Round on the ends and [...]. How place shapes writing voice.

Every region's landscape contributes to the tapestry of the time and our personal view of the world.

I, Jen Knox, am a writer from Ohio.

When I say that, what is the first thing that comes to mind? (Please put it in the chat before reading on … I’m so curious.)

Identifying regionally as a writer can offer some interesting material, and we don’t always have a choice about what that is or how others label it. More (and this is the toughie), where we are located influences what and the way we see reality.

What does it mean to be a writer or person in the world where you are right now?

How does it impact the way you see the rest of the world?

I grew up knowing that I was in the state that was “round on the ends and ‘hi’ in the middle.” Please don’t hold that against me. Then again, if you do, that’s part of my story.

I grew up in a test market city, middle America, where businesses got their start or realized they wouldn’t make it because we, Ohioans, supposedly represented what was average about the American experience.

To be born in the Midwestern states can mean different things today, but to me, growing up in the 80s and 90s, it meant being raised with an appreciation for honesty and sarcasm in equal measure. It meant having access to endless lush green (but mostly flat) land, to be surrounded by an abundance of creeks and cardinals and crawdads. It meant to call the little bugs that light up at night either lightning bugs or fireflies, depending on the side of town.

To be from the capital of Ohio also meant to come from a bustling downtown that was just a few miles from an abundance of farmland; Columbus, during my lifetime, was always a growing city where the freeways couldn’t keep up and everyone was supposed to love football. To be from here means being from a swing state that shifted red, not by population shift but through redistricting.

Ohio is the target of many stand-up jokes. It’s understandable. But even within that, there is material to mine as a writer. Regionality, like any experience, shapes how and what we see.

Photo by Justin Sleight on Unsplash

I often tell coaching clients: start where you are. Not in the ‘write what you know’ sense alone, but in the more literal sense. Where does the ground under your feet lead you? What assumptions has your region baked into you without your consent?

Even when I was in Texas, I often wrote stories centered in the Ohio that was imprinted in my mind, and as I look back on all that I’ve examined, I realize, increasingly, the distinction of that lens.

It’s there in Radicals (my forthcoming historical novel), too. Ohio shaped Victoria Woodhull, born in Homer, raised in a family of grifters and visionaries, who left and kept leaving and never fully escaped the place that made her. She became the first woman to run for president, and almost nobody in the state that produced her knows her name. That erasure feels very Ohio to me. The flatness that swallows things whole.

But tapping into where we are doesn’t have to be limiting. It can be freeing.

It can open our eyes to what we have to offer and what we have to learn.

What’s outside your window? What do you see during your commute or when walking the dog? What landscapes fill your vision? What is available or not available at your local grocery store?

Being present and honest about where we are and how it influences us helps to set the stage for creative exploration and helps us to question our assumptions, so let’s do that.

Prompt: Take some time to explore what it means to be where you are right now. What does your geography ask of you? What stereotypes are placed upon you, what nature surrounds you, and how does all of it reflect and resist who you are?

Mindfulness practice: Try it for a week. Get all regionally aware. :)

Sidebar: Along with my narrative about Victoria Woodhull, my forthcoming novel interweaves a current-day narrative that reflects a truth that is emergent and terrifying here. The modern-day character, Avery, is searching for Victoria’s strength as she tries to stand in the way of the construction of a new data center in her neighborhood.

As I move, this is actually happening in the town I will soon live. The good and the bad both feed our narratives. They are part of the human story and dilemma. I am not amused by the coincidence.

I, Jen Knox, am a writer from Ohio. I am also more than that.

Here’s a little sample of how the state showed up in my early work. I wrote this flash piece I wrote for my sister when I didn’t think we’d speak again (I look so young! Eek!).