How Changing Your Writing Voice Makes The World Of Difference To Your Work
Over the last couple of days, I have been reading The Great Gatsby. It was a story that I was first introduced to when watching the film in high school. I thoroughly enjoyed the story but was also intrigued by the imagination of the story and the verbiage that was used as it was highly unusual to my ear. That statement has more to do with my exposure rather than the style itself.
I found myself in a bookshop here in Vietnam and saw an English copy of the book by F Scott Fitzgerald and decided to give it a read.
I was in love with the book. It is far superior to the movie, as cliche as that sounds. I was drawn in by how the author reimagined ways to describe a scene vastly different from how I would have done so. His ability to me of being able to paint a picture in my mind whilst also allowing me to add my textures to the emotions of the work drew me in and didn’t let me go.
In reading his work, thoughts surrounding my inability to write in this way repeatedly probed me. I thus decided to write on an idea both in the voice that I would usually write a piece and also try an emulate the devices and voice that made his seminal book so captivating to me and countless others.
Below firstly is my attempt to write as though I was Fitzgerald and the latter article being my usual writing on this type of topic.
Grief: The Tender Ledger of Love
In the deep, quiet watches of the night, when the world withdraws to the shadows and leaves one to the solitude of their own contemplation, grief often rises. It is an externally silent, poignant testament to love — an exacting record of all that was cherished and held dear. To understand grief is to recognise it not merely as a companion of death, but as a broader, more profound measure of our capacity to love, whether the object of our affection remains or has passed beyond reach. Whether possessing a soul or inanimate, grief does not discriminate.
The Complexity of Grief
To limit grief to the corridors of mortality is to ignore its vast dominion over one's body and soul. It touches all corners where love once resided — be it through the physical departure of a loved one, the emotional distance between grown friends, or the fading echoes of one’s past selves amid the relentless march of time that without hesitation endures. Each form bears the indelible mark of deep-seated affection and profound connection with the weight of a warm embrace.
Grieving Those Still Among Us
Often, we find ourselves mourning the living, those who are no longer within the sphere of our daily lives but continue elsewhere, carrying a piece of our hearts with them. The friend who crosses oceans for new horizons, the child who steps boldly into the world of adulthood leaving behind an empty nest — these separations are a sorrowful reminder of love’s labours, as deeply felt as any parting through death. With the immeasurable sensation that reconnection can erase the loss already etched into our being.
Consider the poignant solitude of parents in an emptied household — their daily lives once defined by chaos and care, now echoing with the quiet of absence. The once party of four became two singular chairs in a cluttered, mounting space. This grief, though silent and unspoken, is a robust testament to years of loving fiercely. A parent's mind balancing happiness for their offspring's new opportunities with the awareness that their heart has gone out the door with them.
Or reflect on friendships that dissolve not with a cataclysm but with the slow, inexorable drift of life’s currents. Here too, grief manifests a somber acknowledgment of shared histories and the private language of friendship, now lost to time and change.
Mourning Our Past Selves
There is also a grief that blooms from within — a mourning for the selves we have left behind, for the phases of life that fade into the mists of memory, irreconcilably unretrievable. The athlete who hangs up their cleats, the dancer who no longer takes the stage — each must grieve for a part of their identity intricately tied to times of triumph and joy now bound to photo albums and commemorative sensations.
The Sorrow of Life’s Transitions
Life, in its unyielding progress, demands from us continual farewells — to youth, to vigour, to the very essence of what once defined us. Each farewell is a small, private mourning, a laying to rest of a chapter beloved and lived fully.
The Purpose of Grief
To frame grief as merely a shadow is to overlook its illuminative power. It is the proof, the undeniable evidence, that we have loved well and deeply. Grief is love’s unwilling final act, its reluctant denouement when the curtain falls on a cherished presence or time.
Embracing the Elegy of Loss
Grief, with all its somber beauty, demands not to be evaded but embraced. It is not a spectre to be feared but a friend to be understood. In its depths, we find the strength to carry forward the legacy of love, to weave the essence of what was lost into the fabric of what remains.
It teaches us the grace of remembrance, the nobility of bearing sorrow with the same fervour with which we bore love. And in this grace, we find a path forward — not moving on from, but moving with our grief.
In understanding grief as the tender ledger of our deepest affections, we allow ourselves a profound compassion — a permission to mourn not only what was lost but also to celebrate what was loved. For in the end, grief is but love’s own story, written in the ink of our tears and the lines of our smiles, a story that insists we have lived, loved, and mattered.
Grief as Love’s Receipt: Understanding the Depths of Our Connections
Grief is an emotion that traditionally associates with death. But to see it only through this lens is to overlook its broader, deeply human scope. Grief, in its most profound essence, is the receipt of love. It is tangible proof of love once given and shared, a testament to the depth of our connections. Whether through death, separation, or change, grief marks the spaces where love once flourished.
The Multifaceted Nature of Grief
Grief does not exclusively arise from death. It can manifest whenever there is a loss — be it the end of a relationship, the distance between friends, or even the loss of one’s former self due to life’s transformations. Each type bears witness to the depth of affection and connection we once enjoyed.
Grieving the Living
Sometimes, the people we grieve are very much alive. Relationships evolve; they may fade or forcibly change due to circumstances like moves, growing apart, or misunderstandings. A friend moving overseas, a child going off to college, or a painful breakup — all are losses grieved in their own right.
Consider parents experiencing “empty nest syndrome.” This form of grief is profound yet often unacknowledged. It stems from missing the daily presence and interaction with one’s children. It’s a testament to years of deep love and care, now quieted by change.
Similarly, when longstanding friendships dissolve as lives diverge — due to differences in life paths or simply because of geographical distance — the grief felt is real. It reflects the love and experiences shared, now a memory that stings with its absence.
Grieving Our Former Selves
Grief also comes from within — mourning parts of our identity that were tied to phases of life, dreams, or ambitions now past. An athlete who must retire due to an injury might grieve their competitive days, a vibrant aspect of their identity that brought joy and fulfilment. This grief is a nod to their passion and dedication to their sport — a form of self-love that must be honoured and mourned.
Grieving Through Change
Life’s inevitable changes often force us to leave behind cherished eras. A young adult may grieve their childhood, safe and carefree, as they step into the responsibilities of adulthood. Or one might mourn the loss of independence that comes with age or illness. Each of these transitions requires us to let go of a part of our life that we loved and identified with deeply.
Embracing Grief as a Measure of Love
Recognising grief as a measure of love offers a comforting perspective during painful times. It allows us to appreciate our capacity for love and connection. Grief is not a state to be hurried through but a profound expression of our human experience. It signifies that we loved deeply, and therefore, we feel deeply in loss.
Moving Forward with Grief
The process of grieving is deeply personal and has no set timeline. It involves gradually learning to live with the loss, not getting over it but integrating the experience into our lives. This integration is how we honour our love for what we’ve lost — by carrying it forward in our memories and actions, allowing it to shape us but not define us.
In acknowledging that grief is the receipt of our love, we find a way to cherish our losses without letting them overshadow our continued journey. We learn that it’s okay to feel deeply, to mourn, and to continue loving in the spaces left behind. Grief, in its echoing pain, reminds us that we have loved, and because of this, we have lived truly and fully.
After writing both of these pieces I have come to respect Fitzgerald more than I thought possible. The lengths that my mind had to go to attempt to write like him and research vocabulary that is not a part of my regular vernacular made this an interesting project.
I’m keen to hear your thoughts on this little experiment. It is something that I greatly enjoyed doing as it pushed my limits in my creative expression whilst also allowing me to get lost in a different part of my mind.
If you have not attempted to do something like this before I highly recommend that you give it a go. Pick a topic, write it as you normally would, and then pick an author that you admire and attempt to write using your perception of their thoughts and expression.
It is a very illuminating activity.
