There is a Method to My Madness

As my own projects limp along, meeting procrastination and losing more often than not, I find myself drawn more and more to ghostwriting, especially for people who are passionately excited about what they do—and what they do is everything but writing.

Recently, someone commented that the passion with which I talk about learning and mimicking the voice of another is a lot like method acting. After some thought, I had to agree, though my talent for acting was never strong. Recreating someone else’s voice, however, seems to come more naturally, despite my own unique and rather strong personal voice.

Thinking about it, the technique is similar. A method actor gets into the head and heart of the character she’s portraying. As a ghostwriter, I get into the head and heart of the person I’m writing for. Either way, it requires a certain level of empathy and connection with the person you represent. You have to study the way they express themselves; the words they use, what brings their passion to the forefront, even their mannerisms. I know it sounds weird to talk about mannerisms in the context of written work, but to understand the person as a whole, you have to get a feel for the way they speak. Mannerisms are as much a part of our speech as the words we choose or inflections in our voice.

Making Up for the Gaps in Our Communication Process

Today, as so much of our communication with the world at large is delivered electronically via phone, text, social media and the like, it’s becoming harder and harder to complete the circle. What I mean by that is we originally communicated face-to-face which allowed us to not only hear the words, but see facial expressions, to recognize, consciously or not unspoken signals in the way a person held their body as they spoke, and the subtle and overt inflections in their voice as they lingered over some words and sped past others.

As a writer, and especially who is writing through the voice of others, it becomes increasingly important to instill the written word with qualities originally communicated visually and energetically. Many who are promoting courses for speakers talk about the importance of telling a good story. What they say is just as important with the written word. Pulling the reader in and allowing them to feel the passion in the words is a skill set in and of itself. Yet some are taking it to extremes and, in my opinion, overdoing it by inserting shock value in place of true emotion.

Storytelling: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Take for example a speakers’ conference I attended some months back. Far too many of the speakers had been victims of some kind of neglect or abuse as a child. Some of the speakers pulled you into their story quite skillfully, allowing the tension to build slowly, and making you feel like you were seeing what they saw through a child’s eyes. Others pretty much smacked you in the head with the horror and trauma they experienced as a child. The difference in these two approaches as far as the audience is concerned is enormous.

When a story of trauma is woven skillfully with a subtle hand, the listener (or reader) feels empathy for the child and the life they were forced to lead. Feelings of admiration and awe for the adult who overcame a difficult beginning in order to stand up, talk about what they’d been through, and use it to help others swell in their heart as the story unfolds.

However, those who tell their story for the shock value often leave the listener with a feeling of disgust and maybe horror, but little empathy for the adult who overcame a lousy beginning. In fact, I find I’m often not convinced the speaker has really overcome the trauma at all, but uses it to gain sympathy for themselves in place of the love and care they lacked. I’ve left more than once after hearing or reading one of these stories feeling soiled and in need of a long, hot shower as if some of the nastiness they eschewed was transferred to the audience or reader. The transfer, in my opinion was intentional, though the person making the transfer may not even have been aware of doing it. The broken child inside them still believes the myth that if you give something away, you no longer have it.

A Time and A Place for Shock Value

Don’t get me wrong. We all like a little shock value now and then. My daughters used to get a kick out of telling people they were twins (which they are) though they look nothing alike. My oldest still gets a kick out of seeing peoples’ faces when they find out I’m 15-20 years older than they thought I was. But those are little things, not meant to create an emotional connection. The shock value of learning someone was physically or sexually abused as a child is a different matter entirely, and requires a more delicate spinning of the tale to gain empathy instead of sympathy or horror.

Few of us reach adulthood without experiencing some kind of trauma, be it the loss of a close family member or beloved pet, a car accident, or maybe something less dramatic, but no less emotional taxing in our own minds. Loss and tragedy are as much a part of human existence as joy and dream fulfillment. They’re two sides of a coin which, without each other will never find a point of balance.

It isn’t so much the traumas we experience, nor the magnitude of those traumas on some imaginary scale. It’s the way we come through them and use them to improve the human condition, even if only in a small way in our local environment. I believe we all do what we’re supposed to do with those traumas. Some are meant to use them to help make massive changes while others are meant to learn a lesson specific to themselves. Neither is better or worse than the other.

Emerging From Trauma With Renewed Purpose

I know I surprise people with how easily and readily I can now talk about my parents’ suicides. They don’t see the years when I couldn’t, nor what it took to get me where I am today. By the same token, I am surprised when a woman can speak calmly and openly about being sexually abused as a child or raped as an adult. Again, I don’t know what it took to get her there, nor what she might do after she’s discussed the incident calmly. I don’t know what triggers exist in her life which will, like the ones in mine, send her into an emotional tailspin for a little while until she engages the tools she collected along the way which allow her to turn trauma into triumph. Yet those are the things I look for when writing with their voice.

In order to write with their words in their own voice, we as writers have to understand where they came from and the power behind their drive to not only survive but thrive. We need to feel what they feel about helping others who have experienced traumatic events which cut them off at the knees, and to understand the courage and determination it required for them to crawl out of their pit of despair and use the experience for good.

Kudos to Those Who Inspire Me

I have to appreciate Shannon Seek of Seek Solutions for showing me how much this process lights me up, and helping me understand why. Even more, she reminded me how grateful I am to have a gift and a purpose which, like the #HeartfeltMovement with which I’ve recently aligned allows me to be a ripple in the pond of humanity which has the potential to improve the human condition. Sometimes it takes a while to find your tribe, but when you do, your heart knows.

 

About the Author

Sheri Conaway is a writer, blogger, Virtual Assistant and advocate for cats. Sheri believes in the Laws of Attraction, but only if you are a participant rather than just an observer. She is available for ghostwriting to help your business grow and thrive. Her specialties are finding and expressing your authentic self. If you’d like to have her write for you, please visit her Hire Me page for more information. You can also find her on Facebook Sheri Levenstein-Conaway Author.

Be sure to watch this space for news of the upcoming release of “Forgotten Victims: Healing and Forgiving After Suicide”.