There is magic in reading aloud
Quite early on in this blog, I reminisced about bedtime reading in a post entitled ‘The Magic of Story-Telling’. I recalled how my Dad would read to me, and the simple joy of sharing the adventures that unfolded. I’d like to think that he enjoyed reading the stories as much as I liked hearing them.
As an adult, I’ve rediscovered the magic of reading aloud, although it didn’t come naturally, and at first I felt self-conscious about it. Members of my writing group encouraged me to read my work, to assess the flow of my writing, and the believability of dialogue. I would feel a little mad, sat at my computer, reading aloud, but it really does work. I’d like to think that the posts on this blog have benefitted from me reading them aloud first.
Letting the words on the page come breathe, and come alive of their own accord
Poems and stories shouldn’t lie static on the page, to gather dust in libraries and museums. They should be heard for all to enjoy.
When I first joined my writing group, I would never read my own submissions aloud, but would nominate someone else. I soon discovered that other people ‘loved’ to hear me read, and this gave me the courage to do so. Now, I really enjoy adding drama as I read. I’d love to be able to provide an audio version of my blog posts for all to hear, a kind of mini-performance. Maybe in the future I will…
So, have you any experiences of listening to stories, or, indeed reading aloud to your children, for instance. In any case, I’d love to hear from you. Thanks for reading!