Losing Your (Writing) Voice

I’ve always written.  I’ve written poorly.  But I wrote.  I wrote furiously.  I wrote heavily, awkwardly, joyously.  I wrote.

The tense goes past.  I wrote.

Sometime in the past few years I’ve lost my writer’s voice.  Things in my head weren’t clamoring to be expressed in type.  And in many ways, I just stopped having things to say.  I’ve lost my writer’s voice.  So too went my speaker’s voice.

It’s strange to have a mind that never shuts down and then, suddenly, it has no sound.  It runs at the same speed.  Things are happening.  Things are processing.  But there’s no sound.  With no sound there is no meaning.

I think I’m explaining what is obvious to people with writer minds.  There is no thought without writing.  And when you have no thought there is no writing.  That paradox is almost impossible to break from.

So you just have to start.

I’ve lost my writing voice.  Now it’s time to find it.


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