What’s on the iPod: Backyard Skulls by Frightened Rabbit
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for since late June. Today my six-burner, dual-fuel, shiny-as-hell Wolf range appears in my kitchen and will take up residence for the next few decades. It may sound very un-feministic of me to be so excited about an appliance, but my other creative outlet is cooking. This is a tool to me. I couldn’t be happier. Oh, and we’re getting a new fridge and dishwasher, but I digress. For me, it’s all about that 36-inch marvel.
It’s quite a step up from the 25-year-old, almond-colored Whirlpool with the knobs I can no longer read (cleaned off the numbers on two different sets of knobs) and the limitations of four burners when I really needed five. It will be a little bittersweet seeing that sucker go, for I cut my culinary teeth on that thing, learning how to cook not just vegetarian food, but gourmet vegetarian food. Chestnut sage soup, penne a la vodka, my own paella, risotto with smoked Gouda, chestnut souffle….
But there were a lot of burnt rices, overcooked pasta, and nasty little experiments along the way. Still, I kept at it until I found my sweet spot.
It’s like that in writing. I remember when I first began writing seriously, it was a struggle to find my voice. It’s a struggle new writers experience, especially young writers fresh out of high school or college or an English class led by a particularly tough teacher. You’re so busy following the rules, you forget to speak with your own voice.
Also, it’s because you don’t know your voice, do you? Most writers who have been working a few years have hit upon their voice. It does come naturally, but only if you stop letting the noise and the rules and the insecurities drown it out.
In order to find your voice, you should first:
Stop trying to impress. I don’t mean stop trying to write something impressive and compelling. That’s essential. What isn’t essential is trying to talk in a language that isn’t you. No five-dollar words where a fifty-cent one will do.
Stop laboring way too much over every word. I remember a client once struggling 12 edits in to a small project. Her objection was how to say “said” differently. That’s overthinking it. Yes, it’s important for writers to labor over word selection, but when it’s feeling unnatural to you and you’re second-guessing every syllable, it’s time to lighten up.
Stop relying on others to tell you what your voice is. It’s okay for someone to tell you how funny you are or how your writing strikes a chord with them. It’s not okay for anyone, client or instructor or otherwise, to tell you that you must write in this voice or that voice. I remember a friend being told by a teacher in sixth grade that her poems must rhyme or they weren’t real poems. I remember loving my friend’s mother even more when she marched into school, poetry books in hand, and set that teacher straight. Don’t let others dictate who you are — they don’t know you. And they may not know a bloody thing about voice.
Got all that? Now, let’s find your voice:
Pay attention to what impacts you. Among all that stuff you read or listen to every day, there are styles or thoughts you gravitate toward more than others. Knowing that you enjoy philosophical expression or poetic writing styles or even deadpan humor can help you find that voice within you that’s dying to be just like that. Or maybe you want to express yourself in all three ways? If so, call me. I’d love to read what you’re writing. The point is to tap in to those word-y passions, be they song lyrics or commercials or magazine articles, etc.
Let your personality show. I remember reading a dreadful article in the magazine I was trying to work for. It was dry, calculated, and boring. I thought I’d die if I had to write like that. So I just wrote the way I wanted and figured there were other jobs out there. Turns out the magazine editor was starved for content that had personality. So if you think you’ll be penalized for being yourself, think again. Let the words out and don’t compare them to anyone else.
Have a conversation. How you talk to your friends, how you talk to your coworkers (or acquaintances) or even how you talk to the likes of me might give you some clues about your voice. How would you write that blog comment, for example? Are you going to get all flowery and weird, or are you going to talk to me and try convincing me of your point or your opinion? Your voice is already there in your conversation. You need only to formalize it with proper grammar and sentence structure, and you’re home free.
Engage in more than a few what-the-hell moments. Some writers call this brainstorming or free writing. I call it opening a blank document and figuring whatever goes on that page doesn’t have to stay on that page. Just write for the hell of it and don’t worry about it being perfect. If you feel stuck in how to say it, just type the first thing you think of and move on. Say “What the hell, I can change it later” and allow yourself the chance to say something at all.
Writers, do you remember how or when you found your voice?
What makes your voice uniquely yours?
Did you have to train yourself into your voice? If so, what did that entail?
Leave a Reply