“Sofia, PAY ATTENTION.”

Every eye in the suddenly all-too-silent classroom turned to look at me.

For some reason, I lost my ability to swallow.

Those two words would change the trajectory of my future career. But, of course, I didn’t know that yet.

Those two words were spoken by none other than my extremely irate 9th-grade English Lit teacher, Mr. Marsh. I was in the middle of telling my friend Brooke about the wonders of using Tiger Balm to cure a headache (no joke) when the whole class fell silent. You legitimately could have heard a pin drop. Not to mention, this came barely one week after my Kim Possible text ringtone went off at full volume in the middle of class. (Somehow everyone automatically knew where the sound came from.)🤦🏻‍♀️

Mr. Marsh was not playing games. At that moment, I was officially class disruptor, public enemy No. 1. 

AKA, my worst nightmare.

If you have an older sibling, you know for a fact that their every action can make or break your subsequent high school experience. I was blessed and cursed with a super-high-achieving-always-knew-what-she-wanted-to do-never-break-the-rules-never-talk-in-class-never-get-a-B older sister*. Naturally, she’s also an avid reader, a great writer, and an all-around Mr. Marsh Hall of Famer. 

*She actually never got a B until she went to UNC for college. I’m talking straight A’s, K–12. But I digress.

I, on the other hand, was the super-outgoing-here-for-a-good-time-talked-too-much-had-no-idea-what-I-wanted-to-do-with-my-life younger sister. I got my share of B’s but overall, I was still a dedicated student, albeit all over the place. 

But it was halfway through the year in Mr. Marsh’s 9th grade English Lit class that I finally got a much-needed wake-up call. I could spend the next four years talking through class or I could pay attention.

And pay attention, I did. I quickly learned that incurring the wrath of Mr. Marsh wasn’t worth the risk.

Not only did we learn in-depth about existentialism, Calvinism, and transcendentalism (super digestible topics for a group of glorified middle schoolers to grasp), but more importantly, we learned how much power one wields when taught how to manipulate words on a page. 

Before I go any further:

On the very off chance Mr. Marsh ever reads this, I need to apologize in advance for the amount of passive voice contained in this post. Phew. Had to get that off my chest.

Mr. Marsh prides himself on teaching a “deconstructed keyhole essay” method of writing. No, your thesis statement should not come at the end of the introductory paragraph like the book says it should. You need to hook your readers. Give them a reason to get sucked in, stick with you, and re-read the ending three times because they’re so amazed at how you arrived at your conclusion. And for God’s sake, NO FLUFF. 

“Get to the point and give me something.”

“Learn the rules of grammar so well that you’re allowed to break them.”

If he didn’t like your writing style or how you worded a paragraph, he would simply cross everything out and write “blah” in the margins. Even if you “technically” answered the prompt. He also graded every paper out of 9 points. So losing one point meant you automatically averaged a B. 

A score of 9 on any paper was coveted in Mr. Marsh’s class. That meant he actually stayed awake through your entire paper and didn’t want to throw up once he finished reading. 

Needless to say, survival in his class was not a given. Many students ended up transferring out, switching to another teacher, or passing by the skin of their teeth. 

Loving his class was an unpopular opinion, and yet, I registered for every class he taught during my remaining high school years. 

Miraculously, I went on to become a certified Grammar Goddess ™ (his words, not mine) and win gold at the much-anticipated class-wide Grammar Olympics ™. I’m proud to say that I beat out the class valedictorian on that specific occasion. But don’t scrutinize my grammar these days—back then I was writing for grades; now, it’s just my livelihood. 

Under Mr. Marsh’s instruction, I not only learned the art of storytelling, but I also fell in love with words. For the first time, I felt like I had an outlet to express myself confidently in a way I never could in regular conversation.

I finally found my voice.

And in doing so, I took the first step toward what I will likely do for the rest of my life—write. Not just for myself, but more importantly, for others. To them and on their behalf.

Let me explain:

I started my career in marketing by writing eight blogs a month for an online tire reseller. 

To the detriment of my otherwise unblemished transcript, I dropped my Design Studies minor three months into my junior year of college just to take the job. You could say I was eager. But if you’ve ever tried to write eight well-researched, 1000+ word blogs a month on any subject, you’d know that’s enough to burn out even the most zealous of YoPros. Especially when it’s a topic about which you’re forced to speak intelligently and about which you have zero background knowledge. Like, none.

Not to mention, that was just one of the 50+ blog or email clients assigned to me during my 11-month stint at iContact in Morrisville, NC. I worked 20 hours a week during the semester and by the time I left at the end of the summer, I was clocking 35 hours a week. 

During any given week, I was crafting social media audits and reports, writing blog posts, and building email campaigns. Every minute of my time was spent writing. 

Now for miracle number two. The Tires-Easy blog assignment didn’t dampen my fervor. I think the simple fact that I had the ability to churn out eight blogs a month on such a mundane topic helped me realize that I could probably write justttt about anything in the world for any length of time.

All that to say, I’m grateful I now get a say in what I write and for whom I write.

Working on By Sofia Brown is full of pinch-me moments, severe writer’s block days, and more rewarding occasions than I can say.

Finding my voice through writing was a moment of clarity for me—personally and professionally. 

It brings me so much joy to inspire blog readers and help small business owners find their brand voice through this medium. It’s a feeling of empowerment I get to pass on to my clients daily!

If you’ve read this far into my story, I am so thankful for you. I hope you feel inspired to go write something today. And if you’re struggling to find your brand voice as a small business owner, I’d love to connect with you. The best way to resonate with your ideal clients is by helping them see themselves in your one-of-a-kind story. 

Let’s craft it together.