When I hear a recorded version of my voice, I hate it. It sounds weird, and I immediately clear my throat trying to make it better. But my voice is my voice, and there’s not much I can do about it. I’m sure my husband would love to hear less of it, but that’s another story.
I attended an SCBWI writer’s day this past Saturday. Libba Bray was one of the amazing speakers. One thing she said stuck with me, and I’ll paraphrase: “Your voice is unique. No one else can write the way YOU write.”
I’m always admiring other writers. When I read a novel by Jodi Picoult, I marvel at her ability. Her voice draws me in. Her books make me think long and hard about previously held opinions. I wish I had her voice, but I don’t.
Instead, I have my own voice. When I speak, I might sound like one of the annoying crows that lands on my grass. But when I write, my voice is truly my own. Although I’m amazed by other writer's voices, I realize I can’t try to be like them. I've learned to rejoice in my own voice!