As an extroverted introvert, I have a public face, public voice that rings with “pear shaped tones” per my training in the theater. My private face, my private voice, hmm, there’s a bunch of them. Playwrighting teachers say that’s perfectly normal for playwrights. Psychologists tend to think so long as it doesn’t interfere with getting on with your life, it’s fine. So this thing of finding your voice is more like choosing your voice or not letting the aggrieved-with-the-world voice slip in to mess up the fun voice I want to play with. I’m reminded of my lawyer, an amiable, tenor voiced person. He deepens and resonates his voice when he wants to put the fear of the law into you. He calls it his “big pants voice.”
I’m thinking we playwrights–I’m a member of the Dramatists Guild–are a rather severe type of extroverted-introverts. Think of it, we are tucked away writing, and we emerge not to speak, but to make other people speak out loud in front of a big audience, preferably lots of big audiences! Perhaps we are extro-egoverted-introverts. I’m musing this because I am in the process of opening a small black box theater. I’m hiring an independent contractor publicist and she, and I have been writing her contract. I just sent it to my lawyer. He says it “needs lots of polishing.” As a playwright, as a novelist, I know all about that annoying polishing. Indeed, in my fantasy, Foreshadow, Book One of the Saga of Dragon-Born I found two pages where practically every third word is capitalized. How did this glut of capitals happen? Do other extroverted-introvert authors have the bad habit of emulating Victorian novels by capitalizing all sorts non-worthy-of-capitals-words?