Voice

I’m just back from 55 rejuvenating hours in Minneapolis. Can’t you just hear the pep in my voice? The fresh vigor in my tone? I spent all day on Saturday at a writers’ seminar in St. Paul, a conference on writing and faith where I heard authors Anne Lamott, Patricia Hempl, Thomas Lynch and others read from their work and offer the 500 aspiring writers in the audience advice and inspiration. It was, in short, heaven.

I learned an awful lot. Just listening to those esteemed writers read their words; just sitting there quietly, soaking in their rich poetry and prose, ripe with breathtaking imagery, was enough. But I also heard each of them advise something in particular that really resonated with me. Each of the writers there, in one way or another, spoke about finding and trusting their own voice in their writing.

This simple advice comes at a very good time. I’ve been reading a lot lately – web zines, articles, books and especially blogs. And I find myself falling into an all-too familiar pattern: I am comparing.

“Wow. Her blog sure is fancy. Look at that template. Man those are crisp photos…she must have a really good camera.”

“Hey, how’d she get 94 followers? Why does she have 94 and I only have 33? That's totally not fair.”

“Why’d she get 18 comments? Her post isn’t that great.”

This one is wittier than I am; that one is laugh-out-loud funny. She’s more poignant. He’s more insightful.

And the clincher: she’s godlier than I am. A nicer, more patient mother – I can tell the way she writes about her kids…why is she never snippy or downright crabby like I am? She's craftier, too – she makes fun, holiday-themed crafts with her kids, pulling out tissue paper, scissors, glue, string and fashioning adorable, Martha Stewartish decorations, while I resort to the lame Hobby Lobby peel-n-stick rubber ghost collage.

She’s more genuine, more loving, more compassionate. She’s a better person.

And that’s when I begin doubting what I have to say and how I say it. And the revising begins. A little polish here, some chiseling there, buff and shine, and suddenly I’m trying to write like someone else, emulate someone else, fashion a prettier, cleaner, holier version of myself. Suddenly I’m trying to be someone else.

Anne, Patricia and Thomas reminded me that I need to spend less time envying others’ talents and focus instead on honing my own unique voice, gritty and crabby though it may be. Hearing their words, each so unique and different from the other, reminded me that God has given me a particular way to use my own voice, a voice that may reach some in a way that a godlier, sweeter voice might not.

So I’ll end this post with two quotes, one from Luke and one from Anne Lamott. Today these seemingly disparate pieces of advice meld together to remind me that God has given me a unique voice for a reason, not so I should envy and covet others’, but so I can speak of God and his work in a way that’s authentic and true – true for me, and I hope true for others, too.

“Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions” (Luke 12:15).

“If something inside you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it.”  -- Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird

Are you using your unique voice as God intended? Are you telling the truth as you see it and understand it? Are you taking risks to use your God-given voice in a way that might impact someone else?

We don't need to envy someone else's talents, someone else's voice. Each one of us has a unique voice, unlike any other; each one of us has a unique way in which to use it.

Thanks, Anne. Thanks, Luke. I needed that.