I learnt an awful lot at the Press Publish Conference in Portland on the weekend. I am going to share as much as I can with you over the next week. As usual these things will weave themselves in and out of the fabric of our farmy pages. Much like this post. (And first I would like to thank you for the incredible comments on the Portland Page. Those comments underline once again what a wonderful collective we are – a team of goodness and care. The Fellowship).
This morning though I need to answer a question that a girl asked of the Publishing Panel on Saturday afternoon at the Press Publish conference.
“How long did it take you to find your voice?” she asked the Panel. Her speaking voice was hesitant. She was a small woman, dove grey, lightly scented. I watched her, she had been taking big breaths to lead up to that question causing a flush in her face. She blinked slowly and swallowed as she handed back the microphone. I knew exactly what to say to her and drawing my own breath I turned for my own microphone but someone else already had it. And the editor speaker spoke and the lovely woman who was a merchant banker spoke and the published authors spoke and then I felt that maybe enough had been spoken. So I hesitated and the moment had gone. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the brightness of the panel. I dimmed and the girl slowly faded back against the wall and I watched her as the questions rolled on and I missed my chance.
I wished I had just taken the microphone and spoken. I had been intimidated and am now haunted by this girl. So here I am back with my own Fellowship Family. I know that this young woman will probably not be reading (though we have many new readers who I hope will introduce themselves in the Join Us page). But here is my answer anyway.
“You have already found your voice. Do not hesitate to use it. Each voice is individual and perfect for who you are and where you are now – to hide it and dress it up until it sounds like every other voice will never work. You have your voice already. You have not lost it and so you do not need to begin a journey to find it. You have the words and the rhythm and the sound track. It is already there changing and moving with your own breath. You just have to put your fingers on the keys and write this moment down.
Here is what I do to keep my writing honest – I write exactly how I speak. In fact I call it Writing Out Loud. I say the words in my head as I bash away at the keys. (It is exactly the opposite of reading when we do not say the words at all – we simply read.) Then, when the words are on the screen, I go back and edit out all the repeats and extraneous words. I fix the spelling and grammar. I chuck out at least half of what I have written. I move stuff about so it is simple and makes sense but that is all. Always reading the sentences aloud in my head. It is a bit like taking a picture then running it through Photo Shop to push the contrast and clarify the edges, bring the colour back in and add a bit of noise. But it is always the picture I took. Write. Your voice is there. Just write as you speak.”
I hope the girl will nod and smile and unbite her lips then lift her fingers and just write. 
Timatanga Moana and Tane Mahuta were making a lot of noise yesterday afternoon. They are not always beautiful are they. I should have got the tape recorder out for you but it is not a gentle sound by any means. Maybe tomorrow.
Interesting dates on the farm blackboard.
Good morning. Chickens take 21 days to hatch. Poppy will take 21 days to come back into heat. Poppy was possibly,( maybe, fingers crossed) bred on March 11. The eggs are in a safe place and should start hatching this weekend. And Poppy is showing no obvious signs of coming back into heat. Yet. I am hanging on Tenterhooks.
I hope you have a lovely day. I hope you use your voices.
Your friend on the farm
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
74 responses to “Did you Find Your Voice?”
I did a play called “Working.” There was music. I was a waitress with a line that used ” Sotto voce. ” Each rehearsal, each run-through, I would yell, “Sotto Voce!!!” I was fourteen and had absolutely no clue what this meant. So, I said it loudly. It seemed like this would be so. And not a person told me otherwise. BUT, as it turns out, “sotto voce” means saying something as an aside. using a soft voice. We did this play for a competition and I received a note on this error. I felt bad. Now, I wonder if I could have pulled off ironic. No matter, finding your voice is something I’ve not found yet, but keep trying. Even if it means screaming soft Italian words.
I don’t think I have an audible voice. I’m “The kind of person who apologises when someone else stands on my foot on the bus”.
Always taking the defensive stance.
My voice is visual. The things I make, the photographs I create and the occasional painting or drawing..
Lately, since I began blogging I have begun to write a little, well ALOT if you count my university paper, but I doubt I shall ever be a speaker. It’s just not in me. The habit of a lifetime to believe that everyone knows more than me. That is who I am, a watcher.
The world needs its witnesses too.
I’m with you Celi! The voice is there .. A friend who is a great writer said to me, that I have a strong voice. Like you, I write the way I speak! All me 😀
Finding your voice beautifully, expressed 🙂 Mine works similarly when it wants to be heard; there’s lot of words come out, get tided up, shifted around and sometimes parked for further consideration. I find reading and commenting on other blogs keeps my thoughts and voice tuned… someone mentioned a choir. It was finding my spot in the blogging choir that cemented it for me.
I saw that sweet quiet girl just that moment, then she vanished. You may not have answered her question but you answered mine. I think several of your fellowship including Misky has a good bead on it. I’m a woman without formal education and always second guessing my audacity to write. But write I must and I write like I speak, hopefully better since the opportunity to edit is not always available in conversation. I catch myself asking “did that really just come out of my mouth?” I’m just an old woman with foot in mouth disease and a cane to kick it around. 🙂
Meeting you and your lovely friend at the conference was a treasure. You belong with the Fellowship. I love that word audacity – suits you perfectly c
That photo of Godot did wonders to brighten this somewhat dark day for me.
This wonderful post and all the Fellowship comments may inspire me to break out of my torpor and start writing again !
But before I write anything I must say something.
I love Boo for his nobility and loving heart, and I am in love with Tima for her beauty, her audacity and serene self confidence.. even when asleep her smile speaks volumes – much of it repeating her mantra : : I am totally a home in my world, and I know that my world is a wonderful place… love to you all, Valerie
Love to you too Valerie, whenever you are ready to start writing again we are right here waiting.. yours is a genuine voice.
As I have said my connection to the panel session broke about ten minutes before the end and I did not see/hear that particular lady speak. I am so sorry that even at the end of ‘elegant sufficiency’ you did not reach for the mike and leave her some special words to remember. Actually you did that early on the Qs also and I was ‘screaming out aloud’: ‘Celi, go on, go on’. 🙂 ! I admit to a big personal fault in commenting . . . reading a post thoughts and words simply seem to appear in my mind and then my keyboarding just gets away from me . . . somehow I always feel you and I are sitting on your farmy verandah talking and talking and talking . . . heart and soul and my brain not always thinking whether I am clear and logical . . .
I stopped writing for quite a while, and have been encouraged by you and others to tell my truth. I want people to really understand how I feel. I want to inspire, make others aware of my diseases and educate. I will begin again, soon.
Good. I am glad you are starting to write again.. c
Hi Celi, I thought I would respond to this one. I write exactly as you do. I “write out loud” as you say. My husband has had to write numerous emails for several companies, and struggles with it so much. I always told him to write just as if he is speaking to someone, as he’s an eloquent salesperson and charms the life out of anyone on the phone. But when it comes to the written word, he is halted. Stalled. Says he just can’t come up with the words. I was thinking a lot of that had to do with his slowness of typing (he’s kind of a hunt and peck kind of guy, although he does use “home row” for typing and all 10 fingers.) I finally got him a Dragon speech recognition system, so he could just “speak” what he wanted to write/type, and it would translate that to the written word for him. That did not work either. (I can type almost as fast as I think.) Sooo, my conclusion is that some people are just “hard-wired” not to be able to write out loud, or vice versa. It comes naturally to some of us too. Those are my 2 pennies in the matter. And I will continue to read your blog each and every chance! You enlighten me, surprise me, concern me, and make me laugh! Take care. xoxo
I think you might be right.. John is the same way.. must be hard.. c
Yes, I cannot imagine being not able to write out loud. It’s part of who I am… Hugs. I hope all is well on the farmy! I guess I’ll find out tomorrow first thing tomorrow, since I am on the West coast!
I’m like your husband and John , writing in my own voice is very difficult for me.
But Gerlinde, your posts are fantastic!
I think it might have something to do with how extroverted or introverted a person is. My spouse is very much the extrovert, happily chattering away, could sell you your own dirty sox and you’d be delighted to buy them. I’m the introvert, my talking happens through my fingers and keyboard, but it’s spoken in my head first.
I am very much the extrovert and type my thoughts as I speak them, Aquila. However, my husband really is an introvert but is an incredible salesperson. He trained himself to be a good salesman over the past 30 years, but bring him to a party where he doesn’t know anyone and he’ll stand in the corner.
It doesn’t seem to run that way in my family. The quiet ones write like they talk and the outgoing ones just don’t seem to write much or well, a couple of them don’t seem to have an off switch when they’re talking though and it would be easier if they’d write instead.
I do have an outgoing brother who talks nonstop, but his artistic outlet is sound mixing and film, not writing. I, like you, would wish he’d write his thoughts instead. (I have a “secret” timer where I can only withstand 30 minutes of his talking then must excuse myself to do other things.) But we are family!
You are exactly right. I have always written letters and now blog posts, just like I talk. People used to say that to me about my letters and later on about my emails, so it must be true. I have stayed with it because then it feels like you’ve had a conversation with someone, more personal, than just some contrived words. I hope the woman reads what you’ve said. She might, you know. xx
Hi Celi, I have been blogging for a few months, I am not a confident writer, I do reread and edit a lot, so it takes so much of my time. Your answer to finding your voice was spot on. I write as I speak too, but since I am now airing my voice in this weird and wonderful sharing Blogesphere world I am battling to get the TIME balance right. Farming , growing veg and rearing livestock is a busy lifestyle . I am also a craftoholic and my latest passion is willow. I used to write songs, but here I have to resist all temptation to join in with poetry and writing prompts, thinking I will do that when I can no longer bend to pull out the weeds!!
I could really learn a thing or two from your ability to keep to a routine ….. An early morning blog fix and only return again at coffee break!!
The Kitchens Garden is an inspiration. Thankyou. 💜🐝💚👒💛🐣❤️🚜💙
this is a very sweet and touching post. I often get like that woman when I am in a crowd and want to ask a question. it rises up inside sort of choking me and
this mean part of me is sometimes saying to the curious side “silly, that’s not a very good question” and then I overrule her and ask it flustery and red-faced
anyway. So I can relate to both her and you, wanting to answer, but waiting and then being haunted by not speaking. I love the little o-shape piggy mouth. So
sweet, like crooning a Sinatra tune. And i love the dark barn interior. Now I want you to put a real scratch and sniff as well as recordings. I feel like I can smell
that space. All wood and hay and falling light and coolness and warmth and animal bodies all at the same time. How rich.
Such good advice! Good writing comes from that place of truth. If you have the courage to write it, it’s always worth it. Isn’t it sad that so many feel like they don’t have a worthy voice!
You have written very well again. Thanks!