"Does
my voice sound too twangy?” That’s the question I asked fellow writers last
week in a writer’s group I attend monthly. As an author, I am always concerned
about my writer’s voice, but this time - it was my actual speaking voice that
had me apprehensive.
Two
weeks ago, I attended a creative, non-fiction essay workshop in Belfast and
someone from that group invited me to publish my work on a community radio
station in the Downeast and Midcoast areas. I accepted the invitation but
admitted to my new friend that I still speak with a Kansas inflection and may
not be able to pull off that “NPR” tone. She assured me that all would be fine.
“The way you speak is what will add to the depth of your stories,” she said.
My
writing group friends echoed her sentiment. Despite their encouragement, I was
still not convinced. To help soothe my concerns, the group recorded me as I
read one of my essays. Their feedback? I didn’t sound anything like myself.
“You start out in your natural speaking voice but then changed to a softer,
less impassioned version of you.” I was instructed to go home and listen to the
recording.
I
did as they recommended and was surprised to discover that what they believed
wasn’t my voice, I believed was and it is exactly how I hear myself. As a
result of this discovery, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about individuality;
the way we express our unique style and how we play that out within our
communities.
Most of us wish to be liberated individuals,
not succumbing to the “sheeple” way of life. However, we also don’t want to
disassociate ourselves completely from the family and friends that complete us
and are a part of something greater than ourselves.
I
think the same is true of language and the way we speak. For example, for me to
be a part of something greater, I spoke with an intonation and dialect as
others around me. Not only did I speak that way to be a part of
a whole, but as I learned during my days of linguistic study - I did that to be
understood in an agreed upon language. This is true for everyone, not only for
me.
So,
in a sense - our voices and our language belong to everyone. It’s not just ours
alone and it offers a bit of the familiar. This familiarity provides the springboard
into our individuality - our unique voice.
The
same can be said of my “NPR” radio voice, or the lack there of. The listeners
of that community radio station turn on that program to hear the familiar. That
doesn’t mean I should change my speaking voice but I might be careful to speak
so I can be understood. I should do my best to refrain from speaking “tin” when I mean “ten” or “buuuuuk”
when I mean “book”.
So,
if you happen to ever be in a quandary over your individual voice (written, spoken
or otherwise), I hope my little predicament and my little discovery helps you in some way.
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