When I first started learning to write, and I mean really
learn, a teacher told me that I should read everything I wrote out
loud. “Don’t just hear it in your head,” he told me, “feel it in your
body.”
Years later, I still give this advice to people. It helps me
tremendously. Reading something aloud rather than just hearing it in
your head is a completely different experience. It’s viceral. You feel
the vowels roll around inside your mouth, you feel the impact of the
consonants. The tempo catches your heart and the volume aches to be
released in your throat.
We don’t read aloud anymore. We don’t tell stories to each other. We’ve forgotten how to use our voices.
I still love reading the written word and I practice all the time. Due
to the accident (where my head was smashed against a steering wheel
twice in less than a second at about 70 miles per hour), I’ve had
problems with a slight stutter that sneaks into my voice when I’m not
paying attention. I also tend to slur when I need to say words like
“sophisticate” and “sophmoric.” I’ve had to slow down my speech so my
mouth can keep up with my mind. Somewhere between those two organs,
there’s a disconnect, a malfunction, or a short circuit. Maybe all the
above.
I don’t just love writing stories, I love reading them and I love
telling them. The accident didn’t take away my love, but it did take
away some of my skill.
But every night, I’m practicing. I read something quietly to myself,
letting the words mold my lips and tongue. Feel the breath in my lungs
push up through my teeth. I can feel a good story creep up through my
shoulders and make the back of my neck tingle. Every once in a while,
the emotion gets too much and it explodes through the top of my head.
The best stories will do even more.
Leave a Reply