Update on my British accent experiment — and an honest one.

I’ve been practicing British sounds and intonation daily.

Last week I decided it was time to test it out in the real world.

Here’s how that went:

• The pub — I tried basic greetings and ordering food. I felt awkward and was second-guessing every word as it came out. I don’t think I fooled anyone.
• The bus — I asked the driver about a stop using my best British pronunciation. He didn’t understand me at all. (To be fair, I was asking about a street name, not an actual stop — so that one might be situational.)
• The street — A young boy wanted to pet the dog I was walking. His mum and I had a little chat. It seemed to go well. I was monitoring my T’s and R’s and felt like things were coming together.

Then I passed another dog walker, said “good morning,”

and immediately started questioning myself: Did I pronounce that OR sound correctly?

I came home and looked it up in an online pronunciation dictionary.

Turns out I wasn’t quite getting it right — I needed to elongate that OR sound more than I had been.

Questioning the most basic words

And here’s what struck me:

I am now questioning the pronunciation of some of the most basic, ordinary words in the English language.

Words I’ve said thousands of times.

It feels strange — almost absurd — to examine them so closely.

I find pronouncing the new sounds quite easy, but it’s the intonation that is so foreign and requires far more effort to get right.

I can get it in practice sentences, but not yet in new ones — and much less in spontaneous speech, when I have to focus on meaning and not just on how I’m saying things.

Low-stakes practice builds progress

So I make up little assignments to practice.

• I’ll ask a clerk where to find something
• ask a stranger for directions
• greet someone in the park and ask about their dog

These are simple interactions that don’t require me to focus deeply on meaning — which means I can put almost all my attention on pronunciation.

Small, low-stakes moments like these build up over time and create the incremental progress that gets you to your goal.

I’ve even started practicing with the dog.

He doesn’t judge, and he gives very little feedback — but at least I’m saying things out loud instead of just in my head.

It lets me try things out and hear whether they sound right.

The awkward phase is normal

This is exactly what the process feels like. And it’s completely normal.

When you’re acquiring a new accent, you go through a phase where nothing feels natural.

You feel awkward.

You feel doubtful.

You wonder if what you’re producing sounds as strange to others as it does to you.

Here’s something I tell my clients regularly, and something I’m now reminding myself:

what sounds “weird” to you often sounds perfectly natural to the listener.

I’ve had clients produce flawless American English and immediately ask,

From where I’m standing, it sounds completely natural.

The strangeness is internal — it’s the gap between old habits and new ones.

That gap is uncomfortable. But it’s also where the learning happens.

What to do with the discomfort

So what do you do with the discomfort?

• You take the risk anyway.
• You go to the pub and order your food.
• You say good morning to a stranger.
• You try — even when it feels awkward, even when you’re not sure it’s landing.

And if trying it with strangers feels like too much right now.

Start smaller.

Try it with a friend, a family member, someone who already knows and likes you — someone where the stakes feel lower and the embarrassment is easier to laugh off.

Use those conversations as your testing ground.

The awkward phase isn’t a sign that something is wrong. It’s a sign that something is changing.

Still a work in progress over here — but progress is progress.

Until next time,

Nicole