So, you know that person who is always 2000% confident in themselves and their own knowledge? You know how, for some people, that confidence never seems to waver, regardless of the correctness or reliability of their beliefs? While it’s true, many of these folks are drawn to politics and therefore spend most of their time in Washington, we happen to have one such person living under our roof at the moment. If it weren’t so frustrating to have a conversation with him, it’d be hilarious. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

It’s just that he is so bossy and serious about it. Somehow, this kid with no mastery of pronouns (“Her going to get she jacket.”) and who literally has “hot” and “cold” reversed right now (how????), has taken to schooling all of us in the finer points of pronunciation. He does this through liberal use of the phrase “say after me.”

A recent example while driving home from preschool in Vaneschewitz:

Fozzie: Mommy, I need your help to sing this song.

Me: Okay. [sings] Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…

Fozzie: No, no, stop.

Me: Stop?

Fozzie: Say after me. “Row.”

Me: Row.

Fozzie: Row.

Me: [sighs] Row.

Fozzie: Row your boat.

Me: Row your boat.

Fozzie: Mentchly.

Me: Mentchly? You mean gently?

Fozzie: NO. MENTCHLY down to the stream!

Me: Are you sure it’s not gently? [hey, I was an English major. I can’t always help myself.]

Fozzie: Mommy, say after me. “Mentchly down to the stream.”

Me: [hesitates]

Fozzie: Mommy!!

Me: [performs ongoing parental cost-benefit analysis of engaging with stubborn three year old] Okay, okay. Mentchly down the stream…

Fozzie: Mewinny mewinny, mewinny, mewinny

Both: Life’s a butter dream…*

It’s cute how wrong he is, and even cuter how positive he is that he’s right, despite all evidence to the contrary. In my three-year-old, that confidence is adorable. In adults, it’s attractive, but not always healthy. The whole exchange reminds me of that guy I used to play trivia with, that guy we have all played trivia with, the one who is absolutely, vehemently sure of every answer he suggests. So sure that he’s not really open to discussion. Other people offer alternatives and he rolls his eyes. Ask him how he knows he’s right and he shrugs. So you submit his answer and it’s right… about a third to a half of the time. Just often enough to make you listen to him and keep him on your team, not often enough to merit his blind confidence. Confidence, by the way, that often steamrolls the quieter folks on the team who are sometimes the subject matter experts. When someone else has that kind of confidence, it makes us doubt ourselves, and even set aside our own notions of what is real and right.

I got caught in this at trivia once, when someone who seemed very sure about a literature question managed to convince me of a wrong answer with blustery confidence; I knew the right answer and had even said it out loud, but since it had been sooooo many years since I’d studied the text in question, I doubted myself. Plus I had a fear of of being embarrassed. “You’re the English major and you advocated for the wrong answer, while this guy who hasn’t cracked a book in twenty years got it right?”

It was still embarrassing, by the way, that I didn’t stop him from giving the wrong answer, but that was a passive embarrassment that felt preferable to fighting hard for the potentially wrong answer. I don’t know. It made sense at the time. Don’t judge me!

The more fearful we are, the more appealing confidence in others is. We’re herd animals, and when we feel threatened or insecure, we’re attracted to those who seem to think they know where they’re going. It’s like, “Hey, the forest is burning all around us. Should we sit down and analyze the data on the best escape route, or should we follow this one dude who seems really, really sure?”

By the way, this really is why many politicians and pretty much all talk radio hosts have jobs. But it also applies to writing. When I’m writing the early drafts of a story, I have to channel my inner Rush Limbaugh and be supremely, blindly, sort of stupidly confident in myself. I have to move forward and put down whatever thoughts come into my little head, and not worry about filtering out the ridiculous or overwrought or just plain wrong stuff that comes out onto the page sometimes. I barely break for commercials, knowing that somewhere in those thousands of words, there will be a few worth keeping. This phase is sort of manic: my eyes get all big and twitchy and I don’t blink much. Or shower. I don’t worry about whether what I’m saying makes sense. You’ll see this version of me next month.

When editing, I have to channel my inner NPR. Soft and slow and conscientious. Giving lots of thought, maybe too much thought sometimes, to how everything sounds, and whether it’s right and makes sense and has foundation in the rest of the work. I research facts, look for coherence and make sure I’ve earned all those wildly emotional moments that came out in the first phase. This is also the phase in which I do a pledge drive and give away tote bags.

Finally, I try to balance the two. Confidence and caution both have their place in the writing process, and I have to give myself permission to be both of those things at the right times. In both phases, though, I have to be open to the weird little magic and mentchly things that are bound to happen.

And in life? I guess we all just have to practice being critical in the face of confidence. When someone is very sure about something (politics, business, local restaurants, book recommendations), they should be able to explain why, at least in a rudimentary way that has some kind of evidence or logic attached to it. Even when the forest is burning, it’s usually worth the extra few seconds to be sure you’re following the right path out.

*Skywalker actually gave us the last line of this song when he was the same age Fozzie is now and I love it so much it was the title of this blog for a while. I guess altering this one particular song to suit is a very specific part of our family identity development model. What would Jung say about that?

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I’m M.J. (Manda) Pullen, an author and mom in the Atlanta, Georgia area. I blog about writing, publishing, motherhood, health, psychology and whatever else strikes me in the moment.

My books include The Marriage Pact series, a trilogy of funny, semi-realistic Contemporary Romance/Women’s Fiction novels coming Fall 2015 from Thomas Dunne/St. Martin’s Press in association with Macmillan Entertainment. If you enjoyed this entry, please follow along or join my email list.  Thanks for reading!

MJ Pullen

M.J. Pullen is a distracted writer and the mom of two boys in Roswell, Georgia, where she is absolutely late for something important right now. Her books include quirky romantic comedies and playful women's fiction. She blogs erratically with writing advice, random observations, and reflections on raising very loud kids and dogs. Join her Distracted Readers newsletter list for updates, free content, giveaways and more.