I actually think you're a good communicator (at least when writing). Don't forget that LessWrong tends to nitpick, and don't fall into the trap of aiming at perfection by trying to make everyone happy. Keep in mind that commenters almost always tend to be more negative than the average reader, people who like or are indifferent to your ideas will generally not comment. Instead of worrying about minimizing the amount of bad reactions or misinterpretations your posts will cause, focus on maximizing the amount of good reactions and insightful realizations they will cause, even if you get less feedback on the second. "Premature optimization is the root of all evil."
Obviously it's fine to worry a little about bad reactions. But if you're calling yourself a bad communicator I think that's a sign you're worrying far too much, because I find myself nodding along with your posts about 10x more than I find myself wondering what you're trying to say. Most "good communicators" are harder for me to understand than you, so I think you deserve to give yourself a better label.
Maybe we need you to start a new sequence: On Innate Social Ability.
Thanks.
I know that I'm actually far above average after controlling for the complexity of the material that I'm trying to convey, but nature doesn't grade on a curve: it's not enough to be at the 99th percentile of academic mathematicians to actually successfully convey ideas to a broad audience of people without technical backgrounds :D.
I'm glad that you're understanding what I'm writing, but as a practical matter it seems as though I've been failing with > 50% of those who I've been trying to reach.
At age 17, my future looked very promising. I had overcome a crippling learning disability, and discovered how to do research level math on my own. I knew that the entire K-12 infrastructure had failed to figure out how to teach the skills that I developed, and so I felt empowered to help others learn how to think about the world mathematically.
Things didn't go as I had been hoping they would. My years between 18 and 28 consisted of a long string of failed attempts to help people learn math, and to promote effective altruism. I learned a lot along the way, but I didn't have the outsized impact that I aspired to. On the contrary, I was only marginally functional, and I alienated most of the people who I tried to help. I found this profoundly demoralizing, and struggled with chronic depression. If I had died at age 28, my life would have been a tragedy.
Fortunately, at age 29, I'm still alive, and after spending a decade wandering in a wilderness, I've gotten my act together, and am back on my feet.
What I finally realized out is that my failures had come from me having very poor communication skills, something that I had been oblivious to until very recently. Recognizing the problem was just the first step. It's still the case that most of what I try to communicate is lost in translation. I know that the issue is not going to go away overnight, or even over the next 6 months. Sometimes it's frustrating, because my self-image is so closely tied with my desire to help people, and even now, in practice, most of my efforts are fruitless.
But I'm not concerned about that. I probably still have 30 or 40 productive years ahead of me. I'm ok with the fact that no matter how hard I try, I fail most of the time. Y-Combinator founder Paul Graham emphasizes the importance of relentless resourcefulness. Every failure is a learning opportunity. I know that if I keep experimenting and learning, eventually I'll succeed. Figuratively speaking, I know that even if I lose dozens of battles over the next four decades, in the end, I'll win the war. And that's enough to keep me going.
Something analogous is true of everyone who has a strong passion, and is willing and able to learn from failure. Steve Jobs expressed a similar view in his 2005 Stanford commencement address (transcript | video):