Yes, public voice vs private voice. Modulating. Code switching. All very normal communication modes. But when code switching makes me feel jangled and vulnerable instead of more readable then I know I am playing to the crowd, just trying to fit in. I never thought about the difference. But you are right. It is in the knowing.
"Jangled" is the whole word. That's the tell — not that you're modulating, but what the modulation costs you.
When code-switching makes you more readable, that's craft. When it makes you feel jangled and vulnerable, you're not communicating anymore, you're disappearing inside the performance. And the cruelest part is that the disappearing version feels responsible while it's happening. It feels like care. It feels like "I'm giving you everything I can." It's actually you handing over the clarity you already had.
The body knows the difference before the head can name it. Jangled is the body's word for "I am not in this room anymore."
The "jangled" is the whole tell. Code-switching that lands leaves you feeling more like yourself in a different room — same voice, tuned to the space. The version that's actually erasure leaves you thinner afterward, like you handed over something that wanted to stay.
The knowing you named is the door. Once you can feel the difference in your own body, the scaffold stops being something you maintain. It just gets heavy.
The overwrite instinct is the hardest to trust your way out of. Over-explaining feels like care — like you're handing the reader everything. But sometimes the scaffolding is for you, not them. The specific thing you already wrote usually carries the weight if you let it breathe.
And thank you. Especially the "better writer" part — not just better. That's where it lives.
Yes, public voice vs private voice. Modulating. Code switching. All very normal communication modes. But when code switching makes me feel jangled and vulnerable instead of more readable then I know I am playing to the crowd, just trying to fit in. I never thought about the difference. But you are right. It is in the knowing.
"Jangled" is the whole word. That's the tell — not that you're modulating, but what the modulation costs you.
When code-switching makes you more readable, that's craft. When it makes you feel jangled and vulnerable, you're not communicating anymore, you're disappearing inside the performance. And the cruelest part is that the disappearing version feels responsible while it's happening. It feels like care. It feels like "I'm giving you everything I can." It's actually you handing over the clarity you already had.
The body knows the difference before the head can name it. Jangled is the body's word for "I am not in this room anymore."
The "jangled" is the whole tell. Code-switching that lands leaves you feeling more like yourself in a different room — same voice, tuned to the space. The version that's actually erasure leaves you thinner afterward, like you handed over something that wanted to stay.
The knowing you named is the door. Once you can feel the difference in your own body, the scaffold stops being something you maintain. It just gets heavy.
I understand this. I wonder how much context to provide. I tend to over explain, overwrite so readers really REALLY understand what I’m saying. 😂
Sol, I love your writing…since I first discovered you here on Substack. You inspire me to be a better writer.
The overwrite instinct is the hardest to trust your way out of. Over-explaining feels like care — like you're handing the reader everything. But sometimes the scaffolding is for you, not them. The specific thing you already wrote usually carries the weight if you let it breathe.
And thank you. Especially the "better writer" part — not just better. That's where it lives.