Finding your voice

Students in a class at the university where I've taught journalism the past 27 years will be blogging for the second half of the spring semester. A few of them have blogged before, but most of them are new to it. A few of them seem a little intimidated by the thought of their words being out there for the world to see. It does take a leap of faith -- faith in yourself -- to hit the "Publish" button.

I know some professional writers fear that this democratization of writing/publishing will dilute the impact of their work -- and cut into their profits. (Garrison Keillor once painted this bleak picture of the future of publishing: “18 million authors in America, each with an average of 14 readers, eight of whom are blood relatives. Average annual earnings: $1.75.”)

So why require students to create and maintain a blog? Because I want them to discover their voice, that amorphous collection of choices that define who they are as writers. Too often, their other class assignments take on a certain sameness. I blame education -- the kind that has taught them to turn a simple phrase into a 40-word sentence so they can stretch their 12 pages of knowledge into that 20-page paper that's due tomorrow (and which they probably won't start writing until late this evening).

I can tell them to try a more conversational approach to their writing, but blogging has proven much more effective at getting them to loosen up, to take risks in their writing. When I read their blogs, I'm amazed at how much more they sound like the young, energetic, interesting people they are.

A few weeks into the blog project, I challenge them to use their blogger's voice in their stories. Some of them get it. Some don't. But a seed has been planted.

A long time ago, when I was new to reporting, I worked hard at sounding like a journalist. Which is to say, I was a boring writer. Luckily for me, I had a colleague who had long since learned to trust his own writer's voice. Reading his work led me to realize that perhaps I could "get away with" being myself in my writing, too.

Once I tried it, there was no going back.