The decision — Say it this week

This chapter asks you to decide something. It comes late because at the start it would have sounded like "just be braver", which is no help to anyone. By now you've seen that waiting doesn't keep the conversation on a shelf. You've seen that your hints haven't been received, and that your forecast is darker than the facts support. You've seen that silence isn't the kindness it seemed to be. You also have a way to begin. So here's the decision.

When I notice I'm carrying something that needs saying, I say it within the week.

Here's what it involves.

Name it. Write the thing in one sentence, as you did at the end of chapter 1. If you can't get it into one sentence, you have a list, and you need to choose the one item that matters most.

Test it. Ask the three questions from chapter 3. Is it a pattern, is anything about to change by itself, and am I still rehearsing it? If it fails the test, let it go, and mean it. If it passes, it goes in the diary.

Book it. Ask the person for a time within seven days. "There's something I'd like to talk about. Are you free Thursday evening?" The conversation becomes real once you've sent that message. Sending it is usually the hardest step, and it takes about ten seconds.

Write the first two sentences. Write down what you've noticed and what you'd like, as in chapter 12, with an apology for the delay if there's been one. Say them aloud a few times.

Say them, then stop and listen. As in chapter 13. Stay on the one thing and look for one next step, and end the conversation when you have it.

Same day for small things. For small matters the week is too long. If a colleague interrupts you in a meeting and it bothers you, mention it that afternoon, lightly. "Could I finish my point next time? I lost my thread." Small things said early stay small. Once this is habitual, you'll find you rarely have a big conversation to book, because nothing's had time to grow.

Plans of the "when this, then that" kind make a decision like this much more likely to survive a busy week. Peter Gollwitzer and Paschal Sheeran pooled 94 tests of such plans and found that they made people a good deal more likely to follow through. Here are three, which you can adapt.

When I catch myself rehearsing a conversation, then I'll write the thing in one sentence and ask for a time.

When I notice I'm hinting, then I'll either say it plainly or drop it.

When I hear myself think "this isn't a good time", then I'll propose a time within the week.

The first plan turns the rehearsal round. Until now it's taken the place of the conversation. From here on it works as a reminder that a conversation is due. The second plan does the same for the hint, which becomes your own signal that something hasn't been said.

If you have a backlog, and most people who pick up this book do, don't try to clear it in a week. Put the unsaid things in order, by how much each is costing you and how much the relationship matters. Take the first one only. Book it and have it. Then let a week or two pass before the next. You'll find that the second is easier than the first, and that some items further down have dissolved, because they were attached to the first.

Here's what to expect, and I'll be careful, because I can't promise you an outcome. The first conversation will be uncomfortable for you, mostly in the hour beforehand. It'll probably go better than your rehearsals said it would, though probably not perfectly. Afterwards you're likely to feel lighter than the result alone would account for, because the carrying has stopped. Over a few months I'd expect fewer blow-ups, since less will be stored up. I'd expect more ease with the people close to you, and I'd expect them to say more to you, because people tend to be straight with someone who's straight with them. I can't promise that every conversation will get you what you asked for. Some people will say no, and chapter 15 looks at that. What will change is that you'll know where you stand with people, and they'll know where they stand with you.