… Literally. I was unable to talk above a whisper yesterday. Even now, my voice is all scratchy and it hurts to talk.
Being without a voice gave me pause and made me think about what it would be like to lose my writing voice: Not much fun.
Some writers struggle to find their voices. Not me. I’ve always known where mine was. For as long as I can remember, people have told me I write like I talk. They can hear my “voice” in the words on the paper. In fact, I once got an e-mail from a guy who wanted to meet me because liked my column in the newspaper. (No romance developed, but we became friends.)
Not much has been happening on the writing front. I’m still working on that query — I think the tables are about to turn so I can start kicking its butt. (About time. I’m tired of feeling battered and bruised.) I’m also about to print out “Blind Date Bride” so I can read through it and start editing.
Our NARWA meeting is a little less than a week away, on Jan. 16. I’m excited for that. It always gives me a writing nudge.