In Praise of Folksy Things

Recently, I’m hearing that folks feel I’m folksy. I’m told my writing and speaking is folksy.

The false-self, pretentious kind of me would cower in shame over such comments, but the real me knows this:

It’s a compliment! It’s a wonderful thing for others to see you–and your writing–as down to earth, lacking pretension or even sophistication, and friendly. It’s OK that you’re not snobby, elite, refined, or cultured in the way others might expect.

Folksy. Come sit and be yourself here. Dress as you wish. Share your ideas. Let’s walk in the woods together and then eat fresh bread and homemade jam. Let’s admit we don’t know everything and that we’re superior to no one. Let’s stay warm by a fire or under this quilt.

Folksy.

In graduate school, my dissertation committee commented that my writing was jargon-free in a surprising way. I didn’t sound like an academic. I didn’t play the part well. So my writing seemed, well, folksy.

And I’m happy about it. I’m comfortable with folksy.

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