Finding my voice..
I’ve had a niggling voice tripping me up every time I try to write something for the longest time. If I’m not at work, it tells me there’s no point even starting because everything I write down will be useless anyway.
The voice has stopped me from having an opinion in writing. With spoken words I have no filter to speak of, I will discuss anything with anyone and as people who know me will tell you: I have no problem expressing an opinion. But when it comes to putting pen to paper and actively creating something new, whatever it might be, I’ve had interminable writer’s block.
Ten years ago, I couldn’t put the pen down. I would get told off in every lesson for writing instead of listening to my teachers. Then, somewhere along the track of training to be a journalist, I stopped creating for me. It became work and only work.
Anytime I tried to actually formalise one of the ideas I’ve dreamt up, the brutal sceptic in me delivered a mental backhand before I could get anywhere. I let the fear of creating something terrible stop me creating at all.
I think it’s time to say: fuck that. I want to start a new chapter, one where I tell the bullies in my head to find somewhere else to sit and take my spot at the controls back.
Before I even grew into double digits, I’d tell anyone who’d listen that I was going to be a journalist. Achieving that dream still feels surreal sometimes but along the way I retreated from creating freely outside of work.
When you become a journalist, you take on the responsibility of telling other people’s stories accurately, fairly and creatively. That responsibility often becomes incredibly personal. You find out a person’s entire life story and then you have to hope that they, and your editors, are happy with how you translate their words into a successful story.
The profession has a duty of care, morally and legally, that I’ve misjudged. While being a mouthpiece for other people, a part of me has become convinced that I should stifle my personal voice to maintain that duty of care.
Acting as a voice piece for other people can make you feel like your own experiences do not belong out in the public sphere. As a journalist being objective is key, so you shrink away from sharing your own experiences in the same space that you operate in on a daily basis. Openly discussing your experiences feels as though you’re risking your work and your personal lives clashing in an “unprofessional” way.
Thankfully, I’ve come to realise something: that sentiment is bullshit. I can still do my job responsibly and thoughtfully while sharing my experiences. I can pursue my personal goals while achieving professional ones.
Spending so much time invested in the experiences of others has helped me realise how much I have to share too. I tell people's stories and spin my own tales. My life has been a really weird whirlwind of experiences and that’s probably not going to change, so why not share that with a few people?
My voice has worth and I’m going to learn how to use it for myself too. It’s time to let it all hang out.
