I think I just don't get what it is and what it means

It means that no one else sounds like you. Your writing brings you up to the reader, every time. It's a way of using a phrase, placing a comma that makes it a living breath instead of a grammatical afterthought. It's how you paragraph; after reading a few pieces, the reader knows where you're likely to break one, because it's standard Allyson.

There's no groping. There's no stumbling. And whenever someone who's read your stuff picks up more of your stuff, they're going to say, cool! This is Allyson's! without ever looking to see who wrote it.

It speaks for you.

Short form: dude, it's a Very Good Thing. Embrace it. Hell, my editor cited me as an example of voice in one oher essays and I preened for fucking fifteen years. Still am, in fact.

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Ah! Thanks, deb. I understand.

preens

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preens in corner with Allyson

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And whenever someone who's read your stuff picks up more of your stuff, they're going to say, cool! This is Allyson's! without ever looking to see who wrote it.

Yep, what she said.

If it helps, some of the writers I read who have very distinct voices: Neil Gaiman, Caitlin R. Kiernan, Ray Bradbury, and Terry Pratchett.

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Jilli, I'm adding Mary Stewart, both the individual novels and the Merlin novels. Incredibly distinctive voice.

I'd add Simenon, but he occasionally gets screwed over when he gets translated.

Oh, and Shirley Jackson, my idol, my goddess. Talk about voice...

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I think I just don't get what it is and what it means.

It's like how you know (with some musicians) which musician/band is performing a song, the first time you heard it. And I don't mean the singer's physical voice. But you know that's E Street, that's U2, that's the Stones, that's Mozart.

There's something to how they put it all together that makes you able to identify them. They leave some sort of signature on it. And I suppose in a more simple way, it is like the sounds singer's physical voice, or how you know your mom on the phone right away. I very much know, "That's Allyson," when I read your essays. Now, I know you. But if your brand spanking new agent says you have voice, that's really something.

Preen some more.

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Whenever anyone says anything stands out about me, I always go through this thing...thinking "Distinctive, or Special?"Because we all know one is good and one is for a talking dog act.I know I bitch a lot about the lack of credit I get, and that's totally still true, but I also get praise that's...disproportionate sometimes because people believe that my existence should crush me into a fine paste or something so therefore every graf I write is Amazing. Would that it were so. For the record, I do understand that deb never does that, (Thanks, Deb) but it's why I always look sideways at compliments.

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I also get praise that's...disproportionate sometimes because people believe that my existence should crush me into a fine paste or something so therefore every graf I write is Amazing.

erika, do you think this holds as true online, as in real life? I'm trying to think about how I think about my online people, when I read their writing (pieces/stories/essays as opposed to nattery stuff). I know a lot more about you, or Deb, or Susan, than I would about any random person whose stuff I'd read. I wonder how much my personal feelings come into play, when I do read it. Because I don't know any of you in person, a lot of my opinions of you all are based on how you write (both your writing stuff, and your nattery stuff--which is where I get more unfiltered personality).

In other words, I know you are in a chair because you've talked about it. I know Deb has MS and an interesting past. I know Susan has baby and a bunch of stuff going on in her real life, but so little of any of that has much to do with how I think of you all.

That said, I do have preconceived (maybe just conceived) notions of you all, already in my mind, when I read your stuff. My head version of you is a woman who is unfairly gifted with a quick come back and black humor, or just the right quote for a situation. I think of Deb as this big ball of passion, no matter what she's writing about. I think of Susan as someone who is deliberate and inclined to analyze and research. I can't say I am unbiased when I read any of you, but I wonder if/how closely my biases would match those of your face-to-face friends and acquaintances.

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Not anymore. You guys know my shtick.(If I didn't think that was true, my tag would not look like this right now...AIFG.) But if I were still having goomare-boards and running around on b.org, I don't know that I would be such an assertive newbie. The disability being online was an interesting evolution. I didn't mention it for...a year. Because it was fun to wander around and get asked my opinion about books or Scorsese without being filtered through that God's Angel On Earth thing. Passing was totally fun. Until a TTer found out her baby daughter had the same disability as me. I had a real decision to make, but I decided it was time to let people know. I'd come to care about her and her family and anyway was starting to feel like...a closet case trying not to give anything away. That marked a real deepening in my feelings about the new technology and its potential, and I think my life as artistic material. Because you guys are interested in my crip stories...it's new to you, and not as if I posted about my Montezuma's revenge.(Because in school, I wrote about it once. I thought it was embarrassing, like "Why don't you write about your first pelvic exam?" Now, I would write that, too, though, so, whatever.) Not to say I post about EVERYTHING. Some things are too hard to talk about, even still, and the whole world doesn't share my taste for grit anyway. My dad, in particular, yelled at me as a child for making a disability joke because I "made people uncomfortable"

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The disability being online was an interesting evolution. I didn't mention it for...a year. Because it was fun to wander around and get asked my opinion about books or Scorsese without being filtered through that God's Angel On Earth thing. Passing was totally fun.

I get that. I think we all pass in one way or another, at first. I wasn't telling people at the Bronze right away that I was married, and a mother, and 30 whatever I was (33, maybe). I wasn't not telling them, but it was a new experience to just be received on the basis of what I did reveal, which was little.

In a way, the evolution continues, because every new person learns stuff about us as it's revealed in dribs and drabs. You don't come on everyday and say, "Hi, my name is erika, and I'm in a wheelchair," or I don't come in and tell all about me. I didn't know the nature of your disability or that it involved a chair, for a long time. I think I finally just asked.

Until a TTer found out her baby daughter had the same disability as me. I had a real decision to make, but I decided it was time to let people know. I'd come to care about her and her family and anyway was starting to feel like...a closet case trying not to give anything away.

Oh, I never knew that was how you came out.

That marked a real deepening in my feelings about the new technology and its potential, and I think my life as artistic material. Because you guys are interested in my crip stories...it's new to you, and not as if I posted about my Montezuma's revenge.(Because in school, I wrote about it once. I thought it was embarrassing, like "Why don't you write about your first pelvic exam?" Now, I would write that, too, though, so, whatever.)

That's very true, it is new in so many ways. I'm interested in them because/if they're good stories, though. I think someone could make a good story about a pelvic or Montezuma's revenge though, or an allergic reaction to walnuts, too.

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