When It’s Real, We Want to Know More
Photo by Jason Rosewell on Unsplash
This post is a piece about the important of “voice.” But it is NOT just for writers. It applies to anyone who wants to communicate, be heard – and build solid relationships.
Stick with me. I promise you’ll see why.
Writing, after all, implies a relationship. Writers “talk” to their readers. They want their attention, even for a few minutes. They want readers to love or at least like them. They hope they’ll come back.
Isn’t that kind of acknowledgment all of us want from our relationships? We want our intimates – partners, parents, sibling, besties — to know us and stick with us. And we want to feel connected to our consequential strangers: bosses and co-workers, shopkeepers and neighbors, fellow dog-lovers and soup-kitchen volunteers. We want to know that we matter. Voice is what gets us there.
Writer’s Voice/Stranger’s Voice
When I become curious about a writer or someone I meet for the first time, it’s rarely because of the topic. More often, it’s because of that person’s “voice.” I want to know more.
If you have a favorite writer, it’s his voice that captures and seduces you. You think you know him. One of mine is David Sedaris. I would know his voice without seeing his byline. (David, if you read this, I’d love to meet in person!)
Voice tells me something about why a person sees the world through that particular lens. Humor, pathos, enthusiasm, depression, anger – it is all conveyed through voice.
It’s the same when we go to a party or a bar, or when we strike up a conversation with a stranger on a train. We depend initially on visual cues like clothing and mannerisms. But most often, there’s an indescribable and unique something that each person projects when he or she speaks. You don’t just hear it; you feel it…within the first few moments of meeting.
Finding My Own Voice
I was inspired to write about voice after receiving an email about a piece I’d written on Medium. It was from an old friend of my daughter’s, a former CNN reporter now writing for Psychology Today:
I read your awesome piece on finding myself (yourself!). I loved it. It reads like you talk and I think that is why it resonated with me. It was funny, relevant and I could connect easily…
And there it is: It reads like you talk. She heard my voice. To me, that’s the greatest compliment a writer could be given.
Novices often struggle to find their writing voice. I once did.
My writing career began in educational publishing and, then, in the late seventies, I migrated to magazines. I never had to “be myself” as the author of textbooks or teacher’s guides. Journalism asked more of me. I wasn’t the story, but I was telling it, and readers needed to trust me and be willing to “listen.”
“Blau!” my first editor and mentor, T. George Harris, bellowed at me, “you skip through life. Why are you lumbering on paper?”
T. George stayed with me through four painful — and, until the final product, dreadful — drafts, each only incrementally better than the one before. I know now how lucky I was. I was assigned to a legendary editor, who cared and saw who I was. He heard my voice in person and encouraged me to use it on paper. He wanted me to know and to hear myself.
Voice Comes From Deep Inside You
Your voice is individual, as unique to you as your walk, your personality, your fingerprints. As Meg Rosoff, a prolific writer, writes in the Guardian, “In your voice, your readers should be able to hear the contents of your mind, your heart, your soul.”
In person or on paper, voice is how people get to know you. It’s what makes them look for you. “Unless people like to read your take, your unique voice on a topic,” says Dew Langrial, author of many excellent pieces on writing, “you are just another writer.”
Gimmicks are no substitute for voice. Take James Frey’s A Million Little Pieces. He spun a harrowing tale about addiction, but his voice felt false. I was particularly distracted by his “stylistic acrobatics,” as was an Amazon reviewer, Brad Thomas Parsons, who described Frey’s deliberately unconventional approach to writing: “…no quotation marks, random capitalization, left-aligned text, wild paragraph breaks) may seem too self-conscious for some readers…”
I was one of them. Later, it was revealed that Frey’s so-called memoir was distorted and embellished. Frey was not only unapologetic, he went on to write other books. I had no interest; his voice turned me off.
What’s a “good” voice?
Remember what Potter Stewart, an associate justice of the Supreme Court, said about pornography? I know it when I see it.
The same could be said of a compelling voice – or a charismatic person, for that matter. Both exist in infinite varieties. Of course, those that appeal to me might not move your needle.
But there’s one characteristic that all compelling voices have in common: authenticity. The writer–the person–is being himself. You can “hear” him and almost see him.
For example, listen to John Gorman in his piece, “Where My Writing Comes From“:
How I write is how I think and talk in real life. The dad-jokes. The non-sequiturs. The surrealism. The gritty details. The pithy aphorisms. You’re getting the authentic me, just polished to a glimmering sheen through the magic of editing! And that’s important! Why? Because writing is a conversation between two minds, and it’s paramount to build rapport in that exchange.
Voices Are Infinitely Different From One Another
Since I have been writing for Medium, I’ve been exposed to a slew of other writers. I linger over a particular piece and look further at that author’s work because of how he or she sounds on the page. This is someone I’d probably like.
Helen Cassidy Page has a clear, authoritative-but-warm, professional voice She’s been writing for fifty years, and it shows. She clearly knows herself and is not afraid to tell you that. She’s also of my generation!
On the face of it, I’m an unlikely writer to have the curation success I’ve had. I’m seriously old and out of step with the important topics of the day. I don’t work in a happening industry; I’m not married or in a relationship; I don’t write about my insecurities or sex life (much); I don’t have young kids or pets. So if I don’t have compelling topics to write about, why do I get curated at a satisfying rate? I’m convinced it has something to do with my writing ability.
Tim Denning, has the voice of a guy sitting next to me at a bar. He’s not coy about his own success. He’s himself. No wonder so many readers love Tim’s voice.
Let’s be clear that the start is a slow burn. But the good news is that I wasn’t just a shit writer to begin with—I was a really shit writer, and a lot of time was wasted. You can definitely do better than me by avoiding a few of the pitfalls.
A recent find is Andrew Cho, who is fourteen years old. His first piece for Medium, “Being Broke with Rich Knowledge: Living Life Frugally,” is one I’ll share with my grandsons. Andrew’s voice is distinct and wise beyond his years, further amplified by his charming illustrations.
AH YES, amigos! I as well am one of The Broke.
I love The Broke. “The Broke” as in someone who doesn’t have a lot of money, has/wants to have good moral values, and has the willpower to budget their money and life. Lots of people are part of The Broke, including Mark. [Note: “Mark” is referred to earlier as a kid who “always wanted to wear the most luxurious watch, drive the nicest car, and go to the fanciest school….But he can’t afford any of that.”]
Being broke and having to live life frugally, The Broke are devious and ingenious from the beginning. I like to call these people the Clever Raccoons.
Adult voices. A teenager’s voice. Each different from the other, because…duh! No two people are alike! We take on the world as best we can and see life from our own unique vantage point.
Bottom Line: How to Discover Your Voice
If you’re uncertain about your voice, ask yourself questions like these…
- Who am I?
- Why do I want to connect?
- What matters to me?
- What do I want to share?
- What do I want others to know about me?
- Am I willing to be honest?
- Am I trying to be someone I’m not?
If you want to be read — and/or you want to forge great relationships — the key question is: Do you have the courage to put your real self out there–in person or on paper?
Especially if you’re not an old coot like me (!), the answers you give today might change five, ten, twenty, forty years from now as you acquire more knowledge, experience, and feedback.
You might become more daring and experimental–or more reserved and self-protective. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Whether your audience is one or thousands, whether you write for a living, for your own pleasure, or as an escape – or even if you don’t write at all — to connect authentically, just be yourself.
Gregg Hartnett says
Brilliant!!!
Melinda Blau says
When the First Annual Melinda Blau Appreciation Award is handed out….Greg, you are the winner. The rest of you, keep commenting and maybe someday you’ll be the lucky recipient!
Margaret says
Love this. It’s definitely your voice!! And stop calling yourself old. You have more energy, curiosity and enthusiasm for life than anyone I know!!!
Melinda Blau says
Thank your for loving this piece — and for your comments about me. Be advises, though, that calling myself “old” is not an insult. It’s a simple truth. Old doesn’t have to be slothful or disinterested or incapable! It only refers to age!
Berte says
Your voice is unmistakable. And so clearly you! I’m no winter, but I love reading/hearing what you say about writing. It translates so well into living an authentic life. Thank you!
Melinda Blau says
I beg to differ: You are a writer (not a winter, though). Even if you weren’t, you are a dear and generous friend, one of the “besties” I describe in this piece.
Holly Royce says
My I think you write comment is more about consequential strangers.
Just by coining that term I to me you have a marvelous writing voice. As you and others can tell your writing connects to my voice since I read what you write.
But I digress. Now to the consequential strangers. Since Covid lockdown I was jonesing for some connection and interaction with the most necessary inconsequential strangers.
Now that I am fully vaccinated and blood tests indicate I am positive for antibodies I can shout”Watch out world I’m on the hunt for those “strangers”. I have already interacted with several and the experience has definitely raised my endorphins.
As I proceed with my new normal masked existance I will use my learned 6’ft distanced voice and raise my endorphins and kick the cortisol to the curb.
Melinda Blau says
So glad you love the concept — and, even better, are living it. I certainly do. Soon, I’m making Paris feel like home because of the consequential strangers I meet in the dog part and as I walk around (masked, of course). I miss the Miami weather but at least it’s spring!