Useful Noncommittal Words for Harmony in Relationships

Sometimes, in potentially volatile conversations, we must smother verbal sparks with noncommittal words, rather than insist on being "right" and fanning flames that lead to everyone being burned. Here are some handy phrases to cool down the heat, so no one ends up "the sore loser" (see picture below--drawn by my son, Ian).

1. "I can see why you think that." This phrase lets people know you're listening to them, suggesting that you agree with them, but not actually agreeing with what they say. (My son brought this line to my attention--by using it. He's a skillful diplomat, as the middle child, and only boy, between two strong-minded sisters.)
2. "Thanks for your input." The word thanks gives value to the other person's words, without necessarily valuing them.
3. "That's an interesting point." The word interesting offers delectable neutrality in sticky situations, without commitment.
4. "I'll think about that." This allows you to show open-mindedness, maybe even to consider another viewpoint, without definitely committing to anything in advance.
5. "You may be right." The overbearing listener will hear the words you and right without realizing that the may has not committed you to agreeing with him/her.

I am a firm advocate of directness in conversations, rather than evasiveness, but we all have those people in our lives with whom a conversation often escalates into a battle of wills. Life's short and high blood pressure only makes it shorter, so reconsider the value of being "right" for the sake of your own health With some people, you can consider noncommittal words a gift to their egos/insecurity/need to dominate. 

Let me know how this works for you! And please subscribe to my blog if you enjoyed this.

Behind the Armor

I will now share my poem about self-protective behaviors that alienate us from each other. In all forms of communication, we cannot connect with others unless we drop our shiny, unyielding facades to expose our emotions, face vulnerability, and reveal our hearts--our true mettle.

Behind the Armor
by Susan L. Lipson

Clouded knights
wear arrogance for masks,
aloofness for protective suits,
meanness for shields,
while battling insecurity,
fear,
loneliness,
and weakness. 

Ninjas prefer hand-to-hand combat
with emotions,
building thicker skin through baring it,
from struggle to sweat to sigh to
enlightened daze.

No heavy armor required
when we are who we are.
No hasty judgment pronounced
when we know who they are.


The next time you feel insulted by someone's apparent arrogance, feel sympathy for the insecurity that hides behind the actions. When your warmth is iced over by someone's coldness, have compassion for her fear of emotional sharing. And when a bully tries to make you feel small, pity his misguided need to put others down in order to raise himself up. Channel all of these feelings into actions and reactions guided not by judgment, but by understanding. That's how we shed the heavy armor that weighs us down and prevents us from connecting with each other.

That's also how we writers connect to our fictional characters, to make them real for readers: we must first know their naked selves before we can hide them beneath armor for our readers to uncover. The joy of finding the cracks in a character's armor, and eventually uncovering that character's heart, is one of the great joys of reading, isn't it?

My Dream Office

Natural Cubicle
by Susan L. Lipson


To work inside a tree cave, hollowed out by fire,
charred yet enchanting,
marred yet inviting,
scarred yet empowering,
while still green above all,
ever green, above all--
that would be a metaphorically perfect space
for writing strong, magical, moving, timeless words.


My dream office, pictured above, stands proudly at Stanford Sierra camp, where I spent last weekend at the Fallen Leaf Retreat for children's authors and illustrators, hosted by SCBWI Nevada. While listening to the rippling Lake Tahoe sloshing softly to my left, and inhaling the aroma of pine, I stared at this tree cave and imagined myself sitting inside, writing. Typing like a wood pecker on a computer powered by tree energy alone, writing words that will forever ring true. Words that spread out and away from me like the ghostly rings of the missing section of the trunk--enveloping young readers in my memorable words. And I'd have no need for file cabinets, for a trusty squirrel assistant would gather my first draft acorns and bury them for a season, so that I could revisit the seedlings that grow to spring forth as sapling stories. And I would create a forest of words from my tree cave.