Writing Out Loud

“Read your work out loud.” This is one of the best pieces of advice I’ve given as an editor and received as a writer. When we do, we hear where what we’ve written has lost our voice, POV, or story thread. Reading our work out loud is particularly helpful when writing dialogue. We want the conversations to ring true to the reader’s ear, and the vocabulary of each character to be consistent with their personalities and background. We catch repeated words, or filler words that dilute our meaning. There’s an energy created in reading the story out loud, and we can viscerally feel when it loses its drive.

Another way to read our work out loud is to use dictation, rather than handwriting or typing, to create our first drafts. I recently spoke with my editor and friend Melanie Hill about this method. While recovering from a broken wrist, Melanie used dictation to create first drafts of her work-in-progress. Her reading partner gave her surprising feedback: the more recent work had a different tone and quality from previous drafts that had been created at the keyboard and screen. This is a remarkable discovery—that this first, essential tool of creation impacts the author’s voice so profoundly. I have recalibrated my writing process, too.

• From MRO Creative’s newsletter The Wren’s Song: Seasonal Insights for Writers and Storytellers, August 2026

All my life, writing with pen and paper has been my go-to for getting my first draft on the page. Back in the day, I’d transcribe these pages on a typewriter. With “desktop publishing” (I’m dating myself with that term!), I dictated the raw, hand-written piece into an electronic document for editing. An important gestation took place between the contact of my pen on the paper, the words residing on that page, and then reading them out loud to see the document take shape. I still use a pen and paper, but I can no longer write extensive drafts due to arthritis pain in both my hands. Now, I dictate my first drafts, and it’s a whole new ball game for this writer.

Dictating the first draft has its own set of challenges. First, there’s finding the quiet space to do it. I don’t want anyone to eavesdrop on my tender, new thoughts. Even in my own company, I feel vulnerable speaking my thoughts out loud, fresh and unrehearsed. A scribbled, first rush of words is confined to the page, and as loose as they might feel, a bit of self-editing happens, and the notebook can be quickly shut to hide from prying eyes. Dictation is like a big, extroverted purge of thoughts and feelings. Once spoken, they hang in the air, thick with emotion. This freedom of speech is both invigorating and humbling.

My first attempts at using dictation for first drafts were on client proposals, web copy, and marketing materials. I’m not a bad public speaker, and so these drafts came easily and were quickly tightened up and published. Dictating first drafts of my novel, however, proved more challenging. Watching my words appear on the screen while dictating was so distracting! The system that works for me is Microsoft 365 and the adjacent app on my phone. I open Word on the app, tap on the microphone icon, and dictate into a document that is easily retrieved on my computer. The voice recognition is amazing; unlike the clunky early versions of Dragon Naturally Speaking I trained a couple decades ago when tendonitis was my nemesis. My phone functions as a microphone and I can walk and talk without the screen’s distraction. I sometimes act out scenes in my novel, which connects me with my characters physically — something that rarely happens sitting at the computer. The microphone goes to sleep when I’m lost in thought, though. So, when inspiration strikes after a long silence, I need to remember to tap the microphone icon again. Kinda like picking up the pen after a break from writing.

Working in pain is part of what it takes to be a writer, yes? That’s what we’ve been told: If you want to be a writer, get your **** in the chair and push through. I did that for so long I created an unconscious association between the pain in my hands and my creativity. In addition to all the other reasons I could find to resist the work, physical pain was tied to my creative process. I thought all I could do was to keep pushing through, and all that did was bring more guilt and feelings of inadequacy because I couldn’t bring myself to the page.

Finally, I broke down and in a long (dictated) email, I admitted to my dear editor Melanie that the pain in my hands was holding me back. This was a big breakthrough in my creative process. Her sympathy and encouragement helped me get back to writing, and to grieve the significant loss of my pen to paper go-to process. The pain forced me to create a new pathway in my brain: to dictate first, then pick up the pen. Editing a printed draft by hand gives me that visceral joy of pushing the pen across the paper, of hearing the pin point scratch, and seeing the page fill with thoughts, ideas – my voice – that I thought I’d lost with dictation.

We speak of an author’s process of discovering and refining their voice on the page as something different than their conversational voice. When I write my Dear Gina column, or my personal posts like this, dictating takes me to a deeper, more intimate place quicker than a hand-written or typed draft. When I dictate, I seem to be able to convey not only my thoughts and experiences, but also a measure of reflection at the same time. With each word spoken, I get closer to what I want to say.

Early in his professional baseball career, Vince Coleman of the St. Louis Cardinals set out to become a switch-hitter. A natural right-hander, his batting coach gave Vince a heavy metal pipe and instructed him to take it home and swing it 100 times every night with his left arm. Vince faithfully carried out this exercise, and within a few months’ time became a hitting force from both sides of the plate. While I’m no Major League hitter, dictating my first drafts is now about as smooth as Vince hitting from the left side. We both found a new way to play the game.