Hearing Voices

Joan of Arc did it; Socrates did it; even William Blake did it, but he voices I hear are not so much voices in my head as they are voices on a page. As I've been writing more over the last couple of years, I discovered that the voice in which I write is not my everyday voice. It began with the transition to e-mail, which allowed me to communicate in writing rather than through individual contact. I'm an introvert, and any communication I can accomplish without actually interfacing with a human is generally more comfortable for me. As I wrote in other formats (wayward journals that disappeared as quickly as they were begun, a book I still dream of writing), I came to realize the voice in my writing belongs to a woman who is unfamiliar to me. She is much more self-assured than I am; she says what she means; she is confident; she is unafraid; she often has a better vocabulary (depending on how many times she was awoken during the night by a 33" tall toddler-boy); she enjoys the semi-colon. She can be witty, forthcoming, and self-reflective, creative, empathetic, and clever. I don't know about you (but this isn't about you now, is it?), but I don't see these qualities in the me that is me. One of the reasons my enjoyment with writing is growing is that I LIKE that voice. I like HER better than the me that I know so well. I enjoy spending time with her, and I look forward to hearing what she has to say. I'm hoping that if I spend enough time with her, she'll become more a part of my daily life. In the meantime, you can check back here regularly to see what she's thinking about. If you could just get these deep thoughts, descriptions of Duncan's life, and ruminations on my knitting from me, then you wouldn't have a reason to read; regardless of what else the me's who are me are plotting, they're ALL about encouraging people to read. I'll see you back here.