Day 15: Writing Differently to Stand Out

And also my nana said I was different. Not in a nice way.

Photo by Susan Holt Simpson on Unsplash

I’ve been thinking a bit about how to be helpful in these posts because if I’m not helpful there’s not really a point, is there?

Oh. That sounds like I’m in the murky middle of the month of February, past the sugar rush/love rush of Valentine’s right? Heading into the quietest time of winter for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere.

That makes me sad a bit. But I actually like winter.

Let’s get started.

Before she died, my Nana Morse said to my sister, "Well, you know, Carrie has always been a little ... different."

My sister nodded pretty emphatically.

"She's just so different," Nana said.

She said this ALL throughout my growing up.

Me rocking the vest and wavy bangs

She wasn't wrong.

Nana Morse was worried about this a lot—about me being different. She also worried that I didn't get enough protein. Or why I dressed so 'differently.'

And honestly, I was so used to not fitting into my family by then that my only reaction was "she just used the word 'different' to describe me twice. That's not really creative of her. I wish I could edit her word choice a bit."

So, yeah, she was obviously right.

When I was little, at a pool party where I was told again how different I was, Avó Palreiro took me aside and said, "You be you. To hell with everyone else."

And then she glared at my nana.

Me still being weird. Only one of my grandmothers would approve of this picture.

The thing is that different is okay. Different is good. Different can be stigmatic and incite bullies and all sorts of negative things, but different is also innovative. Different people who take action? They make changes in this world. This world needs positive change. So, if you feel a bit different or if your family or others are mocking you for it? Well, they suck, honestly. Ignore the suck. Be you.

This is true about writing, too. AI is sort of showing the blandness of writing that “fits in.”

Recently, I received something written that just didn’t feel right. I put it in an AI detector and it came back 100% AI.

Was it AI? I’m not sure, but it was boring as hell and used a lot of Oxford commas. Do I remember it now? Nope. It’s blended into a place in my brain where all the same-old, same-old essays and blog posts and letters to editors and books and poems sit.

You know what’s not there? Writing that took chances. Books like The Color Purple. The Book Thief. Illusions. Writing that was different because of style, subject, word choice, sentence structure, voice.