I Work in Memories and Manifestations

I love reading because it can move you in every way possible. It can help you fall asleep or keep you up late. It can move you to tears, make you feel close to people you’ve never met, real or fictional. It can teach you things, inspire you to write new stories, and it can take you around the world.

Whenever I read a particularly good book, I always think “Wouldn’t it be fun to write one?” But then I think “Oh, I couldn’t do that — who’s got the time, and I’m not a writer.”

Yet, when I really think about it, over the years at this job alone I’ve likely written enough published sentences about hotels, travel, and vacations to fill a book or two. At one point I was writing social posts for 10 different clients with each account requiring 10-13 posts per month.

That’s near 1,200 posts a year. And I’ve had this job for five years.

There’s no telling how many of those posts are true original thoughts, but the sheer volume of output is staggering. And it’s all anonymous.

I work in memories and manifestations. The words I write on the clock are all in hopes of inspiring strangers to travel, specifically to certain hotels or destinations or to make them remember why they loved that property during their last visit.

I convince people they are the type of person who takes that luxury getaway. I tell them why this place isn’t just a business, it’s a family, or an experience unlike any other — it’s something special you cannot miss out on. It won’t solve your problems but it will help you forget them. And if you can afford a stay there, are your problems even that bad?

(That’s another thing, I’m usually talking to an audience in a much higher tax bracket than my own.)

But a skill that all of this client work has sharpened to the bone is my ability to shift tone and personality in my writing. But where does that leave my true voice? How do I find it? What do I sound like?

Right now, I’m fresh off of reading Helene Hanff, so I hear a whip smart New Yorker in my head slapping sentences onto the page, but I know that’s not me. I’m currently reading Naomi Klein’s deep dive into the “mirror world” of misinformation and propaganda — Doppelgänger — and her incisive prose isn’t mine either.

I think the only way to find my voice is to write, and to write daily. So I do. My morning pages are inconsistent but plentiful. I’ve slowly started the process of reading back through them, as cringey as it may be. It’s how I found this piece, a quick scrawl of a rumination on searching for my own voice in the void — fittingly unfinished.

If you’re new here, Allie Binford is a writer, reader, and photographer living in New York City. Her day job is creating content and social media strategies for luxury hotels, resorts, and destinations at J/PR. In her free time she is a freelance photographer, creator, and substack writer.