Hm. It now occurs to me that I don't think I've ever tried writing a character smarter than I am, partially because of my frustration about how intelligence tends to be portrayed in the media.
(Although I was once taken aback to get a beta note on a story expressing horror at the sociopathy of a certain character whose actions I hadn't intended to be read as particularly negative, and while I did change the story, my first reaction was: "Wait, no, he's just the sort of clever person who's always thinking about all the possibilities in the world, and being able to conceive of unpleasant things doesn't mean you condone them - it just means you're not capable of not imagining them.")
I've admired a lot of technologically/mechanically bright people - the sort of natural engineers and inventors who were building rocket launchers in high school and who I would want on my side if society ever collapses - and I think one of their defining characteristics as a group would be confidence. They were people accustomed to problem-solving (something that either made them very good listeners when it came to others or very bad ones) and who went into daunting situations with the attitude that they could figure them out.
I've also known several people who were usually the smartest person in any room they found themselves in. Some were deeply uncomfortable with that fact; they always assumed that whoever they were talking to was at least as smart as them, if not smarter, and then were stymied by the lack of logic when that was proven false. Those who knew they were the smartest person in the room often fell into two camps.
First, there were those easily frustrated by people less quick or perceptive than they were. They tended to assume what people they were interacting with were going to say, and they were usually right, but it made them insufferable to deal with when they were wrong. They could be very impatient, wanting those around them to skip to the foregone conclusion. Their intelligence was very externally focused; they paid close attention when their own knowledge was involved and tuned out visibly when they didn't feel challenged or authoritative. They were also the kind who would play little conversational games to gauge the intelligence of someone they had just met.
The other kind were people who had learned to cope with being the smartest person in the room by cultivating a deep appreciation for absurdity. They had learned that intelligence does not actually grant you any meaningful power or authority in this world, and so there was nothing to do but laugh or look on the bright side or err towards kindness when life kicked you in the knee. Their data intake wasn't fettered by ego, and they were always willing to be surprised by others.
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zvi and
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Date: 2014-01-15 03:19 pm (UTC)(Although I was once taken aback to get a beta note on a story expressing horror at the sociopathy of a certain character whose actions I hadn't intended to be read as particularly negative, and while I did change the story, my first reaction was: "Wait, no, he's just the sort of clever person who's always thinking about all the possibilities in the world, and being able to conceive of unpleasant things doesn't mean you condone them - it just means you're not capable of not imagining them.")
I've admired a lot of technologically/mechanically bright people - the sort of natural engineers and inventors who were building rocket launchers in high school and who I would want on my side if society ever collapses - and I think one of their defining characteristics as a group would be confidence. They were people accustomed to problem-solving (something that either made them very good listeners when it came to others or very bad ones) and who went into daunting situations with the attitude that they could figure them out.
I've also known several people who were usually the smartest person in any room they found themselves in. Some were deeply uncomfortable with that fact; they always assumed that whoever they were talking to was at least as smart as them, if not smarter, and then were stymied by the lack of logic when that was proven false. Those who knew they were the smartest person in the room often fell into two camps.
First, there were those easily frustrated by people less quick or perceptive than they were. They tended to assume what people they were interacting with were going to say, and they were usually right, but it made them insufferable to deal with when they were wrong. They could be very impatient, wanting those around them to skip to the foregone conclusion. Their intelligence was very externally focused; they paid close attention when their own knowledge was involved and tuned out visibly when they didn't feel challenged or authoritative. They were also the kind who would play little conversational games to gauge the intelligence of someone they had just met.
The other kind were people who had learned to cope with being the smartest person in the room by cultivating a deep appreciation for absurdity. They had learned that intelligence does not actually grant you any meaningful power or authority in this world, and so there was nothing to do but laugh or look on the bright side or err towards kindness when life kicked you in the knee. Their data intake wasn't fettered by ego, and they were always willing to be surprised by others.