I've written (elsewhere, on Trailer Park Karma) that there's a strategy to my voice. Likely there is one to yours, too, even if you don't realize it. And if you don't realize how influential the way you sound can be, then you might be missing out. Start giving it some thought.
Of course, how I "sound" in writing is key to my work life. It may not be as important to your ability to get and keep jobs. Or is it?
The other day I attended a local simulcast of TEDxWomen. [If you're not already a fan, you'll hear nothing but praise from me on the whole TED bunch, so I encourage you to spend some time looking at their bazillion videos. Fair warning: Exploring TED is best done when you have a good chunk of leisure time on your hands.] One of the day's speakers, Rachel Simmons, has written books about girls and culture, and she's the co-founder of the Girls Leadership Institute.
Rachel's TED talk was opened by a true story of rather typical friendship heartbreak, told by the junior high girl who lived through what most of us have. "Friendship is like kryptonite to girls," Simmons says.
Later in the 18-minute presentation, Simmons describes and demonstrates the pervasive way of speaking -- mostly by women in the U.S. -- that drives me insane.
It's that flip of a question-mark in the voice at the end of even the most supposedly declarative sentences.
Try to read this with the inflection that Simmons used (or you can check out the video):
"It's not unusual to overhear an elite college graduate sitting in a job interview, talking like this? Posing her statements as questions? So that she doesn't take up too much space and act too aggressive?"
It's about the conflicting messages that society gives girls and women. "Yes, you be powerful, but you still be nice while doing it," Simmons says we're told.
Another example of this way of speaking came later that day. During breaks in the simulcast, local TEDxHouston volunteers kept the ball rolling by playing some of the best from last summer's event.
Chris Seay, founder/pastor of Ecclesia Houston and author of several books with intriguing titles (like The Gospel According to Tony Soprano), talked about how we tend to focus on propositions and facts at the expense of understanding the story. He offers up that speaking with conviction is, well, uncool anymore.
Seay drove the point home by reciting (and sometimes paraphrasing) Taylor Mali's poem, "Totally like whatever, you know?" It was my first time hearing it -- it's a great read, but hearing it read aloud is where you'll find your head nodding along in affirmation.
Then today, a blogpost came my way via tweet by Eric Tung, founder of Quantum Mass Media. The blogpost, "How False Humility Hurts Your Business" by Amber Naslund, is direct and clear. And it reminded me of the other day, when my Almost Teen son offered an apologetic disclaiming preamble before uttering that he's the best at something. In fact, my mind was so preoccupied with scurrying to replay my son's disclaimer that I missed what it is he's best at -- fortunately, someone else was there to hear. I dutifully assured him anyway that there was no need to apologize for being the best -- and saying so.
I should really dedicate this blogpost to my writer friends who continue to remind me that I should ask for what I'm worth more often, and not just whatever the market will bear. It's a tough balance. But at least I have a grip, most of the time, on how I sound when I'm asking.
Right?
