In the winter of 2023, the San Lorenzo River raged well beyond its banks, flooding neighborhoods and seizing fallen trees in its rush to the churning sea. On a recent early October afternoon, it meandered gently, with fallen leaves drifting among riffled waves. If I had wanted, I could have waded across at ankle depth. Same river, different seasons and moods.

The San Lorenzo River at Henry Cowell State Park, October 2025

Rivers push and strain at their banks, or withdraw to small, well-worn channels. They are shaped by weather and water, trees and erosion. They change their appearance daily with shifts in the wind and sky. Yet we treat them as a single entity in our minds and on our maps.

The Greek philosopher Heraclitus said that you cannot step into the same river twice, because both you and the river have changed. The same is true of our writing voices.

How far has your voice traveled?

Reading your older writing can be like stepping into a river anew. Do you recognize the voice creating the words—your former self as expressed itself in the writing?

Your writing voice is the accumulation of your thought processes, your experiences in the world, your sense of self, and of course the living/ working vocabulary in your head. Those words are influenced by reading, conversations, viewing, podcast listening, Internet memes, academic colleagues, and more.

That’s why our earlier writing may seem like the work of another being. (My old college essays were written by a much younger stranger.)

That makes it all the more wondrous when we connect deeply with something we’ve written before. We can still follow those channels of thought and reconnect with our past selves with a flash of recognition, like running into an old friend you haven’t seen for decades.

What happens when you read your older works? If your voice has changed, is it for the better? Are you happy with the direction it’s going?

How to navigate change

Unlike a river, which is pretty much at the mercy of weather, we can intentionally alter our writing voices. No heavy equipment needed.

We make minor adjustments all the time. Perhaps you write blog posts and have learned to edit and revise for conciseness. Perhaps you write fictional characters in fiction with dialog reflecting distinct voices.

We can change our voice as we write the words, or on the page in revision. Traces of your original voice usually remain in the underlying, deep channels under the words. But you can definitely control the flow of the words.

Revisit your older writing if you can find it, and see what you love and how far you have traveled. Decide if you’re happy with its direction. Perhaps you’ve gone very far down the “business-like” path and want to add more humor or creativity. Perhaps you want to take it in a new direction altogether.

Get the voice flowing

Rivers change as water flows through them. To change the course of your writing voice, fill it with words. The more you write, the more fodder you pour into that river.

Play with your writing voice—in journals, in different types of writing. Give that river a steady flow of words, and see where it goes. Because writing often deepens the way you think and perceive the world, your writing voice just may change you as well.

Want inspiration on how to do this?

Check out The Writer’s Voice—it’s a full twelve weeks’ worth of writing exercises that can help you change the course of your writing voice.