
Writers are often told that they need to find their own authentic voice. There is however very little advice on how to do that except to keep writing. Somewhere in the process of writing we’re told your voice will magically appear.
A couple of months ago I joined a community choir. I joined because I’m relatively new to the area and wanted to meet new people. I’d also been feeling pretty low and knew that choirs are good for your mental health. The choir didn’t require me to audition which is the only reason I felt able to give it a go because I firmly believed I wasn’t much of a singer.
This belief came from an unfortunate comment from a music teacher when I was 17. Since then I’ve been convinced that I’m a bit rubbish at singing. I would join in if there was a sing-along but only so long as I was sure no one could actually hear me.
The first week at choir was fairly terrifying. It said on the website you don’t need to read music but the first question I was asked was, ‘Do you read music?’ To which the answer is a very definite, ‘No’. The choir leader told me not to worry and said, ‘If the notes go up, then go up and if the notes go down, then go down’. So I gave it a go and, after about week 3, I realised I was enjoying myself. Singing was fun. I still wasn’t great at it but I was enjoying trying.

This week my choir was invited to sing at the village show. That was half an hour of singing. In public. Cue severe panic! Serious amounts of practice happened this week. And as I sang on my own in my writing shed something strange happened. I relaxed and I realised that I could actually hit those notes. Maybe it’s just a fluke, I thought. Maybe I only sound okay in here.
In the marquee at the village show as our choir leader stood in front of us and the first notes rang out, the fear returned. My voice lost its power. The notes squeaked out. Then when we got to the song I knew best, I thought ‘Come on, you can do this.’ And the strange thing happened again. The voice that had returned as I’d practised was brave enough to come out in front of all those people. And not just for that one song. It stayed with me for the rest of the set and it felt amazing. It felt authentic. I felt heard. Not only by the lovely people who’d braved the rain to see us but by myself. For once I was standing up and allowing myself to be heard by me.

You might be thinking at this point ‘Why is she going on about singing?’ It’s because lots of the writers I’ve worked with have lost their writing voice in the same way as I lost my singing voice. Often that’s happened because someone at school convinced them they couldn’t write. Or maybe because they got feedback on their writing which was harsh. Or because life has been difficult and they’ve lost touch with the part of themselves which connects with their creativity.
We all have stories to tell. There is only you can tell that story in your own unique way. That’s why it’s important to find your voice. It’s an essential part of who you are, a vital part of your creative soul.
So coming back to how to find your voice. First, trust that it’s there. Trust that it will reveal itself. It may take time. You might need a little patience but it will arrive. Secondly, and this is the hard bit, let go of the fear. It was fear that choked up me. I’d internalised someone’s tactless comment over half a lifetime ago and let it become part of how I saw myself. It takes courage to let go of the beliefs that hold us back. When we write there is often an agenda and that puts pressure on us. It’s hard to find our voice when we’re worrying about all of that as well.
So write just to write. I only had the courage to try to hit those notes because no one was listening. That’s why Julia Cameron’s morning pages work for people or Natalie Goldberg’s writing practice. It’s writing only for you, writing as soul work rather than for any particular purpose. Then keep going. Keep putting those words on the page and it will happen. Your voice is in there. You just need to give it the opportunity to find its way out.
Images from Unsplash and Pixabay

This has inspired me to keep writing Alex. Thank you. (PS. I really miss your writing for well-being sessions).
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This has inspired me to keep writing Alex. Thank you. (PS. I really miss your writing for well-being online sessions).
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That’s lovely to hear, Judith. Keep going, good things will happen! (PS. I’m doing some thinking about the writing for wellbeing and I’ll let you know when I’ve come up with a plan)
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