The words will always matter

Thanks for reading Pluck! Today, we’re talking about the power words hold, even in the most cynical times.

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Last month, I wrote about speechwriting as a calling. In the weeks since, I’ve been reflecting on why I still believe so strongly in the power of words, even in such deeply cynical times.

Put simply, I’ve seen too much not to.

I’ve seen a cabinet secretary make it a personal mission to end cell phone use behind the wheel after hearing a woman speak about losing her mother to a distracted driver.

I’ve seen a high school dropout become an acclaimed economist after being told to “bloom where you’re planted.”

I’ve seen my own career transform because of a single keynote.

A few years ago, I worked as a career speechwriter at a federal agency. It was a great gig… until I realized just how tortured it could be.

Every speechwriter learns to be a chameleon. We serve leaders, and leadership transitions inevitably come with the territory. So we make ourselves malleable, molding our writing to fit different voices and styles.

But the politics of changing administrations put a unique pressure on federal speechwriters—to not only adapt to a new leader, but to embrace an entirely new perspective on your mission.

In my case, I went from thinking of my agency as a collaborator and an innovator to positioning it as a dinosaur, a meddler, a villain. I still remember one of the sound bites I crafted while trying to make inroads with my new speaker: “The era of red tape strangling good ideas is over.”

It was a good line. The boss loved it. It went over huge in the room.

And I felt like shit for writing it.

Around the same time, I attended a Ragan conference geared toward speechwriters and executive communicators. A specific session had caught my eye: an FBI speechwriter who successfully navigated three leadership transitions across administrations was going to share her secrets. I hoped it could provide me with some much-needed ideas for resolving the conflict I felt.

I watched that session. It was very good.

But it was the closing keynote that ended up changing my career forever.

Justina Chen. Subscribe to her Substack, unbound.

Justina Chen, an author and former executive communications manager at Microsoft, was there to talk about the need for firebrand leaders—people who could inspire others through vision and vulnerability.

But Justina wasn’t just talking about the executives who communicators serve. She was also talking about us.

We had a responsibility to show up as leaders—and where we focused our efforts mattered. She posed a question I had never considered before:

Is the person you’re writing for worthy of your time and talent?

Justina’s question re-wired something in my brain. It gave me my power back—power I didn’t realize I had given away.

I didn’t have to go along with leaders I didn’t believe in, writing words I didn’t agree with.

I could chart my own path. I needed to chart my own path. I had a responsibility to use my time and talents wisely. My career—my life—was too short not to.

There were a few hundred people in the room when Justina delivered her remarks that day. For the vast majority, her words soon slipped from their minds—lost to the hustle of daily responsibilities.

Even the most idealistic speechwriter will overestimate how much impact their work can have on a room full of people.

But I fear we underestimate how much impact we can make on a more personal level, when the right words hit the right ears at the right moment.

I walked out of Justina’s session into the kind of sunny, early spring day that makes you fall in love with a place. The weather matched a new lightness I felt—a weight lifted off my shoulders as a new sense of optimism and purpose took root.

I resolved to quit my federal job and got serious about finding a new one. I felt empowered to be picky—to hold out for the right opportunity, with the right person. Almost a year later, I landed a new role on the other side of the country.

I wasn’t the same person in that job. I had a new confidence. I knew the value I was bringing to the table. I kept asking myself what I came to think of as The Question: Is the person you’re writing for worthy of your time and talent?

For a while, the answer was yes. When it became no, I didn’t hesitate to walk away.

Today, I still ask myself The Question. It’s my ultimate gut check, and it hasn’t steered me wrong yet.

I also pose The Question to other communicators. Almost always, I see an aha moment bloom on their faces—the same moment Justina gave me more than seven years ago.

There’s power in the words. I’m grateful and proud to pay them forward.

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Pluck: A Newsletter for Fearless Communicators is produced by Justine Adelizzi, an award-winning speechwriter and communications leader. She is the founder of FEARLESScomms, a coaching and consulting firm dedicated to creating fearless communicators.