A thought, on finding one's voice, on using one's current voice, and on growing that voice.

(1)

It took me a long time to figure out that I can't write in the voice of my future self.

Or, in other words, we don't reach our future selves by trying to mimic them until we become them. That, by definition, is impossible.

(2)

We can only write (or perform, or be, or whatever) in our current voice --- and that in itself is a tremendous blessing, because *we can know* our current voice!

We live with it! We can become intimately familiar with how it runs, its strengths, its weaknesses, et al.

(3)

Think about if you told a child to act like their teenage self (god forbid,) or if you asked me to act like my 60-year-old self.

We'd probably be able to do some sort of mocking version, but it wouldn't be true to the intricacies of what that person will be.

(4)

Writing in one's current voice means writing from a place of understanding and self-awareness, which means (or can mean) writing from a place of confidence.

Give yourself that option. Give yourself that kind of solid footing.

(5)

Writing in your present voice also sometimes means doing an idea lots of times -- and that's okay!

Rarely do people have a new idea that they want to utilize and then realize that idea perfectly the first time.

(6)

Manet painted a lot of fuckin' boats. Kahlo had recurring floral and vaginal imagery. You can't have a Blue Period if you keep thinking about switching palettes.

Use an idea until you're satisfied with it, and then that idea will become a technique, one of your tools.

(7)

Then, how do we grow? How *do* we get to our future voice?

Incrementally. We grow by finding projects and ideas and ensembles and mentors and friends who recognize the boundaries of our current voice and slowly, healthily help them expand.

(8)

And the other voices are very important, because we can sometimes stretch ourselves, but not in the same way.

We need other sets of eyes on the outside, ones who care about our trajectory *and* our health, to say, "Listen: you can make that jump."

(9)

There is, frustratingly, no way to rush this. You can't suddenly put up a high hurdle on the track and say, "this is how high I want to jump! I'm gonna do it until I do it!"

There have to be steps, and steps take time (and time is frustrating.)

(10)

A lot (A LOT) of harm can be done by rushing the steps.

A teacher superimposing their voice over your current voice. A cruel interaction making you distrust your current voice. Attempting to fit your voice to what other artists or judgiing panels admire.

(11)

All of this starts with knowing where you are right now --- what you *want* to write, what you *love* to write, and beyond that, what you hope to write in the future.

If you can pull away the extrinsic and truly sink into the intrinsic, you will see a path ahead of you.

(12)

Nothing will ever make the path less scary, but knowing your current self gives you at least that one point of confidence:

I am not lost. I am here. I know who I am, I know what I do, and I how to do it.

(x)

(been thinkin' about all of this for a bit, but very much codifed by a very good phone call with @mezzoihnen )