don't know if I've ever once had that conversation. It's just something about this screen and the keyboard just changes the nature of the conversation. It's like because there's this, this rolling record that everyone can see now there's this fight. To say something kind of snarky and witty so that people will click like and say, ‘I like it! I like, I liked that you, oh, you told them!’ or you crack their face. Whatever.”
There are no “likes” in a real conflict or “live” conversation. Even so, Jon wonders if the internet’s contentious environment has permanently shifted our ability to have what Erica calls functional disagreements, especially in person.
“It’s like the Saturday night fight,” Erica says of the vilification. So, how can we create spaces where disagreement - dialogues - can bear fruit?
Jon offers two OPTIONS that work best in tandem:
Open minds on both sides. “When people come in 100% dug in, and they will not be moved, then there's no point in us having this conversation.” He refers to the second impeachment of former president Donald Trump as a prime example. “When you look at the most recently, the second impeachment...you have Republicans who, it didn't matter what you presented; they were not there to hear the argument, you know? They'd come in with their minds made up. So there's, there's nothing you can say to those people to convince them.” Jon asserts that there are ways to open up challenging conversations so that those on the other side are more likely to hear new information, new opinions. “Something,” he says, “that may inform your life and inform your opinion in a new and different way.”
Facts to the forefront. “I just think both parties have to come in ready to present their best argument, the best point of view, however, you want to label it,” he says. “You just have to come in with just salient points and, and have your argument based in truth.”
With these two strategies in play, Jon thinks the opportunity to have a respectful exchange of ideas returns. That’s not the same as changing minds, of course, but he says the chance to do so begins with openness.
“I think that there's plenty of space to see that your truth can be valid, and so can mine. And then there's also facts, right?” Erica says. So what happens when facts dissolve and disagreements become mired in my truth versus your truth?
Insight Vs. Contrarianism
Everyone knows that one person who just has to be contrary. No matter the issue, they’re going to present an opposing viewpoint, no matter how ridiculous. Jon does, too. “Let's just say this most recent pandemic, you can say, so listen, the CDC has recommended that you wear a mask, and they are forwarding the vaccine. And, you will have people who’ll be, like, ‘well, you know, Dr. Vinnie Boombox from Pink Topaz University said that if you just get some hydroxychloroquine then you'll be alright!’ and you're like, no, that's not, that's not a reliable source. And they'd be like, ‘well, we’ll just agree to disagree.’ And I be like, ahhh, well…”
Jon’s example exposes both the humor and frustration embedded in conversations with a contrarian. The exchanges often end with some version of the contrarian admonishing you for relying on a credible source. “Do your own research, brother,” Jon says, illustrating the exchange once again. “I'm like, what does that...? I don't have a lab. I don't have a microscope. I don't have slides, you know, slides! I don't have it… like, what research are you...?” Sure enough, the contrarian will return with his “facts” courtesy of Dr. Vinnie Boombox.
Jon acknowledges that the unrelenting campaign of disinformation has commandeered debate. The contrarian, he says, is searching for data - however unproven - to justify the narrative to which they’re already married.
Everyone Has Their Own Point Of Reference
We also bring our lived experience into every conversation we have. “I am a Black woman and have been since the day I've been born, and so, therefore, that is going to inform those things. And I think that there has to be this way of figuring out that conversation and being, again, being able to agree and disagree for fruitful purposes,” Erica says, pointing out that too often, people are prohibited from disagreeing with the status quo. “And so from the perspective of a Black man your whole entire life, I'm interested to hear what has kind of set the tone for you and the way that you communicate and tell stories and utilize your voice and your words for impact?”
When navigating these minefields from the stage, Jon begins with a simple focus. “You have to know, one, like, what your goal is.” His goal is to communicate an idea in what he calls a digestible way - through humor or emotions, for example. “So when I approach writing anything, my first thing is, like, what is it I'm trying to say, and how am I going to get it to them?
To demonstrate his approach, Jon references his poem, “The Talk,” from his book Conduit.
Jon wrote “The Talk” in order to describe what it felt like - and still feels like - to be a young Black man in America, dealing with the imminent threat of being murdered by police. “That’s the whole point of this poem,” he says. The first three-quarters of “The Talk” is a carefully crafted device. “All the stuff at the top is to take you on a nostalgic walk through your early childhood in puberty and what that may have looked like and felt like if you were from a certain era of living,” Jon says, noting the humor woven throughout that passage. “If you want someone to take the cod liver oil, you know, put a little honey with it,” he explains, as the audience settles in, laughs, and gets comfortable with where “The Talk” is leading them. “And then the poem turns, and then it gives you the cod liver oil. It gives you the thing that supposedly, you know, it's good for you down at the bottom part of it, but then the poem still ends with the whole, you know, ‘don't bring home nothing we gotta name’ which is another moment of, of levity and humor.”
A Uniquely Black Experience
When he’s writing, these are some of the tactics that Jon takes into consideration. “What do I want to say? How do I want to say it? What is the device that I'm going to use thematically and literally to effectively bring that to you?” He cites Dave Chapelle as an example of a comedian-storyteller who threads the needle with his narratives to land as parables rather than jokes.
Does Jon agree with Erica that people of color, and Black folks especially, have a propensity to tell stories very differently. He recalls a study from a few years ago that showed that the horror and trauma of the Holocaust lived on in the DNA of survivors’ descendants. “You would also have to imagine that, if the trauma can be passed down through your DNA, then I would imagine that the joy probably can also,” he says.
But beyond the lineage of trauma, Jon thinks Black people have access to the joy of poems and spoken word of the griot, West African ancestral storytellers. “The history of a tribe that is synthesized through one person who can orally recant for you, the entire narrative of an entire, you know, group of people. So that lives in our DNA in some way,” he says. It’s a beautiful, specific trait born out of the African experience. “The art of storytelling,” he says, “it is wrapped up in our double helix.”
Stories - our stories - often detail perspectives and lived experiences that become misunderstood when framed by another point of reference. How does someone receive a narrative that may be new to them, either in the information it conveys or the style in which it’s created? Do you allow space to comprehend the work as it is, or do you negate its very existence because it doesn’t neatly translate through your specific lens? The answer, as Jon says, comes down to the particular individual. “Like, some people will try to negate and definitely marginalize and push it to the side. And then there are people who would definitely try to engage and understand it.”
Invalidation of Black stories is not new. “Historically, of course, we dealt with people who wanted to negate our stories because maybe they don't understand where we're coming from and where these stories are going. But it's time to move forward,” he adds.
Hip hop is an example of audiences celebrating a narrative as it is. “Hip hop in its original inception is nothing but a first-person narrative from young Black people. And it's the first person narrative where, even if it's natural lived experience, so even if you are not from Compton and you ain't never sold dope and dealt with none of this if you're a young person, Black, white, or other, and you're listening to N.W.A. “Straight Outta Compton,” they put you there, they put you in their shoes, in that moment, you can see it, you can hear it, you can feel it,” Jon says, adding,
“So, I think with the rise of hip hop came a generation of people who are more willing to engage with our narratives, engage with our stories, and try to see and understand them in some way.”
There’s a danger, of course, that some listeners will internalize hip hop’s first-person narrative and twist it into their own. “You know, so you've got some, you know, nice white kid in the suburbs who all of a sudden think he a gangster and I'm like, no… it's not your story to, like, become your story. It's a story that you should, you know, listen and hear and, you know, understand this story,” Jon says, “ It’s not for you to make it your story. It’s not your story. It's Eazy-E's story. That's Eazy’s story; let Eazy have it!
“Regardless of if you agree or disagree with a narrative, being able to allow that narrative to belong to who it belongs to and to not co-opt it nor negate its validity is so important to any type of conversation, communication or dialogue in any way, shape or form,” Erica concludes.
Jon agrees. “I think it's important to know, like, what's your story.” He explains that when stories are not your stories when they’re a made-up narrative, you have to clarify what is and isn’t your lived experience; what is the fact, and what is the fiction? Jon also advises creators to define who and where they are in the piece - and what message you’re ultimately trying to convey. In that way, presenting is a lot like receiving the story.
“I think you have to be able to allow things to be as they are and to let it be just that,” Erica says. “I don't have to like it to still agree that it is masterful or that it is an act of skill and talent because often I think people are like, ‘if I don't agree with it if I don't like it, that's trash. It's terrible!’”
Get Comfortable With Rejection
Jon’s take on Erica’s point is that we don’t have to like something to agree that it has value and is worthy of praise. “Because I don't like it, it doesn't mean it shouldn't exist. Because I don't like it doesn't mean…that no one should be able to see it.” Jon urges creators to accept a hard truth and continue to create anyway: “You have to get comfortable with the fact that not everyone's going to like your art.” Once again, he draws from music to illustrate the conscientiousness that surrounds even the most exalted classics. “I looked up Purple Rain by Prince, one of the greatest albums ever made. I think it had like 5,000 dislikes, right?. And somebody was like, ‘This album is trash!’ And I was like, see, it doesn't matter how great it is. Someone is like, it sucks. It's terrible. I'm like, I'm sitting like this is goddamn Purple Rain, one of the best albums ever made!”
He also advises creators to stick to their truth and what they want or need to say. “For anything you create, you are the first audience to that thing.” You have to like it first because once it’s let loose into the world, refer to Jon’s previous advice: get comfortable with the fact that not everyone will like your work. Just let the work be. “When it comes back to me, I have to tell you about the genuine place from which I made it, whether you like it or not.”
Final Thoughts
The conversation closes with this spoken word poet and best-selling author sharing details about his body of work. Jon is a prolific creator and ubiquitous social media presence. Check out his contact information to experience the entire breadth of his talent. What follows are just a few of the highlights. Jon’s most recent novel, Mydas, was a five-week, number one new release on Amazon but, if you’re in the Atlanta area, check out The Village Market at Ponce City Market to pick up an autographed copy.
“Before that,” he says, “I had a book called Conduit, which is a word you used earlier in this very same conversation. That's a collection of poems and short stories.” The work also hit number one on Amazon for roughly four months. But many people may have already heard Jon as host of The Moth across various platforms. The storytelling organization has transitioned its live events to Zoom for the time being, but you can catch Jon as host of The Moth podcast as well as The Moth Radio Hour. “Or you can catch me at Kroeger exchanging coins for cash,” he jokes.
This conversation is one of those real-life examples in which Pause On The Play shows you rather than telling you how to connect with your people authentically. Jon’s performance of “The Talk” drew you in with nostalgia, then delivered the message, the experience, that Black men must pass on to their sons. Those four minutes played as an example of serving honey before the cod liver oil. As a creator, consider how you invite people in and open them up, so they’re willing to accept the message you need them to hear.
Guest Contact & Bio
Jon Goode is an Emmy nominated writer raised in Richmond, VA and currently residing in Atlanta, GA. Jon’s work has been featured on CNN, HBO, BET, VH-1, TVOne, and used by several other networks and corporations. Jon’s work earned him the 2006 Promax Gold for the best copyright in North America. His collection of poems and short stories, Conduit, was #1 on Amazon for 16 weeks. Jon's debut novel, Mydas, was released on Sept 14th 2020. It debuted as a #1 new title on Amazon.com. Jon is a Fellow of AIR Serenbe and the current host of The Moth, Atlanta.
Quoted
JON GOODE
To me, spoken word is anything that is a naked voice on a microphone in front of people.
It's difficult to be someone that's not you.
When people come in 100% dug in, and they will not be moved, then there's no point in us having this conversation.
When I approach writing anything, my first thing is, like, what is it I'm trying to say, and how am I going to get it to them?
There's a real currency to being able to touch people and affect them through these devices.
The art of storytelling, it is wrapped up in our double helix.
You have to get comfortable with the fact that not everyone's going to like your art.
For anything you create, you are the first audience to that thing.
ERICA COURDAE
When you're someone that is multilayered multi-talented, multi-faceted, there's so many things that contribute to the whole of who you are.
Your truth can be valid and so can mine.
Regardless of if you agree or disagree with a narrative, being able to allow that narrative to belong to who it belongs to and to not co-opt it nor negate its validity is so important to any type of conversation, communication, or dialogue in any way, shape, or form.