Why It's Ok to Talk to Yourself Out Loud as a Writer
I have a confession.
Do you have your tea and a warm afghan?
Good, because when we're together, I want these writing sessions to be stripped down, but also helpful.
So here's the big bad secret:
I talk to myself when I write.
Not in my head. Not the quiet, internal muttering that everyone does. I mean out loud. Full sentences. Sometimes with hand gestures. Sometimes in character voices.
My cat Honey thinks I am unhinged. She is probably right.
But here is what I have learned: talking to myself is not a sign that I am losing it. It is a tool. And I am done being embarrassed about it.
And psychology actually backs this:
Psychology Today says:
"Psychology strongly supports talking to yourself as a beneficial, normal cognitive tool that improves focus, emotional regulation, and memory. Research indicates that vocalizing thoughts helps structure complex tasks, reduces anxiety, boosts motivation, and improves performance under pressure, essentially serving as a personal, auditory cognitive aid."
[Thanks Google. I may not like your all AI baloney, but the reference does work here.]
Well you heard it here first, ladies and gents, theys and thems:
We are actually not crazy!! ❤️
So hold onto your seats as we dive into this, and of course, the writing process.
Why talking out loud works:
1. Your ear catches what your eye misses.
When you read silently, your brain is faster than your eyes. It fills in gaps. It corrects mistakes automatically. It hears what you meant to say, not what you actually wrote.
When you read out loud? No shortcuts. Every clunky phrase announces itself. Every repetition stumbles off your tongue. Every piece of dialogue that sounds "right" on the page suddenly sounds wrong in the air.
Your ear is a better editor than your eye. Always has been.
2. Dialogue comes alive.
I write a lot of dialogue. Thomas. The ghost. The brother. People who need to sound like people, not puppets.
When I read their lines out loud, I know immediately if they are working. Does this sound like something a person would actually say? Or does it sound like a writer being clever?
The voice in my head lies. The voice in the room tells the truth.
3. You catch your own tics.
We all have them. Favorite words we overuse. Sentence structures we fall into. Cadences that become ruts.
When you read out loud, you hear the repetition. That word again. That rhythm again. Your ear gets bored before your eye does. That is useful information.
4. It slows you down.
I am a fast reader. Too fast. I skip over things I should notice. My brain is always three sentences ahead.
Reading out loud forces me to inhabit each word. Each pause. Each punctuation mark. I cannot rush. I have to breathe.
And sometimes, in that breath, I discover something I missed.
5. It makes the page less lonely.
Writing is solitary. It is just you and the cursor and the voice in your head. That voice can get loud. And cruel. And weird.
When I talk out loud, I am present in the room. I am not lost inside my own skull. I am a person, speaking words, testing them in the air.
It sounds strange. But it feels grounding.
What I actually do:
I do not perform my whole draft like a one-person play (usually).
I read selected passages out loud. The ones that feel wobbly. The dialogue I am not sure about. The paragraph that looks fine but feels off.
I also talk to my characters sometimes. "What are you actually trying to say here, Thomas?" He never answers. But the question changes how I write the next line.
I mutter to myself while revising. "No. That is not it. Try again. Shorter. Meaner. Softer. There. That is closer."
Honey watches. Honey judges. Honey does not care.
What I am learning:
The weird stuff — the talking, the muttering, the hand gestures, the full conversations with people who do not exist — that is not a bug. That is a feature.
Writing is already strange. We sit alone for hours, making up people who never lived, and we try to make them feel real. That is absurd. That is magical. That is weird.
So why pretend it is not?
Why not embrace the weird?
Talking to yourself out loud is not a sign that you are failing at writing. It is a sign that you are doing it. Fully. Messily. Honestly.
A challenge for you (if you want):
Next time you are stuck on a sentence or a line of dialogue, read it out loud. In a room. By yourself. Let Honey watch.
Then ask:
Does this sound like a human?
Does this flow, or does it trip?
Would I believe this if someone said it to me?
And if the answer is no — talk it through. Try different words. Change the rhythm. Say it again.
You are not crazy. You are editing.
And editing is just writing with your ears open.
So go ahead. Talk to yourself.
The cat will get used to it.
And your drafts will thank you.
Here is what I am still learning. The voice that says "you look ridiculous" — that is the same voice that says "you are not a real writer." The same voice that compares your first draft to a published novel. The same voice that wants you to stay quiet, stay small, stay in your head.
Talking out loud is not just editing. It is resistance. It is proof that you are willing to look a little ridiculous in service of the work. And that willingness? That is not weakness. That is courage.
So let Honey judge. Let the neighbors wonder. Let the voice in your head call you names.
You are in the room. You are speaking the words. You are making the story real.
That is not crazy. That is craft.
And it works.