It has more or less become a cliche but I think every writer wants to find their voice. I don’t mean to say others don’t have to. Just that when I am blogging here, I am more worried about my voice.
Maybe worrying is the last thing one should do when searching for their voice. Is it even searching? Maybe it is just finding. One fine or not so fine day, when a paragraph ends, when a word is typed or written, when you are just staring at what you have written, when you have stopped writing and are tearing up the pages or contemplating hitting the delete key…. It can appear. The voice I mean, maybe we will find it. And when we find it we might be old or young but from then on we become more alive.
Sometimes we will be dead and gone and someone who is learning what others write will stumble upon what you have done and they will dig in, find patterns, put pieces together. They will give it a voice. They will say this is the voice. You won’t know, because you are dead and you will not be able to agree or disagree.
We would then think that it is important to then find our voice while we are alive. That would be ideal but there is no guarantee. Maybe we can settle for something. Say that we have found it. Not really ‘say’, but we can ‘lie’ for our own sake.
The only thing I feel is to have that comfortable flow. If I want I can call it voice, or someone else can. but if there is no flow and if I am not comfortable, then what is the whole point?
I think my effort is always to not be uncomfortably stuck.