When I talk at work, I feel that I put people to sleep.
I’m not paid to put them all the way to sleep, though. Just to pacify them enough into stop yelling.
I’ve spent a lot of time apologizing for other people’s mistakes and thanking thankless people. It’s almost a hum now.
And it is slowly killing my soul, I’m sure.
I’d rather be quiet.
Once, during a conversation with my sister, I used the term anti-social to describe myself. (My sister is a psychologist.) Her right eyebrow raised with my comment, as if she was considering sending me away for a 72 hour hold. (That’s some powerful revenge opportunity for a little sister)
So antisocial is the wrong term. I’m a quick learner.
I can now correctly state that I have been an introvert for my whole life. It’s an applicable term used amongst many writers, artists, and over-thinkers. I believe it’s because of all the details and being so in tune with everything going on that the weight prevents successful everyday interactions.
But the tone in my real voice is not what I’m really talking about here. I hope you’re not asleep.
It’s the writing tone, of course.
And my point is that tone really, really matters. If I’m putting my reader to sleep with my unenthusiastic word choices, lack of conflicting friction,or run on sentences, then shame on me.
Being exciting in my writing is wonderful. Extrovert heaven. But I can’t write like the sky is falling all the time. (But it could!)
There’s a lot to tone. And it’s not adjectives and adverbs.
It’s pulse. What is the pulse of my writing? Does it even have a pulse? Because if it’s dead, either strike it with some lightening or drop it into the shredder.
Does my tone make my writing worthy of extinction? Or does it woo my reader enough to keep on trucking through the muckity-muck of my manipulated alphabet?
And what keeps it (tone) consistent? Is it meditation or medication? Or just self-writer-awareness and hard work?
Tone is important. Noted.