Writer’s Voice: ‘Intolerance and Love in Jamaica’

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Writer’s Voice: ‘Intolerance and Love in Jamaica’

What makes your point of view unique? For instance, how does your identity — your gender, race, ethnicity, religion, age, sexuality, where you live, what you’re interested in or anything else important about who you are — affect the way you see the world? How do any of these influence your “take” on the topic you’ve chosen?

Keep in mind that while advice like that given to Lives writers — “Go to the outer limit of your comfort zone in revealing something about yourself” — might sound scary, it is our experience, after a decade of running contests for teenagers, that as long as students keep in mind that they are writing for a family newspaper, taking risks and being honest on the page only improves their work.

For some examples, take a look at the winning pieces from the 2018 Show Us Your Generation contest. These students were all trying to express the same thing — what it’s like to be a teenager today — yet each comes at the challenge differently, revealing something interesting and real about themselves in the process.

To practice, try this: Write a first draft as if you are telling a story to an ideal reader with whom you can be completely yourself, whether that person is a close friend, a respected mentor, or even someone imaginary you invent just for this purpose. Keep in mind that you don’t have to actually show this rough writing to anyone, and push yourself to tell the truth about what you experience, think, feel, notice and wonder.

Another approach? Try telling your story out loud and recording it to capture your own unique use of words, as well as your cadence, the way you emphasize certain words or phrases, and how you naturally structure the story as you tell it. Again, tell it as honestly as you can.

Then, remember the useful adage that “writing is rewriting” and take this raw material and edit it. What works? What doesn’t? Who will your audience be? How, if at all, does your draft — your tone, your word choice, or anything else — need to change to appeal to and make sense for that audience? How can you shape your writing into an essay that gets across a story and a message, but still retains what is unique about your voice?

Finally, have someone who knows you well read your piece. Does the final essay still sound like you? Ask them to tell you where, specifically, your real voice and personality come across best.

Below each title, an excerpt from the piece.

My So-Called (Instagram) Life,” a finalist in the 2017 Modern Love College Essay Contest, by Clara Dollar

Like an allergic reaction to becoming unloved, my Instagram account went into overdrive, all aimed at one audience member: Joe. Through hundreds of screens, I was screaming at him: “I’m here! I’m funny! I’m at that fish taco place I showed you!”

Why Can’t Men Say ‘I Love You’ to Each Other?,” a finalist in the 2019 Modern Love College Essay Contest, by Ricardo F. Jaramillo

I’m having L-word troubles, but my troubles don’t involve a lover. There’s no romance or sex in this. No flowers, candles or dancing. My L-word troubles are with my boy, my best friend, Kichi. I’ve told him I love him probably five or six times now, but he never says it back.

The Terror and Humiliation of Learning to Ride a Bike at 33,” a 2013 essay from the Lives column, by Mary H.K. Choi

I crashed into a fence. I crashed into a garbage can filled with extra pedals. I crashed into a woman whose jeans had a design that caught my eye. Evidently, staring at an obstruction guarantees you’ll steer into it. I wish one of the teachers had pointed this out, because it seems important. Pro tip: Engaging your core does nothing. Bonus tip: Spin class is wrong.

My Desperate, Stupid, Emotional Hunt for the Perfect Pants,” a 2013 essay from the Lives column, by Mark Maron

I thought the whole pitch was ridiculous, but of course I was secretly obsessed with the idea of perfect pants. I am secretly obsessed with the idea of perfect anything. I am weak and searching and desperate, just once, to have a perfect thing. So I bought the pants.

Proving My Blackness,” a 2015 essay from the Lives column, by Mat Johnson

I grew up a black boy who looked like a white one. My parents divorced when I was 4, and I was raised mostly by my black mom, in a black neighborhood of Philadelphia, during the Black Power movement. I put my dashiki on one arm at a time like every other black boy, but I was haunted by the moments I’d be out with my mother and other black people would look at me as if I were a cuckoo egg accidentally dropped in their nest.

  • Imagine this same topic or story as if it were written in an entirely different voice, or from a different point of view. What could it sound like? How do voice and point of view affect a story or essay?