Not long after I started blogging I came across Ann Voskamp’s blog A Holy Experience, and I was instantly smitten with her gorgeous photography and her poetic words. I aspired to write like Ann Voskamp. She was my muse and my model.
It didn’t take long for my prose to begin to sound a teeny bit like Ann’s. Subconsciously I began to imitate her style and voice. I dropped articles like “a” and “an” and “the.” I started to use more fragments. I tried to make my writing more lyrical — I wanted my sentences to pulse with emotion like hers. I wanted my posts to be evocative, deep and spiritually dense.
The problem with this, of course, was that I stopped writing like me and I started trying — failing, of course — to write like Ann. And you and I both know there’s only one Ann Voskamp.
What I didn’t know then (and still, on some days, struggle to know now), is that there’s also only one Michelle, too. And each of us — Ann and I and you, too, my friend — has a God-given role and our own, unique calling to pursue and fulfill.
I still grapple with my voice. I still fall into the trap of thinking maybe I should try to write like someone else – someone who has more readers or more “Likes.” I’ll read an intriguing “How To” post by a well-known writer, and I think, “Maybe I should write more how-to posts.” I’ll read someone like Shelly Miller or Amber Haines or Kelli Woodford and I’ll think, “Maybe I should be more poetic.” Some days I think I should write fancier. Other days I think I should be funnier. Still other days I think I should be more Jesus-y.
Thankfully, although I do doubt and stray, I always come back to my own voice. I’m a concrete kind of writer. I describe what’s happening in the here and now. I don’t usually fancy it up with eloquent language or evocative imagery. It’s how I talk, too — fairly frank, without a lot of fluff in between. It’s how my whole extended family talks – we get straight to the point. [just ask Brad]
Turns out, according to Paul, this straight-talk might serve a purpose. “So if you speak to people in words they don’t understand, how will they know what you are saying?” Paul asks the Corinthians. “You might as well be talking into empty space.” (1 Corinthians 14:9, NLT).
Paul is talking about the gift of speaking in tongues, but I say the message applies to writing styles as well.
Poetry speaks to some, straight-talk to others. We’ve each been given a unique voice to reach different people, working together in the Body of Christ.
I believe it’s important, even necessary, to try on different voices as a writer, even to emulate other voices. The process helps us find our own authentic voice. I might not have come back to concrete me if I hadn’t first gone all Voskampy. I might not have realized I’m a conversational writer if I hadn’t first dressed my words in lyricism.
This whole writer-voice thing is a little like fashion. Sometimes you have to experience with different fashion styles before you settle into your own groove. For the longest time, I wanted to have an edgy style — all New York City, kind of funky, kind of cool. My sister’s that way – she dresses cool.
But the truth is, I’m a preppy at heart. I’ve always been a preppy. I could make a lip piercing look preppy.
So I dress preppy and I write concrete.
I know I’m talking about writing and fashion here, but what I’m also getting at is this: who are you at your core? What is the essence of you? How did God make you and what is it that makes you unique?
Go ahead, try on different voices, different styles. Go New York City edgy. Try on fancy or funny. But if it doesn’t fit, if it doesn’t feel right, take it off. Don’t keep on the mask, the costume. Don’t keep trying to be someone you’re not. Because God made you YOU for a very good reason.
[Next week we’re going to talk a little about David, because he’s got something to tell us about this topic, too.]
What about you? If you’re a writer, how would you describe your voice? And how did you uncover it? Or tell me about your fashion style – preppy? Funky? Edgy? Have you ever tried another style, only to realize it just didn’t fit who you are? {lots of questions – sorry!}
