There’s an old joke that used to float around — about a wife who owned many hats and loved to wear them.
One day she put on a fancy one and said to her husband, “I was down in the dumps today and I found this!”
“Oh, so that’s where you get them!” he replied.
* * *
It’s Thursday and here are the words I promised. I want to introduce my imaginary sidekick, who is newly created, as of tonight, and, as yet, un-named.
Well, as a writer, I’m not down in the dumps . . .
and I’m not looking for a hat.
But I am looking . . . for something.
I’m looking for my voice.
My imaginary sidekick says, “What? Have you lost your voice? Do you have laryngitis?”
I reply, “Of course not. Do I look sick?”
“Well, no, but why are you looking for your voice?”
“It’s my writing voice,” I reply. “It’s the voice I need to use when I write stories. You know, like Ernest– like Harper– like Mark . . . ?”
“I remember when the mentor at Hemingway Pfeiffer Writer’s Retreat compared your voice to that of Eudora Welty. Remember that?”
“Yes, that was when he critiqued my story about Kit. But since then, I’ve misplaced my voice. And I’m looking for it so I can finish that series on Kit.”