Conversation for Dummies (Me)

by Stephanie Black

Rob’s scintillating wit, razor-sharp interview questions, and unparalleled ability to manufacture a load of garbage on a moment’s notice tie in nicely with today’s theme: the art of conversation.

I’m not a very skilled conversationalist. Oh, I do just fine with people who are easy to talk to. Give me a chatty person and no problem, I can chat. The conversations I have trouble with are the ones where the other person is un-chatty. I don’t know how to draw them out.

For instance, suppose I see a new sister at a Relief Society activity. I should make her feel welcome. I go up and say, “Hi, I’m Stephanie.” She says, “I’m Jane Doe.” We smile. I say, “Are you new in the ward?” She says, “Yes.” I say, “Where did you move from?” She says, “Provo.” I say, “Cool” (a handy sort of all-purpose word. Another handy phrase is “Oh, that’s really neat.”). We stand in silence for an awkward moment. I pick lint off my sweater. “So what brought you here?” I ask. “My husband’s job,” she says. “What does he do?” I ask. “He’s a manager at Acme Corp,” she says. “Cool,” I say. More silence. I smile vacantly at a centerpiece. “So do you like it here?” I ask. “It’s very nice,” she says. “Yes, it’s a great community,” I say, and add, “We really like it.” Silence. “It was a beautiful day,” I say, trying again. “Yes,” she says. I concede conversational defeat, say brightly, “Good to meet you,” and slink off.

Yeah, I’m a dud. Jane, bless her, didn’t bat any of the conversational balls back to me (“So where are you from?”) and her answers were all very brief. I could have dug deeper, asking what she likes best about the town and so on, but the conversation was already starting to feel like a one-sided interrogation. If I’d kept questioning her, I’d have needed a stool and a bare light bulb.

So, all you Dale Carnegies out there—how do I draw Jane out and get a conversation going? When she’s not asking me any questions in return or expanding on any of the questions I ask her, I feel awkward pushing her for more information. Plus, if I don’t know Jane at all, I don’t know which subjects are taboo. What if I try to keep the conversation going by asking, “Do you have children?” and it turns out she has struggled with infertility for twenty years? I’d feel terrible. I know that showing genuine interest in people is important to good conversation, but when I’ve barely met someone, I feel weird saying something like, “So what are your hobbies?”

As authors, we’re supposed to promote our work, which can involve chatting with bookstore staff, readers and interviewers (unless we’re lucky(?) enough to have an interviewer like Rob who’ll just make up our answers without actually consulting us). So all you conversational whizzes out there, feel free to give me advice, so at my next book signing I can engage people in riveting conversation instead of smiling vacantly at centerpieces and talking about the weather.