Pretty Lynne Writes

I grew up thinking my voice was annoying.

If you’re Gen X, like me, you probably learned at least one of the following lessons:

• don’t ask for things that you can do yourself (that is most things)
• don’t need anything 
• don’t bother people
• don’t talk about your feelings 
• be quiet

No? Just me? Maybe so. Your experience may vary. (Honestly, I hope it does.)

There was always something about my voice to which my father objected. It was too loud, too high, too tinny sounding, too whiny, too much. If I got excited about something, like kids do, and spoke in an enthusiastic tone, I was told to calm down, that my voice was too much. If I was quiet, I was told to speak up, for god’s sake, because my voice was too small to be heard. 

If, heaven forbid, I got a cold and my voice got a little gravelly, I was told to be quiet and not speak at all because “it was awful to listen to.” I once spent an entire Christmas Day in my room because I was losing my voice and no one wanted to hear me.  

As an adult, I’ve watched my parents wince when I spoke in a crowd of family chatter, and make eyes at each other about the sound of my voice. I’ve never been able to figure out if it’s the volume, the pitch, or the timbre of my voice that bothers them most. It appears to be all three at times. 

Imagine my surprise when I decided to take a risk and read my first story, and people complimented my voice. My first comment was simple: “you have a nice voice,” a listener said. “I enjoyed listening to you,” another commented. 

In that narration, I had tried to compensate for the gravel that sometimes comes into my voice, to modulate my pitch so that my voice was more conventionally pleasant. When I decided to narrate more of my stories, I realized that was not sustainable and just went for whatever felt right for the story. It’s called voice acting, after all. 

When I checked with a beta listener about the gravelly nature of my voice, he told me not to worry about it, that some people found it attractive. And that has been the case. I’ve had comments on how sexy the gravel in my voice is. It has also been called soothing, calming, and recently described simply with “JFC!🔥”

Sure, my voice may not be for everyone. And I sound different depending on the context. In my job, I don’t think anyone would guess that I can put a little “come hither” into my voice when I want to. When I’m out with friends, people aren’t falling at my feet when they hear me speak. 

But, for almost a year now I’ve been recording myself reading my own work – and branching out into narrating others’ work – and the effect has been so healing for me. I’m literally taking back my voice as a part of me that is vital, important, and beautiful. If you’ve ever listened to me, thank you for being part of that. 

It’s Pretty Lynne, but it’s also [real name]. 

It’s me. And I like it. That is everything.