3 Tips to Develop a More I-Based Writing Style
Don’t be afraid to unlock your internal “I”. In fact, your readers will welcome it
Can there be a more powerful artistic statement than Rachelle Ferrell’s album Individuality (Can I Be Me?)? The American singer had already shown her vocal prowess on her debut, First Instrument (especially her own take on famous melodies such as You Don’t Know What Love Is and My Funny Valentine). Yet, brilliant as that record was, it felt lacking, as if Rachelle’s creative output were not being totally showcased. Enter Individuality, Ferrell’s opportunity to put her “I” centre stage.
Similarly, in writing (more specifically the non-fiction variety), “I” is an unashamed attempt to establish character and voice. By character I mean our personality, and by voice our inner thoughts.
The “I”, thus, becomes a smoke signal for our reader and one they very much welcome. It’s the permission we grant them to join us.
Some non-fiction writers declare who they are straight away, in just a few pages. Others take longer. Neither position is better than the other, they’re just different. I tend to think I belong to the latter. As a blogger, I realised early on that if I wanted to achieve online longevity, the various layers of my personality would have to be revealed gradually.
Our “I” is made up of a multi-character persona. At work we act in a certain way, at the family Christmas party we’re someone else and when on holiday abroad with our partner we behave differently. That there is a core in these three people threading us together should be under no doubt. But at the same time, we are reacting to different scenarios and situations and interacting with people who bring their own personas to our impromptu play.
When we put fingers to keyboard, we need to understand that we will never be able to project our whole self onto the blank page. This is not due to lack of skills, but because picking ourselves apart might reveal flaws we are not ready to confront, let alone share with our readers.
Yet, that blank page is still beckoning us over. Remember what I wrote some time ago about “always be writing”? Well, imperfections notwithstanding, we have to fill up that unsaved Word document somehow. My first piece of advice would be to walk away (literally, if you can. As in, get up and move away from your device). Now, picture yourself as the writer left behind. You are a few yards away from your desk but at it there is still the you-as-the-writer. The thought process that gets underway now should ideally be more objective, less judgment-heavy and honest. You are seeing you-as-the-writer as others see you as a person. You are acquiring that necessary distance (so fashionable these days, especially when coupled with the words social and physical) that we all require in order to carry out an inventory of who we are.
Now that you’ve got the separation, here’s my second piece of advice. What makes you who you are? I’m not just referring to education, upbringing and friendships. I’m specifically talking about your quirks. This is one of our personality markers that sets us apart from our peers. Your penchant for pistachio ice-cream, your hatred of summer, your preference for chihuahuas; these are the little idiosyncrasies your readers will welcome. Maybe the work space is the perfect setting for acting average. The blank page is not.
Quirks also build bridges. You will find that some readers will share some of your (anti) social attitudes. They will be glad to find a kindred soul. On a medium like Medium (hmmm…) or a blog, this will trigger immediate feedback, a godsend for writers who think no one will be interested in what they have to offer.
Digging deep into your own personality in order to unearth these mannerisms is also a way of keeping the reader engaged. It is not just negative reviews that can kill off a writer’s career (although they could be a contributing factor) but indifference to your oeuvre. If a reader gets bored with your writing easily, it’s early curtains for you.
Jack Nicholson’s eyebrows should have been given their own Oscar long time ago. There they are in The Shining, expressing undiscovered darkness. There they are again in The Postman Always Rings Twice, displaying lust. And there they are again in A Few Good Men, showing defiance and arrogance. Likewise, writers should be as expressive as possible. Let editors attempt to smooth our edges. We can always say NO. Or yes, with some compromise.
Art is not, should not be a place for conformists. As writers we must take advantage of our quirks and place them centre stage, the same way Jack Nicholson uses his eyebrows to maximise effect (“Here’s Johnny!” or “You can’t handle the truth!”). Let the spotlight hit those rugged features, those unpolished corners.
When I was younger I did a lot of theatre. First as part of an improv troupe and later in two am-dram companies. A key lesson I learnt early on was the need for conflict. Conflict and the resolution of it was what moved the plot forward. That’s my third piece of advice. Where’s there’s conflict, there’s interest. This is not about manufacturing conflict for the sake of it, but mining your own background to offer your reader a sample of where you come from and the issues you dealt with.
Conflict can also be an opportunity to combine heart and mind. To show your reader the feelings that guide you and the experience you’ve gained from your mistakes and achievements. It is where the individual is formed. Perhaps that was the reason why Rachelle Ferrell called her album Individuality (Can I Be Me?), because it gave her the excuse to explore her own ”I”, including her conflicts.
We will carry on with the same subject of the “I” in non-fiction writing. Next up: tone.