Talking to Myself

[Peg Herring]

The difference it makes is amazing. I've spent the last few days reading the current WIP aloud, and hearing it is better than reading it. Not better as in "This is so good." Better as in, "That sounds fake," or "This whole passage doesn't fit in this spot." So it actually makes more work, but it's productive work. I can deal.

Years ago, when I first started writing for public consumption, it was plays. I wrote for my students' dramatic productions because we couldn't find enough large-cast, girl-dominated, funny shows. Back then I would print off two copies of the script on my clunky computer with my clunky printer, which took eons. Then I would go down the road to my mother's house, and we'd read it aloud, alternating lines, to hear the sound of it and figure out how long the show would take on stage. I learned from that my tendency to say too much, to explain more than the audience wants to hear. (My friends probably know it from my conversations, but they're too polite to say it.)

Now I read alone, but I don't mind. The royalties from the plays still trickle in every once in a while, and what I learned back then serves well with novels, too. Hearing is another way to edit: to prune, to fine-tune, to improve. And listening to my own voice is like having my mother back, which isn't a bad thing.

[Peg Herring]

The brain is an interesting tool, yes? It takes a lifetime to learn how to use it, though.

[Dana King]

I always read aloud during at least one, usually two rafts of anything I write. Even though reading is visual, we hear the words in our heads as we read, so they have to sound right. As the author, hearing it through our ears is a better test than "hearing" it in our heads.

When I was a musician, I found reminders to myself to do something differently were more effective when I spoke them aloud. To think, "take a bigger breath" was not as effective as actually saying "take a bigger breath." It may be a similar dynamic at work.