On mentors and coaches

Not many weeks go by when I don't think about Bill Mould, left, who was as close to a life mentor as I've had. Let me correct that: He WAS my life mentor. And I miss him terribly. There's so much I'd want to tell him, were he here.

I met Bill when I was a college freshman and he was the dean (known as "the master") of South Carolina College, the honors program at the University of South Carolina. He shepherded me into intriguing classes designed to build upon my synthetic open-mindedness and help me grow. And I had a lot of growth to do; we decided I'd arrived at college with little ego, willing to be a lump of clay that was ready to be formed. (In our view, that was a positive. Beginner's mind, right?) I changed mightily in my four years as an undergraduate; indeed, it took me several years to catch up with the new self I'd discovered.

His mentorship didn't stop there. Later Bill and I were fellow actors in a couple of theater productions. Still later we were friends who'd both recently come out as gay at very different points in our lives.

Bill was sometimes uncomfortable with my thinking of him as a mentor; he thought of us as friends. But he was a natural mentor and couldn't help himself. He was always an open ear when I struggled with decisions, be they professional, artistic, or very personal. Sometimes he was an adviser in ways I continue to appreciate since his death in 2015. And he was always a model of what he preached: lifelong learning and the ability to change, grow, and take on the adventures of life. A French professor and university administrator, he was also an actor-director and, after leaving academia relatively early to build a new life in Washington, D.C., he became a sculptor and ceramacist.

I'm grateful for him, and for all who've in some way served as mentors to me.

I never thought of myself as a mentor, though. And yet in 2024, I signed up to be a professional mentor through the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. Now, I'd mentored my own college and high school students throughout the years — it's often part of the job — but I'd never done it in a professional context. So taking up that role was a leap for me. Maybe, I thought, I'd have something to offer a young person embarking on a career in traditional journalism.

So imagine my surprise when I was connected with an extremely accomplished woman far from her college years who'd worked in alternative media and probably half a dozen other capacities! As I read the website of Daralyse Lyons, my mentee, and learned of her books, publications, art, TED Talk, and more, I thought there was no way I could have anything to offer her.

Turns out that soon after we first met, Daralyse embarked on work in traditional media — first in development, then as a publisher! I had no experience in either of those roles. I feared our monthly Zoom talks would be a waste of her time. And I said so.

But our relationship clicked from almost the beginning. I realized that serving as a reflective listener was the biggest part of mentorship, at least as we experienced it. And that's probably most of what Bill Mould had given me, as well. It's hard to overestimate what it means to be seen, acknowledged, and affirmed for who you are and what you want. True, there were a few bits of perspective I could pass on to Daralyse about the editorial life of a newspaper (I had been at six of them, after all, including The New York Times), and she was able to adapt and use them, to a degree. But being a mentor, I found, was mostly about lending an ear.

For some reason lately I've been thinking about how mentorship and coaching are alike and yet different. They both seek to help someone, most obviously. But mentors usually approach their task from a position of expertise. Coaches aren't doing that, which I think many clients initially misconstrue. They may hear "life coach" and wonder what sort of egotist thinks they're in a position to give advice about life, for God's sake!

But when I work with clients, I'm not offering myself as the answer man. The whole experience is not about me. It's about the clients: what they want but maybe haven't quite articulated; directions they might want to go that deserve experimentation and prioritization. I want to help clients set intentions or goals that are authentic to them, intentions or goals that will follow their curiosities and interests to lead them to their best selves. Often accountability is part of that experience. Dialogue is certainly involved, an essential method of growth since Plato and Socrates. Sometimes I confront the client with discrepancies in their beliefs or aims, and I might even offer the occasional suggestions. But reflective listening is maybe the most important skill I practice.

It occurs to me that I wasn't much of a mentor with Daralyse. She didn't much need my expertise. But I might've been a successful coach, just in a less formal manner than my current professional practice.

Mentors and coaches can both be useful, for reasons practical and conceptual. But I find we talk a lot about the benefits of mentors. (Seems like commercials exhorting their importance run ad nauseam on MSNBC.) Perhaps we can talk more about the benefits of coaching, a tool and a relationship solely designed to help you do what you want to do.

Coaching works. If you've never given it a shot but are intrigued, why not set up a 15-minute consultation via my website — or with another coach you might like? Give yourself the adventure of examination, action, and growth.