Living 30 years does not make me a paragon of wisdom, nor does it make the many others turning 30 in 2025 a deified source of knowledge. Rather, i feel closer to Zoltar from Big (1988); a red-eyed, yawning machine that occasionally needs to be jolted awake but does, on occasion, hold some value. It is, however, a fairly momentous occasion to enter a 3rd decade succeeding one of great chaos, instability and formative growth, so reflections are packed full. Equally, I have spent the last 12 years sharing my thoughts on a number of things and, as we’ll get to later in this blog, have too often doubted the value this can often provide the right person at the right time. So, for the next 15 weeks, I’m sharing 30 reflections on life as I turn 30 years old. Today, I’m reflecting on voice and how it aligns with work (specifically my writing career).
FINDING MY VOICE
I’m actually quite envious of anyone who is at the stage in their life where they are finding their voice for the first time. Naturally, we’re all learning and re-learning things until the very moment we die but there is a moment where we become suddenly conscious of our individual voice and the things we have to say. Terrifying, confusing and a little bit exciting. The biggest mistake I ever made when finding my voice was believing that it had to exist within the constraints of whether others would constitute it as being worthy of attention. It’s a ridiculous thought but one that continues to echo itself as a whining inner bully throughout mine and many anxious and perfectionist peoples lives.
For me, the first time I properly felt an understanding of where my voice existed was at the dining table at my childhood flat with my oldest friend at the tender age of 18. We were both, for the first time in years, about to stop spending our evenings round each others homes playing FIFA and COD and about to head off to separate universities. A weird, slightly daunting time of life. I told him that I wanted to start a blog about my time at Uni, sharing insights and hopefully helping anyone else that found the concept as overwhelming as I had. I didn’t have a consistent plan for it. I didn’t have money in mind. I didn’t have any thought except the single thought that it sounded fun and could be good for people. I’m not sure I’ve felt that sort of writerly simplicity since.
The blog was slow to move as I wrote about freshers week and meeting people, about book, film and music reviews and life in general. Yet, sure enough, it gained some consistent traction and I saw interest rise. Mostly for musings on life and for book reviews. Two things I wasn’t sure would ever bring value to anyone except myself. Now, it wasn’t quite Jack Edwards level of university-blog-fame but it was enough to move me on to external publications (Thought Catalog, Unwritten, The Hippo Collective, The Rabbit, The Mighty etc) and twig in my mind that writing vulnerable, confessional pieces for others was my main voice. Knowing what your voice is, effectively, is discovering the sound and tone that resonates most authentically and passionately with the itchy little gut and soul inside of you.
SEPARATION OF VOICE:
Which brings us neatly onto the subject of separation. I guess in some sense we learn about the adaptability of creative writing in school and university. But I’m not sure we ever fully get an insight or an understanding of the minutiae of how to write for different platforms. Gosh, even at this point it still stresses me out. I do, however, have some form of creative categorisation - for want of a better word - policy. It stems mostly from an editors note I got whilst at Thought Catalog and one that long-time readers are probably bored of hearing about. I had submitted an article - the topic of which I can’t quite remember - and the editors note was roughly along the lines of “This is a lovely piece, but it feels more of a blog. People go to your blog to read about you, people come to us to read about them”. I sat back and thought about it for a while and clearly I’m still thinking about it. Thought Catalog and many of the other magazines I was writing for were self-help/lifestyle publications and there was a thin line between what counted as a blog and what counted as an article for them. A thin line, but a crucially important distinction. It’s true though. We come up with a million ideas every day and it matters where we decide to place that work - however small or big.
Perhaps one downside to that consideration as you get older is that monetary value also gets thrown into the mix. Sure, blogs offer monetisation opportunities but on the whole having an article commissioned for a paper or journal brings more guaranteed money. At which point, you’re then left with 3 main thoughts:
Who is this for and who does it provide the most value to?
Do I care about financial gain from this or not?
Do I want maximum exposure from this (depending on blog readership; blogs can be personal projects and publications can provide a larger audience to discuss deeper topics).
INTEGRITY OF VOICE:
At which point, things can go down a slippery slope. Once money is involved and once other publications join the conversation, retaining some form of vocal integrity becomes a decided effort. When you start, you believe it to be an unflinching moral duty to stick to your roots and personal voice and that nothing can throw you off that wagon. Quickly, you realise it is never as simple or as easy as that. Rather than a passion or a hobby, it begins to present itself as the only acceptable career. Cue the commodification of a previous method of therapy in order to sustain the possibility of a dream - ah, never a good sentence to hear!
I'm proud of myself that I've never strayed too far off the path I set myself at 18. I still believe in liberal ideals and will not write for some hideously bigoted journal for the sake of financial gain. But I have had to make decisions across my years writing about whether to continue writing for someone or whether to ignore doubts in my mind about whether I wanted to be associated with other articles. Quickly on that point, I stopped writing for external magazines for some time when other articles from colleagues were being green-lit that I was concerned by. Nothing violent or especially awful but enough to feel that I needed to reevaluate how I honoured the publication of my words. Again, never a simple consideration.
I'm not sure there's any one approach to this particular conflict but I have always believed that as writers and as humans, we have instinct and we have gut feelings. Sometimes, the integrity of your voice can slip and fade but you'll always know, eventually, when you're heading down a road you don't want. Whether that's writing for someone who holds opposing views to your own or whether it is simply a case of diluting your style. You know your self - no, you do - you know your voice and your style and you have to trust it. No-one else can make those decisions for you.
WITH ALL THAT SAID:
I've spoken mostly from the position of a writer and a creative - because that's what I am. That fact in itself comes back to this point of it being my blog and so people are largely coming to read these words to learn about my experiences. However, I think much of this conversation applies to any discovery of voice and how you apply it to work. You find it, you work to keep it clear and unified and to not stray from it and, even when money gets involved, the most important thing is where, how and why you first found that voice. That in itself is why I'm writing these reflections - to return and recover a lost purpose and a lost level of love for a simpler time as a writer.
As I said, for the next 15 weeks, I will be sharing similar blogs every Tuesday and Thursday. This Thursday will be about the concept of Home and Moving. Stick around to not miss one!
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