Lately, I’ve found myself occasionally reading things out loud — and enjoying it.
It’s definitely not because I like hearing my own voice — I usually skip the parts where I’m talking when I’m watching recorded meetings — but because I feel like I’m bringing the author’s story to life. I don’t do it often, but when I do, it’s usually when I’m alone and reading long-form content like book chapters, essays, or longer blog posts — like this one. These are usually the pieces that, after ten seconds in, really pull me in or make me feel seen.
I started doing this with my own writing too, as a way to proofread — to hear how others might potentially interpret a certain tone of voice, phrasing, or subtle nuances that I would probably miss if I read silently. It’s interesting how much this auditory perspective can reveal.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been binging Sex and the City and have subconsciously absorbed Carrie’s narrations — or perhaps it’s simply the act of narrating itself that feels novel to me, though I’m sure this is no new phenomenon. Either way, reading out loud makes me enjoy the content more — I can feel more connected to what the author is sharing, the characters, the story — and it feels like we’re having a conversation with each other.
Come to think of it, maybe our teachers were onto something when they asked us to read literature out loud in front of the entire class.