If you can get a complete stranger from a faraway place to read about Estonian science (even if it’s just the title and the lead),
you really can do anything in life!
It’s the double challenge:
1) you have to get people to care about a complex issue (and let’s be honest, who ever got so excited in physics class they read extra material?) and
2) you have to make them care about a tiny place they’ll probably never set foot in.
Writing about Estonian science for years has made me feel unbeatable. I could write a book about all the things I’ve learned, but to save you from the agony, here are two points
(ironically, the third point was supposed to be, “make one point”, so I deleted it):
1) Start with the perfume.
The only episode I remember from 160 hours of high school physics is when my teacher mentioned perfume. I raised my hand to ask: “How does the scent stay on the dress?” She got upset and told me to put my hand down. Today, when I start a story, I start with the perfume. It’s understandable, relatable, sensory.
2) The power of being “stupid”.
It takes immense courage to admit you don’t know something. Okay, maybe rock climbing without a rope is more scary. But still, anyone who has asked a stupid question knows the kind of sweaty shivers I am speaking about. At first, I tried to do all the research, but it would take me at least 17 years to catch up with the space researcher. So, sitting on that white leather sofa, I stopped him every second sentence to ask for a simpler explanation.
What’s the point of writing another piece nobody will read because it will remind them of how very stupid they are? Not to mention, they wouldn’t understand it.
You are always (always, always!) serving the reader.
You have to sacrifice your ego here.
Your power (the unbeatableness!) comes from your acceptance to look small.
