It
takes a great deal of experience to become natural.
—Willa
Cather
As
a writer, I want to be able to write anything, from any point of
view, with varying voices. So why do I worry about my
voice if I must immerse myself in my
characters'
voices?
Speaking loudly doesn't ensure your voice will be heard. (Image courtesy of: Darwin Bell on flickr) |
The
importance of a writer's voice could be explained like this:
You
read a book and can see that it is skillfully written. It has an
interesting plot, strong imagery, likable characters, and all that.
Yet it is still, somehow, unfulfilling.
The
story is probably lacking the writer's voice.
Yeah,
the characters have voices, there is a distinguishable style, and you
might even say the writing is beautiful—but something is missing
and it's difficult to identify.
So
what is a writer's voice?
Voice
is often subconscious—but you have to have some
introspection to know yourself enough to let the subconscious go,
to let it speak with you clearly behind it.
How
do words sound to you as you read them aloud? This is not
just a proofreading trick. When you read aloud, you hear your story,
your narration. You feel it. You know what feels unnatural as you
speak it. You know what sounds odd or off when you hear it. When you
speak or hear your work, you get a sense of those points when you are
not really saying what you want to say.
No
joke... When I am revising, I read the whole thing aloud. If I
stumble on a word or phrase—even slightly—I know something is
wrong and that scene needs to be revised. Until I can read the entire scene
or chapter without a stumble, it's not done.
Your
style might change from one project to the next but if you speak it, and
don't stumble, you will continue to use words that are in your
wheelhouse. Even if you introduce new words to your vocabulary,
you'll rewrite the sentences and paragraphs so the new ones fit with
your flow.
Part
of your voice is your rhythm, cadence, sound. You have to hear
that.
Another
part of your voice is your world view. This means that your
characters and plot will echo what you believe, to a degree, even if
they disagree with it, even if their world view is not the same as
yours. If their world view is different, they will be affected by
yours, or they collectively will say something about your world view.
Remember,
this is your subconscious working, so don't go thinking about this as
you write. You have to let go to allow it to develop on it's own. And
how do you let go? You connect.
Seems
counter-intuitive, huh?
The
voice is the element over which you have no control; it's the sound
of the person behind the work.
—John
Hersey
The
fact is that you must be intrinsically connected to the work.
It has to be something you feel, something deep inside you, something
you must express.
Please
don't confuse this with desperation. If you must express something to
be successful, to prove you are a writer, to write the next
best-seller, or to be marketed and sold to a movie production
company, then you are not connected. You might be obsessed, but it's
not the same thing.
If
it's connected to something in your life and people tell you they
want to hear about it and you're not so sure about it, then maybe you
don't need to tell it. Or maybe you
need to get self-centered. Get in touch with your emotions and
your thoughts on it. What is it really
about?
You
have to write the story that is clawing
itself out of you. When you do that, you are much closer
to connecting. Don't suppress it or try to change it while you are
working on your first draft. Just experience the story and ask
questions of yourself when your feelings of it begin to wane.
What
does voice look like on the page?
- Voice shows up in the details the author notices.
- It sneaks its way in with images that hold primal meaning for the writer.
- The life events that continue to stick in the writer's mind, events that she turns over and over throughout her life, might echo in the scenes and events within the story.
- In turn, the way the author interprets the events she witnessed or experienced can affect the protagonist's or narrator's interpretation.
- Even the order in which the events the story is told reveal the author's voice.
- Rhythm, cadence, sound, syntax—a writer's sense of poetics reveals the writer, in a less explicit way.
- The humor and wit of the author are part of her voice. What is taken seriously? What is somber?
Where
does the elusive “voice” come from?
You
know how I'm always asking questions in my posts? I do this because
finding your voice is about being truthful, vulnerable, unflinching,
but also compassionate. When you are honest with yourself, you are more
able to connect with your characters. I swear, you will only
connect with your characters superficially until you can embrace the
truth about yourself.
The
way I look for truth is by asking questions about:
- my flaws and weaknesses and where they stem from
- the things I fight—and why I fight them
- the ideas I wrestle with, the ones that keep returning to me or that I can't get out of my head
- my emotions, my sadness and joy, my anger, the walls I put up to protect myself, how I protect my emotions and where I allow myself to get hurt, how I bounce back, where I'm resilient
- what is confusing
- what is funny, where humor arises for me
- what fascinates me and why
- where I see beauty and what is so beautiful about it for me
These
can all play a part in forming a writer's voice. Certainly, the list
isn't all-inclusive. Add to it. Once you begin considering these
things, you'll find that you have others to consider.
I'm
not suggesting you to run through these questions on a worksheet and
then you'll magically have a voice. Nor am I asking you to lock
yourself in a room so you can wallow in self-pity. That would suck
and I don't want to spend time with people who sit around and cry all
the time. Gawd... get over yourself, chiquita...
Further,
I don't want to be blamed for encouraging it.
What you need to do is write. As you write, you work
through these things. You have them in the back of your mind.
This,
I think, is part of the reason that, when I went through my MFA,
there was no attempt to talk about writing novels. The professors
seemed to pretty much assume we were not ready for such things—we
were all too green for that. (I kind of thought, as the time, that
the professors just perceived us as the worms of writing who were
unworthy of novels and were only good for pitting against each other
to create competitive writing dramas for them to watch unfold in the
workshops.)
But
the reality is that if you haven't written enough fiction then you
have not yet explored enough to have a voice that can make a novel
compelling. (And yes, it should be fiction because fiction is an
entirely different form than any other kind of writing. Journaling,
writing your blog, writing articles for a food website, none of these
really help in finding the voice you use in writing a novel.) Sure,
you might have a great concept for a novel and you might be
expressive and crafty and create great images, but if you lack voice,
you won't resonate with anyone. If you lack voice, readers aren't
going to stick with your 500-page tome all the way through.
Here's
another downer:
You
can't just sit around writing story after story without contemplating
the above items. If you are going to keep your emotional walls up
while you write, you'll just be writing a bunch of tin cans that
clatter together and roll off the counter when the damned cat gets up
there.
I
speak from experience. I speak from being poetic and crafty and witty
and all kinds of other supposed compliments that I got. Were they
compliments? I don't know. I was protecting myself so well that I
don't know if I would have recognized veiled criticism. As I read my
writing from 15 and 20 years ago now, all I see is self-protection.
All I see is someone who thought she was getting deep into her
characters, but was mortally afraid of knowing what was really there.
You
can't write emptily. You must strive for truth.
And
don't tell me fiction is about telling lies. If you think that,
you're deluded. Fiction is often more true than any real story. How?
It's about an emotional truth—even if the story is entirely
made up. It's about getting to something real that speaks to people.
If there isn't truth in it, it will speak like a drunk dude at
the office party. Nothing valuable to say, but maybe interesting to
watch in case a disaster ensues and breaks up the
monotony. Do you want to be the drunk guy who vomits in the lobby?
Awesome! So well said!!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for reading, David!
DeleteGreat piece, Robin. This is at least a 3-part post or possibly an entire writing course.
ReplyDeleteIt's true! This was longer and I cut it down... Look for a future post with exercises to help the discovery of voice...
DeleteWe're at Altitude tonight if you want to come over, Lynda!
You can't write emptily. You must strive for truth. <-- This. Drives home.
ReplyDeleteIt is important, but then I think... Do we know when we are writing emptily? Sometimes we *think* we are doing all this work, but we still lie to ourselves. I guess we only know when we get there...
DeleteThanks for reading, SuperLux!