Blogging Club: How to Keep Your Writing Voice

Confession: I sometimes worry that I’ll lose my voice. Not literally, of course. My writing voice, I mean. It’s not something I’ve consciously crafted, but looking back now, I have developed a pretty distinct writing voice; it’s a voice I’ve actually come to love. It’s sort of become my own personal “brand,” if you will — my personalized stamp that I put on each piece of writing.

And in a sea of blogs and writers, your own voice can be hard to come by. A scarce commodity. A rare glimpse into who you are as a person. Fittingly, writer Drew Hoolhorst describes his own frustration in his article Why You Should Write, which also finds him reminiscing about his grandfather’s influence on his chosen career…

He made me want to write. And he taught me the only reason I needed to write was because, “because.”

Then, one day, I began to write for a living and experienced a conflicting moment when I had trouble finding my “because.”

It’s always so petty, that moment.

“I don’t have any good ideas.”

“I don’t have anything interesting to say.”

“I will misspell a word and people will judge me for not being the best at never making a mistake in my writing, all of the time, always.”

“I will incorrectly use effect/affect as I may have done above. Shit, did I incorrectly use effect/affect?”

“People will just rip whatever I say apart and hurt my feelings.”

This. Is. It. I found myself actually nodding my head in agreement as I read Hoolhorst’s wise words. It’s so easy to get caught up in the noise of writing, the mechanics of it all, that you almost run the risk of losing sight of the whole picture. You might even forget why exactly you’re doing it in the first place. Hoolhorst has an answer for that, too…

It’s easy to overthink it. To think that any piece of writing that you do has to have a point, some giant bigger meaning…Look, writing is supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be “because.” It’s important not to lose track of how much great shit happens when you hit keys or write words on paper that are out-of-control feelings you’re dying to share with someone…Because, that’s the “because.” Write just to write. It’s healthy and there is always an amazing off chance that it affects someone more than you had any idea it ever could…

What wonderful advice! I’m thinking of printing Hoolhorst’s words and taping them next to my computer! Don’t you agree, friends? How would you describe your ‘because’? Why do you write? What drives you, especially if you’re a blogger? What advice would you add? I’d love to hear in the comments! xoxo

P.S. On honest writing… :)

[Photos via We Heart It]

Americans With Disabilities Act: “Giving Myself the Label of ‘Disabled’ Has Been Very Empowering”

Although we’ve been celebrating the Americans With Disabilities Act this week and the strides made by the disability community, I was curious to find out how things were shaping up around the world. I was lucky enough to chat with two incredible women who shared what life is like for them. First up: Meet Carly Findlay. As an award-winning writer, speaker and appearance activist living in Melbourne, Australia, she challenges people’s thinking about what it’s like to have a visibly different appearance. You can read her blog and follow her on Twitter and Facebook. Here, she shares what she’s learned…

Labels. They’re a blessing and a curse to live with. Fat. Thin. Beautiful. Ugly. Smart. Stupid. Rich. Poor. Athletic. Lazy. Normal. Different. Disabled. Able-bodied.

Labels are temporary but can result in our identities and esteem being damaged. We can peel off the labels others stick on us. Or we can embrace them, letting them become part of our identity.

I was never labeled as having a disability or chronic illness by anyone other than myself. I was called lots of other names relating to my appearance, but never anything relating to disability.

Disability seemed so much more than a rare severe skin condition called Ichthyosis. I don’t have an intellectual impairment and my mobility isn’t affected unless I am very sore. And I don’t take enough tablets to have a chronic illness. I went through life thinking that my condition wasn’t bad for me because I coped with it daily. It was only my skin, right? That’s just a visual impairment, right? Wrong. My parents, nurses and doctors knew how severe it was, and told me that if a skin infection reached my blood stream, it could be fatal.

It wasn’t until my mid-’20s that I identified with having a disability and a chronic illness. I thought ‘disability’ and ‘chronic illness’ had really negative connotations — and why wouldn’t I when society makes ableist slurs, employment of people with disabilities is low and physical and attitudinal barriers are rife? I also never saw many positive, ordinary stories of disability in the media; disability is often portrayed as tragedy or heroic and nothing in between. There is a limited view of disability that’s portrayed in the media, both limited conditions and limited expectations. And I thought that I had to be assessed by a doctor or the government to give me a label in addition to my skin condition. A label of disability or chronic illness? I didn’t realise how positive it could be to embrace these labels.

I started mentoring at a hospital program for young people with chronic illnesses when I was 26. I wanted to provide guidance and support to them, based on my experiences. But they taught me so much more than I was prepared for. I learned about a wide range of chronic illnesses and I learned about myself. We had so much in common despite our different conditions. I realized that like them, I missed a lot of school (and work) to attend medical appointments and stay in the hospital. My condition also made it hard for me to make friends. I have more than three specialists. My condition has a really long, unpronounceable name. And it is more severe than a temporary illness like a cold or a stomach bug.

And then, a couple of years later, I immersed myself in the Melbourne disability community through writing and community TV. I saw that people with varying disabilities face the same sorts of questions, physical and attitudinal barriers and discrimination. My friends in wheelchairs receive similar, intrusive questions about their disabilities, just as I do.

Most recently, I discovered there is a vibrant and supportive community of people with facial differences.

Giving myself the labels of ‘disabled’ and ‘chronically ill’ has been very empowering. I feel great sense of belonging — and that’s as big a relief as a diagnosis is. It’s given me pride. I am proud to belong to an amazing, talented, diverse, passionate community that’s committed to improving the lives of others. It’s also given me the courage to speak up and say I can’t do something because of my body’s limitations and call out discriminatory behavior. My knowledge of the social model of disability has grown, and I’ve embraced and practiced that. I’ve become aware of sensitivities around language, which has helped me communicate better. I’ve taken control of my own health, communicating my needs to doctors and educating them during appointments and through speaking at medical conferences. And I’ve met some wonderful people who are disabled and/or chronically ill, who are affected by my skin condition or who are allies of our community. My writing and speaking career has thrived.

Above all, I’ve learned that it is OK to identify with having a disability and chronic illness, because these labels are not negative. These labels are permanently fixed to my identity and I am proud and feel included. Embracing these labels helped me to love myself.

In The Pursuit of Happiness: Lauren Conrad Shuts Down Body-Shamers

Fat.

Skinny.

These are my two least favorite words in the English language. In fact, they’re my least favorite of all time, in any language.

Have you ever noticed how fat, in particular, is such a short word, but seemingly wields so much power over us? It’s just one syllable. That’s it. Just one. It takes less than one second to say, and yet we spend countless hours obsessing over it and looking for it and comparing ours to other people’s. It’s enough to drive anyone bonkers — and it does. All. The. Time. Skinny is a word that also weighs heavily on our minds. The irony, I know. For some reason, the embodiment of all things skinny has become something of a sought-after goal, as if it was some sort of status symbol. At the very least, it was something to be proud of.
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But luckily for us all, fashionista extraordinaire Lauren Conrad is taking a big stand for Girl Power by making her little corner of the Interwebs a safer and more positive place. In a blog post last week, she outlined her plans…

“When we’ve talked about getting in shape in the past, words like “skinny,” “slim,” and “thin” have often come up. Starting this month, we’ll be banning any body shaming terms from the site, and shifting the focus to words like “fit” “toned,” and “healthy.” We try do to this for the most part anyway, but now we’re making it official! The word skinny will now be reserved for skinny jeans. My editorial team and I had a long talk about it, and we want to make sure that the focus is on being fit as opposed to a number on the scale. Every body is created differently—and healthy bodies come in all shapes and sizes.”

Amen, Lauren! She’s always been one of my favorites. I love how she’s been able to transcend her Laguna Beach and Hills past and become such an inspiring business woman. She seems like the type of person who knows exactly who she is, isn’t willing to settle or pretend and ultimately makes NO APOLOGIES for any of it. Now that’s some solid business model I could get behind.

Just like I said a few days ago, there’s a certain strength in being who you are. Lauren, obviously, owns it, too, and I’m glad she’s a role model for so many young women these days. I can’t help but feel like she’s inspiring the Lauren Conrads of tomorrow, don’t you, friends? Rock on, Lauren! xoxo

Tip: Forget About Being Likable

Believe it or not, I used to care what people think. Yes, it’s true. There was a time when I placed great stock in the opinion of others and what people said. Maybe it was because I wanted to fit in and feared being that lone ‘ugly duckling,’ or maybe I subconsciously worried about my disability getting in the way of things. Whatever the reason, I just knew that I really, really, really wanted people to like me.

The questions roamed around endlessly in my head…

–Did I just say the right thing?
–Did I do that wrong?
–Am I wearing the right shirt?
–Do they think I’m stupid?
–Will they remember my mistake forever?

It all can become quite overwhelming rather quickly. And it did. Obviously, trying to be everything to everyone leaves little room for you to be yourself. But then I read Nigerian author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s wise words on the trappings of likability, and her advice was like a shot of truth to my heart…

I think that what our society teaches young girls, and I think it’s also something that’s quite difficult for even older women and self-professed feminists to shrug off, is that idea that likability is an essential part of you, of the space you occupy in the world, that you’re supposed to twist yourself into shapes to make yourself likable, that you’re supposed to hold back sometimes, pull back, don’t quite say, don’t be too pushy, because you have to be likable. 


So what I want to say to young girls is forget about likability. If you start thinking about being likable you are not going to tell your story honestly, because you are going to be so concerned with not offending, and that’s going to ruin your story, so forget about likability. And also the world is such a wonderful, diverse, and multifaceted place that there’s somebody who’s going to like you; you don’t need to twist yourself into shapes.

That’s the key, I think. If life is about telling your story and telling it honestly, there’s no time for worrying about what people think. The minute you start taking time to consider how people are going to perceive you? Well, it’s almost as if you’re censoring yourself; that’s not fair to you or anyone else. Ever.

And, really, think about it: People already have so much going on in their lives, and like my sister always says, “Do you think they’re actually going to remember this in the grand scheme of things?” Now, that’s not to say that they don’t care about you. It just means that people probably aren’t nearly as attuned to your life and behavior as you think they are. Do you remember what your co-worker said in that meeting yesterday? What was your sister wearing last weekend? What was the punchline of that corny joke your doctor told you during your last visit?

Translation: Everyone’s got their own stuff that they’re dealing with.

And here’s another thing about getting people to like you — “getting” is the keyword. If you have to get someone to like you, if it takes some sort of extraordinary measure, doesn’t the whole thing just reek of fakeness? It’s like that old adage we learned as children: If you have to bribe someone to be your friend, then maybe they’re not worth having as a friend. Because, really, when it comes down to it, that’s not what true friendship is all about. It’s about those gives and takes that truly define a friendship. In the end, that’s what makes you likable, and, really, the only think that matters.

Do you put a high price on what people think of you, friends? Has it changed over the years? How have you balanced your desire to be likable with your need to just be yourself? What advice do you have for those struggling with the issue these days? Let’s chat, shall we? xoxo

[Photos via We Heart It]

Reflections on Caitlyn Jenner

By now, you’ve no doubt been introduced to Caitlyn Jenner. You’ve heard her begin to tell her story. You’ve seen her grace the cover of July’s Vanity Fair. You’ve probably even read my Open Letter from a couple months back.

And, in the process of all this, you’ve seen her spark a very important conversation about identity, finally finding your voice and not shying away from using that voice.

In Jenner’s 22-page Vanity Fair profile, she spoke candidly for the first time as Caitlyn, saying how liberating the photo shoot was: “This shoot was about my life and who I am as a person. It’s not about the fanfare. It’s not about people cheering in the stadium, it’s not about going down the street and everybody giving you ‘that a boy, Bruce,’ pat on the back, O.K. This is about your life.”

She also spoke of a renewed desire to live a regret-free life: “If I was lying on my deathbed and I had kept this secret and never ever did anything about it, I would be lying there saying, ‘You just blew your entire life. You never dealt with yourself,’ and I don’t want that to happen.”

We’ve seen the Internet explode with reactions since Vanity Fair released its cover, and #CallMeCaitlyn became a trending topic on Twitter almost instantaneously. But throughout all these conversations, one in particular has stood out high above the rest for me. Laverne Cox, star of Orange Is The New Black and a transgender advocate herself who appeared on the cover of TIME magazine last year, posted these brilliant words on her Tumblr…

I am so moved by all the love and support Caitlyn is receiving. It feels like a new day, indeed, when a trans person can present her authentic self to the world for the first time and be celebrated for it so universally.


Yes, Caitlyn looks amazing and is beautiful but what I think is most beautiful about her is her heart and soul, the ways she has allowed the world into her vulnerabilities. The love and devotion she has for her family and that they have for her. Her courage to move past denial into her truth so publicly. These things are beyond beautiful to me. We must lift up the stories of those most at risk, statistically trans people of color who are poor and working class. I have hoped over the past few years that the incredible love I have received from the public can translate to the lives of all trans folks. Trans folks of all races, gender expressions, ability, sexual orientations, classes, immigration status, employment status, transition status, genital status etc.. I hope, as I know Caitlyn does, that the love she is receiving can translate into changing hearts and minds about who all trans people are as well as shifting public policies to fully support the lives and well being of all of us.

Yes! This. Exactly.

I happened to see a post floating around Facebook earlier this week. It featured a picture of a soldier with a caption describing him as the “true hero.” My stomach sunk right to the floor and my blood seethed with rage the second I spotted it. It’s, quite frankly, a disgusting message in every sense of the word. Not only does it show complete ignorance and disrespect, it undermines everything that people like Caitlyn and Laverne have advocated for over the years. For someone like Caitlyn, a former Olympic champ who has lived under the microscope of the paparazzi and tabloids for so long, she could have easily taken the path of least resistance. She could have lived the rest of her life — her public life, at least — as a man. After all, why rock the boat and open yourself up to criticism, right?

But that’s not WHO Caitlyn is, and honestly, that’s the most important part. She has to be who she is, and it’s all rather selfish and arrogant to expect her to hide her true self or her heart. How would you feel if someone tried to stifle your true identity and said, “No, I’m sorry, that’s not who you are. You identity doesn’t matter.”

Caitlyn has shown an incredible amount of grace and strength, especially in the last few months. That, if you ask me, is something to be celebrated. That, if you ask me, is the truest definition of bravery and courage; it’s everything that being a “true hero” is all about.

As I posted on Twitter a couple days ago: “It’s SO nice to meet you, Caitlyn Jenner!! Thank you for being such an inspiration. Being yourself never looked so good!! #CallMeCaitlyn.” We will call her Caitlyn, indeed. Forever. xoxo

[Photos by Annie Leibovitz for Vanity Fair]