Voice To Connect
And how I killed my story before conceiving it.
Writing is solitary work. Most of it happens in my head before I can start typing it on my computer (or notebook). No one can give me the first words to carve my story with; before it can be read, I am the one to give it a voice.
I’m fine with solitude. Perhaps I enjoy my imaginary worlds and people too much. I have my book characters to keep me company, or my book boyfriends, as the current meme culture seems to call the romantic literature (male)leads.
Aside from this detour to book boyfriends… Yes, they are a fine company, but hardly the reason why I put myself through this wringer.
A voice within torments me too much to remain silent.
It has followed me since the first grade, through schools and universities, into my adult life. I’ve written so many stories that I’ve lost count. Sadly, I’ve also destroyed quite a few, declaring I’m done with it all.
I bitterly regret that one evening when I set my notebooks in flames, watching 15 years of my creation burn away. Not even a year passed when I crawled back to my computer and started writing again.
I almost hear it whispering when the sun glistens on the bitumen and the world seems like made of glass, and those thoughts and ideas come to me as though brought by some invisible hand (no, I’m not talking about Adam Smith).
I write to organize my thoughts about life: joy and the things that are meaningful to me. About heartache and pain and loss. And because I want to share them.
Therein lies the paradox.
I write because I must. I tell stories because I want to connect.
Sharing stories has never been easier. There’s no need to query to find an agent. All an author really needs is a finished manuscript, format it, and upload it to KDP, Royal Roads, or however they prefer to publish their story.
Anyone can do it, and that is what scares me.
Let me rephrase. I’m not afraid of competition; I’m afraid of rejection. Of being ignored.
Among the cornucopia of available options, with other authors vying for space and crowding social media feeds with their content, book promotion seems…well, unavoidable. At least if I want the readers to find it. To pretend otherwise is to reject reality. Even those of my author friends who scorn marketing have websites.
And marketing—it’s a tough job!
I’m much more comfortable with long, introspective posts about craft and my inspirations than summarizing what my book is about.
But I’ve learned to enjoy the creative aspects of it: constructing reels and carousels in Canva and hunting for non-commercially licensed images. I love writing these newsletter posts; they help me clarify my thoughts about writing and give form to issues I struggle with.
And thank heavens for peer support! It’s another lifeline. Without my writer friends, I’d go crazy in my own head. We banter on our calls, tell jokes (usually about sex and writing), and support each other in conquering this final frontier: marketing.
Reader magnet and what it taught me.
Byoyed by their encouragement, I started dabbling with a reader magnet. You know, a short story related to your manuscript to give away for free. With my multitude of ideas, and after finishing Blade and Lyre (a 100k+ word manuscript), writing one should feel like a breeze. So easy!
Uh-huh. Wrong…
The moment I opened MS Word and stared at the cursor, knowing the story’s only purpose is to attract readers, I froze. Words became a jumble, writing became abysmal and painful.
I banged my head on the screen until remembering what my creative writing teacher told me (paraphrasing since I don’t recall the exact phrase):
“Leave intention out. If you write with intention, you’re not writing with your own voice.”
I did a lot of soul-searching until accepting this truth: creation must be meaningful to me before it can become meaningful to others. That’s what drives my writing, and my intrinsic values should be my starting point, not anything external.
The struggle wasn’t so much with the reader magnet. It was viewing writing—something that I consider an essential part of me—as a tool. Yes, I can edit, take feedback, and adjust the story to match the reader's expectations, but not before it’s finished. Each story, no matter how ill-written or poorly structured, is born first because it needed to get out. Starting with reader expectations flips my ‘why’ around and twists my creativity into business development.
I’m not attempting to declare that business acumen is irrelevant. Only that it’s good to be aware of your motivation, as the words carved on the entrance of Delphi’s Oracle reminded those seeking fame and fortune: Know Thyself.
My lesson from my attempt at a reader magnet: I’m a values-driven writer. It defines me and is my strength, and, as is often the case, it’s also my weakness, since my biggest struggle isn’t finding my voice but having the courage to stand firm behind it.
Thank you for taking the time to read!