The benefits of reading your writing aloud

“The adrenaline rush that displaces fear when I own my words surprises me every time. Even if I begin with what I believe to be a ho-hum piece of throwaway writing, it is transformed from an ugly duckling to a passable swan when I read it aloud.” – Alice W. Meadows, writer (read her wonderful Substack)

When we hold in-person workshops or meet on Zoom for our Writing Prompt of the Week, we ask everyone to read what they wrote aloud. The point of this isn't so that we can hear what you wrote; it's so that you can hear what you wrote—and feel what it feels like to own your words.

When you read your work aloud, you learn to focus on what you like more than on what you don't like. Why? Because you can't "edit." You don't have the ability to cross out or delete and rewrite, because you're reading to people who don't want you to break the spell. So you're not in editing mind, looking for what you want to change. When you read a passage that you're not crazy about, you just keep going past it. And when you read a phrase or sentence or passage that you do like, you get a little rush of dopamine, the pleasure hormone. Your body responds to what you wrote.

And when your body feels good, it wants more of that. It wants you to write more of what you like in your writing—and it's not paying much attention to what you're not that keen on. This is how you effortlessly retrain your inner critic to support you rather than hinder you. You praise yourself organically, and your body urges you toward more of the same.

So, reading aloud is also good for motivation. The promise of that hit of dopamine makes you want to write!

What are those bits in your writing that your body likes? Usually bits that surprise you: arresting images, new insights and speculations, striking phrases. The kind of thing it's hard to write by force of will. Have you ever tried to sit down and think up a great metaphor? It's not easy. But when you write in the Imaginative Storm method, letting your imaginative intelligence take the lead, those metaphors and images just come to you. Then, when you read them aloud, your pleasure in speaking and hearing them pushes you toward freeing your imagination even more.

So, when you write this way, you're curious about what you'll come up with. And curiosity and criticism cannot coexist. Your body, anticipating that next hit of dopamine, will encourage you to write what you don't know, so you can surprise yourself.

Often, when you read what you wrote aloud, you notice good things that you hardly noticed when you were writing them. We've heard countless people dismiss what they wrote and then read it anyway, and discover that they like what they wrote far more than they thought they would. Inevitably, those of us listening feel the same.

So, reading your raw work aloud develops your confidence—and not just because of other people’s responses. When you vocalize your words, you feel them being given form in your throat. The sound waves you generate make patterns on the air and literally touch people—including you. You are literally having an impact on the world. A short one, yes, but an impact all the same. When you read what you wrote aloud, you assert your place in the world.

Plus, you’re developing your vocal skills, so that when you find yourself speaking to a “real” audience, your delivery will be strong and emotionally connected.

As well as retraining your inner critic, reading aloud develops your internal authenticity meter. As you get used to reading your work aloud, fully connected to the words, you'll know when the words don't sound like you because they won't feel like you. You get a squirrelly feeling and you want to change them. Or maybe they're just not quite saying what you want to say. When you read silently on the page, you can easily overlook phrases and passages that your trained-up body will bring to your notice. And because you've trained your judging faculties to appreciate rather than criticize, you're less likely to think this bit is "bad," and more likely to simply decide it needs more work.

So, reading your work aloud is a powerful way to find your voice—as is writing by hand. When you're writing on a computer, it all looks so neat and tidy that it might almost be finished, with a bit of editing. It looks a little more like the writing you read and admire, which probably by definition was written by somebody else. The changes you make may send it further in that direction. And if you're trying to write like somebody else, is it any wonder that you feel you need to find your voice?

When you write by hand, you're much less tempted to edit because it's less easy to read and it gets messy very quickly. So you just push on. It's easier for your imagination to take the lead since you're not making it easy for your rational, judging mind to grab control. Then, when you read aloud, your words look like yours because they're in your handwriting. They look familiar. It's much easier to connect with what you wrote, and because the situation is informal, you're less worried about impressing your listeners. You might even find it hard to read your writing—which is a bonus, because that makes you focus all your attention—rational, imaginative, and emotional—on what the words actually say.

If you've never done this before, you may find it easier to do on Zoom than in a room of warm-blooded people. Usually we break out into rooms of approximately six people, all of whom are only there to mirror back to you what's powerful in your writing. Everybody wrote in 10 minutes! And it's absurd to criticize something written in such a short time. The only sensible response is appreciation.