Part of being a writer is having a “voice” that readers can associate with you. In the past, like when my blog was popular, I think I have a very distinct voice that was true to me. The way I wrote my posts was exactly the same way I would tell you a story in person (but with slightly more facial expressions and bad impersonations of people). Between trying to write with a “scholarly tone” for my master’s program, trying to speak with an education level above an 11th grader at work and trying to be me, I have lost my voice. My posts aren’t as free-flowing and conversational as they used to be, which makes them sucky, because you can’t really be funny if you aren’t conversational (well, I can’t be funny if I’m not conversational). Maybe it’s that I’m not as comfortable with my writing/speaking as I used to be, so that’s why I’m not as funny.

Either way, when I go to write a post, in my head I have this funny concept I want to express, but between the jumble of corporate-speak and vocab from my epidemiology book, I just can’t seem to get my point across in the humorous way I envision.  I’ve never been a fan of “trying” to sound smart. I prefer the writers/speakers who tell it like it is without using big words to prove to me how intelligent they are.

I’m not saying you can’t be funny if you’re smart — I think the reality is the exact opposite of that. I know that I am a halfway intelligent person, but I think I need to be an overly intelligent person at my job and in school. So I get into this mode of faking my level of intelligence by saying things that aren’t me or nodding my head in agreement to something I know I’m supposed to agree with but I don’t comprehend in the slightest. Then that fake mode follows me home and when I’m trying to post a funny anecdote about elevator etiquette, my creative, slightly immature voice has reverted to a hidden corner in my brain and is too afraid to come out for fear of judgment.

If only someone would just pay me to use my “me” voice.