A fresh voice...that's what we're talking about...that intangible, elusive quality in a novel that all the editors say they’re looking for. Do you have that fresh voice? Do you have an identifiable writing voice?
To start, let's not confuse voice with style. Voice is what you say. Style is how you say it. But you can’t have one without the other. Style is a part of our writer’s voice and both are totally individual and unique. I like to think of voice and style as ingredients in a recipe that when combined become one entity –- a delicious meal to be consumed ravenously.
But, it’s voice we’re talking about. Your distinct writer’s voice is you...it’s your defining way of thinking and speaking...it’s individual and unique...it’s your personality on paper, and it’s recognizable the moment a reader delves into one of your books.
Or not.
If you’re not one of the lucky ones who have a natural voice and style that crackles and sings and floats down from some heavenly muse the moment pen meets paper...or fingers meet the keyboard...then you might want to listen up. The truth is, in the beginning, most of us are more concerned with creating the story and learning our craft. We focus on the important stuff first and we’re not even thinking about some elusive quality that seems to have no definition whatsoever. But there’s no escaping it. Sooner or later, we have to find our voice, coax it out, and then develop it.
How important is voice when everything else in the story is as good as you can make it? Well, consider this-–voice is the first thing an editor notices when she picks up your query letter, synopsis, or first page to read. Readers notice it the moment they start reading. We can make that first sentence, that first paragraph, and that first page as interesting as we can, and yet, in the end, if there is no unique voice--if the prose sounds like anyone in the room could’ve written it--the story will feel flat and lifeless. Voice is king! Books with a great voice are forgiven many sins. Not that you want to be a sinner, but you get the idea.
And by now, I bet you want me to shut up and tell you how you can find your writer’s voice. Okay. Here are a few tips that might help.
1. Before you begin writing for the day, warm up with some free writing. Just go with the flow, write about anything that’s on your mind…for 2 or 3 minutes. Keep your fingers on the keys or pen to paper.
2. Forget making your manuscript perfect. Yes, grammar is important, but that’s what revisions are for. Too many times beginners looking for perfection edit their voice right out of the manuscript.
3. Write like you talk. Yeah, that’s right. Just lay it out there. We all have our personal patterns of speech, our favorite words and phrases. Look at some of the emails that you’ve sent a best friend and you’ll see what I mean.
4. Put the tape recorder on when you’re talking on the phone to a friend. That’s you, that’s the person you want on paper. No one else in the world thinks exactly like you. There’s no right or wrong. You’re unique. Can your voice and style be off-putting? Sure. But that’s something for you to decide and work on during revisions. The important thing is to get your voice out there. Then refine it.
5. Write what you know. Yes, I know, you’ve heard that one a million times, but maybe not the reason. When you write what you know, you have feelings about it…emotions… and those feelings will come out in your natural voice. Voice is your passion. Style is how you carry it off. I’ve heard that the best essays students write are always about their mothers, and it’s easy to see why. Everyone has strong feelings about their mothers, one way or another.
6. Read your work out loud and if you stumble over some words, so will the reader. If you’re writing naturally in your own voice, you shouldn’t stumble.
7. When writing the first draft, don’t-overanalyze. Edit carefully, but don’t over edit the life out of it. Go for passion over perfection.
8. Remember, your word choices are part of you. They should be natural and pleasing to you, not a critique partner or anyone else. (except the editor) Be ruthless when cutting, but be kind to your voice.
9. Rewrite an excerpt of a favorite author’s work in your own narrator voice… then try it with your main character’s voice. (hint...they should be different)
Hmmm. It seems like there should be ten points here, doesn't it, but nine is what I ended up with. C’est la Vie.
Okay, here’s a fun one for practice right now, right this minute. In your very own unique writer’s narrative voice, write a spontaneous comment here and tell me how you met me...only lie about it. If you don’t know me, it doesn’t matter. Be creative. Okay…go…
13 comments:
The first time I saw Linda was at the Pi Phi spring dance--wearing the same dress I had on. Clearly the bitch had amazing taste, but it became clear that she was trouble when she spun around and I saw that her partner was my date Barry!
It didn't take me long to cut in. "Dude, did the dress confuse you, or didn't you notice she's a redhead and I'm a blond?"
"Excuse me? I don't believe we've met." Barry seemed to have amnesia.
I shoved him toward the redhead. "He's all yours, Babe. I don't share."
I huffed off and before I could get out of the door, a guy grabbed me and planted a big kiss on the back of my head. I pulled back my fist to slug him, and then I realized it was Barry. But, how could he move that fast?
"What's the rush? I've been looking all over for you. I want to introduce you to my brother Harry. Come on." I dug in my heels, but he was bigger and stronger and had no trouble dragging me across the dance floor.
Well, I'll bet you've guessed that Harry was the guy with Linda? Sure thing. We had a good laugh with the twins, and, even though Linda and I didn't end up married to Barry and Harry, we did become best friends and shopping buddies. The bitch has amazing taste!
I wish I could say I enjoyed meeting Linda, but there’s not a lot to enjoy about prison. Days seem endless, but nights are the worst, the muffled screams, the constant quiet weeping.
Just turn on cable, and you can watch all about men behind bars, but I’m here to tell you, women are more cruel. The games girls played in high school were nothing next to the politics of the prison yard. That’s why even though I didn’t enjoy our meeting, I was damn lucky it happened.
You see, there are women who no one messes with, the kind who dish out the weeping and the screams, the kind who run things. If you become friends with one of those women, you’ll probably make it to your parole hearing. If not...
Linda Style is the reason I’m here today.
I met Linda at an Overcoming Obsessions meeting.
We were all there because of our obsession with George Clooney and we knew we needed help. Not Linda. Man, I tell ya, she didn't want to be helped and it showed.
I could see it in the way her mouth tightened into a thin line whenever the intervention specialist would tell us to take a deep breath, forget about George and concentrate on our own lives.
She had the obsession bad. All his movies. Posters with the lips worn off...scary.
She's fun to hang out with at the meetings but you mark my word. That girl is trouble.
I'll never forget the day I met Linda. At the time, I lived in Sedona, leading women on spiritual quests to find and follow their true passions.
I was set to take my group of five women into the vortex when a beastly noise shattered our peace into shards. Our heads spun like tops as we turned toward it.
It was a Harley, straddled by a goddess of a woman dressed in black leather.
Goddess cut the engine and the only sound was the crackle of electricity in the air surrounding her.
She swung one long leg over the seat, removed her helmet, and strode toward us, her wild, red hair flaming.
"Hi, I'm Linda. I want to be a writer," she said as she stretched her hand out to me.
As I took her hand, felt the creative energy gushing through her, I knew she was going to be the one that weekend to realize her passion.
Man, when I'm right, I'm right. Right?
Linda and I met at a Broadway play. We were both auditioning for the part of Christine in Phantom.
We waited backstage with dozens of other actresses for our turn to try out.
"You don't have a chance, any of you," a blonde teenager sneered. "The part is mine."
"Don't be too sure," the beautiful red head said with a sly smile.
The blonde huffed away.
The red head introduced herself as Linda and winked at me. "Being too cocky can ruin an audition."
We talked about our ambitions on stage and our love for Phantom.
As Linda predicted, the blonde bombed. She left in tears.
When Linda sang, the rest of us sat in awe.
I didn't bother to try out that day, knowing Linda would get the part. We've been friends ever since.
OMG. How hysterically funny you guys are...and what great writer's voices. I'm in awe. I didn't, however, expect to have all my secrets exposed. Ann...I thought we agreed never to speak of prison ever again.
Peggy, thanks for mentioning my good taste...and not mentioning any shopaholic tendencies. When do you want to go?
Toni, you must've tapped into my alter ego somehow... me in black leather straddling a Harley, my wild, red hair flaming. A great visual, but now that I'm exposed, it will be a bit more difficult to rid the world of evil?
Magnolia...I thought those meetings were supposed to be confidential!! Now everyone knows about George...which really isn't so bad since half the female population in the world feels the same, but did you have to mention the lipless posters. Geez!!
Susan, thank you so much for not trying out for the part. I surely would be singing in some dive bar in Tokoyo now if you hadn't.
I can see now that I'm going to have to give away a prize at the end of the week. Can't let all this great writing go without reward.
The mortgage banker stared at me through turquoise-rimmed glasses, the kind favored by Cat-Woman.
"As I see it you have two choices."
"You mean pay, or default on my loan?" I asked shyly.
Linda Style stood up to close the door, then sat in the chair next to me. She took my hand in hers, as though we were old friends. Until then I had never seen eyes worthy of being compared to emeralds.
"Think of your options like this," she said pushing aside the notices that lay scattered across her desk.
"You can lie down, forget about this and move on, though of course the debt will follow you around for a while. Or," she took my shoulders and lifted me from the chair where the sun shone on my face, "you can get up. In the end, it's always about the journey. And you, my young friend, have just reached your first fork in the road."
It was in Paris, spring, April 22 to be exact. I’m an aspiring writer and was attending a conference in hopes of learning more about the craft. During the lunch break, I wandered out to the street looking for a place to eat. As I scanned the sidewalk, I caught a quick glimpse of her sitting with a group at an outdoor café. She was sipping a coffee, talking animatedly, her red hair gently teased by the warm breeze ... beautiful. I was smitten but I was also rather shy, reluctant to boldly introduce myself to women. So I passed on by, the glimpse stored longingly in my brain.
Later that day between sessions, I saw her and couldn’t believe my eyes. She was attending the conference, what an incredible coincidence! Someone introduced us. Her name was Linda and she was a celebrated romance writer. We fell into an easy and engaging conversation, so much so that I almost missed the next presentation ... but not before we agreed to meet for a drink that evening. It was a little place on the Boulevard Ste.-Germain. We talked the night away. The rest is, to coin a phrase, history. Thinking back to that night, I realized that’s when I had indeed found my voice.
Hi Sylvia. Thanks for stopping by to chat. That was a memorable meeting, for sure...and I bet you picked the right fork in the road. :-) I do believe that in the end, it's all about the journey.
CJ -- You've sparked so many memories...Paris...the most romantic city in the world, and I'm amazed... you even remembered the little cafe on the Blvd. Ste. Germaine. It was all so long ago. ::sigh:: I just hope my S.O. doesn't see this and get jealous. Yes, I would say you have indeed found your voice.
Oops...that wasn't anonymous...that was me. Bad fingers.
Well, you asked for it. I was going to keep this to myself.
I had just gotten to know Linda when I had a computer problem. I thought Linda was coming to my rescue when she offered to be the back-up for some of my files; but later she said she’d lost some of the work I’d stored with her. I didn’t think there was anything untoward when I asked her again to store more work as we again worked together a few days ago at a local coffee shop.
I know, I’ve gotten used to using the word again... and again. But really, again? Just because I asked you again to store a few of my essays on “style” and “voice” on your computer, is no excuse; I never thought you would take advantage of me, again! I’m not all that hacked-off that you took two of my essays and lifted the five important points I made on ‘style’ and the five important points from my essay on ‘voice’ and combined them into your own little ‘blog’ titled, “How to Find Your Writer’s Voice...”.
No, what really hacks me off is your intentionally leaving out point number ten! How could you? That was the most important point. When you steal a nobleman’s jewels, how can you live with yourself not showing off the crown of the crown jewels. I worked really hard to set up that tenth point to be the most poignant and beneficial. The tenth point literally ties up all the loose ends in that one point. But, no, you chose to keep it a secret; keep secret how any writer would know exactly, definitive where to find their writer’s voice at any moment. Well, now they’ll never know.
Thanks, Linda, it’s been great knowing you. I now have Carbonite, so I won’t ever need to store my work on your computer... again! That’s right, I said it again and I’m tired of saying, “And... Never Again”. Mmm, that sounds like a great book title!
Hello, Robert. I thought I'd seen the last of you when I reported you to the authorities, but clearly, you've either escaped from Happy Times Asylum or somehow managed to break in to the HTA administrative offices to use their computer and taunt me again.
So, as heartless as it may seem to you in your current, delusional state of mind, I'm going to have to report you to the authorities "again"...as well as warning others who may be in harm's way. Very soon, they guys in white will find you, and I hope I "never ever again" will have to read one of your delusional, stalkerish posts.
And...as a warning to others...if you just happen to meet a really handsome guy who seems overly nice and later wants to store his files on your computer... RUN!!
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