When my Dad used to calls relatives, he’d ask, “Is this the party to whom I am speaking?” He was the grandson of a Vaudeville set builder, so slapstick and nonsense were in his DNA. I now say it to my siblings when I call them. We laugh, because the answer is ridiculous. Who else would it be? But for a writer, the question is worth asking.
Is this the audience to whom I’m writing? Who are we speaking to when we write? In everyday conversation our tone, cadence and vocabulary change depending on the person: work colleague, parent, neighbor, child, close friend. The same can be true of our written voice. But what if we write first, without focusing on the audience? What if we write as if the message, the story, and the meaning come first? What if the authenticity of what we need to say is the primary purpose of putting pen to paper? I suppose this line of logic falls into the category of form follows function. Putting form first can straight-jacket the function. What we want to say has to take precedence. For example: Shakespeare’s Sonnet 130. My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun. The argument and language do not match the formality and loftiness of the sonnet form. So to whom was Shakespeare speaking? One could argue that this is an intimate love letter to his love, but comparing her hair to wires works against the trope of goddess imagery. Perhaps this is Shakespeare conversing with himself.
It’s true that we adjust our tone, pacing, vocabulary, even volume depending on the person or people we are addressing. This adjustment happens in writing also, particularly when we focus on one person or subject. A business email contains a different voice than a text to a friend. But to whom are we writing when we write a poem, flash fiction, a novel? Do we conjure up a reader we have never met, choose a relative or trusted friend? And do we shift our stance depending on the genre, having a voice for science fiction and another for children’s literature? The answer is: it depends. I think of William Steig who wrote and illustrated children’s books and used words like dawdle, hoisted, wallowed, and extractor. I think of Ursula Le Guin who created mystical worlds in a science fiction genre. Neither curtailed their authentic voice or vision to say what they wanted to say. They themselves were the party to whom they were speaking with surprise and wonder. What they offered was genuine and individual.
The party to whom we are speaking is us. We are our first audience. When we go deep, go spelunking in our own caves and buried rivers, we find the themes, tones, characters, and metaphors that tell our stories whether in prose or poetry. Shakespeare needed to write his honest words of love to Anne. Whether he intended wry humor, a serious tilt toward sarcasm, or an earnest declaration, only Shakespeare knew. Readers can interpret, but we writers alone know the verity of our words because we are to whom we are writing. The answer to the Vaudeville question is always Yes!
Upcoming Events
Write With Me at Mass MoCa, the Western Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art! August 6 & 7, 2025. This unique museum is housed in late 1800s industrial building and now contain 19 galleries. The museum contains long-standing and temporary exhibits that intrigue, excite, and provoke our assumptions and imaginations. We will have two days of wandering the wonders of this museum. On display during this retreat: The Archive of Lost Memories by Randi Malkin Steinberger; Power Full Because We’re Different by Jeffrey Gibson; and C.A.V.U by James Turrell among many others. I will offer you ways to converse with the exhibits that most speak to you. We will spend several hours each day individually exploring the installations then gather in a private room to write what has been stirred within us, read to one another, and listen with respect to each other and to our own written art. Cost: $850. Contact: maureen@maureenbjones.com
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