Blogger: Rachelle Gardner
It seems like whenever agents or editors are asked what they’re looking for in new books, they always say, “I’m looking for a unique voice.” Or a “fresh voice.” Or just, “voice.” What does this mean? What do editors mean when they say it’s the writer’s voice that captures them—or doesn’t?
Let’s start by identifying a few things voice isn’t. Voice is not style. It’s not technique. It’s not branding. It’s not a decision to write in first or third person.
Here’s my view of what voice is:
Your writer’s voice is the expression of YOU on the page. It’s that simple—and that complicated. Your voice is all about honesty. It’s the unfettered, non-derivative, unique conglomeration of your thoughts, feelings, passions, dreams, beliefs, fears and attitudes, coming through in every word you write.
Voice is all about your originality and having the courage to express it.
Sounds simple, right? Then why is voice so hard? One of the most common problems with fiction by new authors is the lack of a unique voice on the page. How is this possible? You are unique. You can’t help it, you just are. You aren’t exactly like anyone else. Why doesn’t that get expressed on the page?
I think it’s because most of us spend our lives presenting to the world anything and everything except who we really are. We present images of who we want to be. We show the world what we want them to see. We expend lots of energy upholding our facades, and in the process, we can lose touch with our true, unique selves. Many of us are afraid of real, total, gut-wrenching honesty.
I think another problem is that we’ve been media consumers since the day we were born. When I read fiction that doesn’t have a “voice” that captures me, it usually feels derivative, i.e. similar to other works of fiction, rather than striking me as fresh and coming from life. Instead of truly creating stories and characters of your own, you may be unwittingly regurgitating stories and characters you’ve read and seen in thousands of hours of reading and TV/movie watching in your life. This means you are not being your unique self, but a composite of many other selves who are not you. Admittedly, it’s a big hurdle for all of us to overcome.
So how do you find your voice? You can’t learn it. You can’t copy it. Voice isn’t a matter of studying. You have to find it. And the only place to find it is within you.
It’s a process of peeling away the layers of your false self, your trying-to-be-something-you’re-not self, your copycat self, your trying-to-sound-a-certain-way self, your spent-my-life-watching-television self. It’s like going to psychotherapy, delving deep and allowing the real you to emerge, only in this case you want it to find its way on to the page.
How, exactly do you do that? By writing, of course. Writing, revising, getting feedback, and writing some more. This is the way you excavate, uncover, discover and develop your writer’s voice.
So tell me:
What are some ways to find your unique writer’s voice?
Image copyright: amaviael / 123RF Stock Photo
GREAT post, Rachelle! This is a question I’ve thought about for a long time…and, really, every time I write.
* First, I think that all successful voices are derivative, in that they remind us of something loved and ‘missed’…in the way that the ‘voice’ of a particularly beautiful landscape calls us to a longing for something we know, but may not be able to identify.
* If you look at the voice of Richard Bach, which came to focus in ‘Jonathan Livingston Seagull’ and attained a jeweled perfection in “Illusions”, you’ll find the echoes of Nevil Shute and Ray Bradbury.
* Not a bad thing, and the underpinnings of voice are vital, because they ensure both a literary and spiritual continuity; we cannot, after all, divorce that which we say from the manner in which we choose to say it. It’s not something as puerile as “in the tradition of”; the derivative voice is homage; honour, respect, and love.
* My voice is a melding of Bach, and Shute, Herman Wouk and Robert Ruark, with some Susan Howatch thrown in. I made a point of studying that which I admired in their writing, but do not consciously ape them. I’m grateful for their influence, and hope that those who may enjoy these disparate voices may also enjoy mine.
And if anyone’s interested…
* Bach and Shute for character dialogue
* Shute, Wouk and Ruark for ‘descriptive dialogue’
* Shute and Ruark for description
* Ruark and Wouk for characterization
* Howatch and Wouk for plotting and pace
* Shute, Bach, and Howatch for connecting the temporal to the Eternal
I read Illusions some months back and the voice sounds something like another author I know.
BTW, how do you find time to read this much?
Michael, I have always carried a book with me, wherever I went…it’s surprising how much you can read while waiting for other things to happen!
Good point, Andrew. I suppose you could say that all artistic expression is a melding of everything the artist ever read or viewed or experienced, viewed and expressed through their own lens.
Rachelle, your description of voice as an expression of your own personality developed by writing, revising, getting feedback, and writing some more resonates with me. I spent many years in a male-dominated career. As a woman working comfortably in a male environment with many male friends, it became very natural for me to use either masculine or feminine communication styles (and they are very different), depending on the person with whom I’m speaking. When I learned (from Genesis judges) that I needed to shift from omniscient narrator to limited 3rd person POV, I started rewriting my manuscripts by labeling the dominant POV for each scene. What did I discover? My romantic historicals were from the POV of both male and female characters, but they were more from the POV of the male characters than the female. My men act and sound like real men as much as my women are like real women. I’ve been reading many romantic historicals and historical romances the past two years, and that seems to be fairly distinctive.
Here’s my test: when I read it aloud, does it sound like me?
To clarify: When I read out loud, a stilted section or flow change sounds wrong. I miss it by eye, but catch it by ear.
I’m not published, and I don’t ask my family to read my stories so I’ll stay grounded and not be given false hope. But now I think maybe I should ask them to read my stories and see if they hear my voice.
Thanks for sharing this hopeful post.
I’m going to respectfully disagree, Rachelle. It’s precisely that sort of answer (It’s YOU on the page) that I always found vague frustrating when listening to editors and agents on this subject. They all said they wanted a “fresh voice” but could never define it, or offer helpful instruction on attaining it.
I think there is a way to define it and a way to teach it, too. Brief definition:
CHARACTER filtered through AUTHOR, and rendered with craft on the PAGE = VOICE
The three need to work in concert. There should be a symbiosis between character and author, and just as crucial a rendering on the page that takes both into account. There are techniques for teaching all this, too. There are ways to do what you suggest (peeling away) but in ways that are organic to the story you’re trying to tell.
Jim, I’d love to know, have you written anything about this? I’d be interested in reading it, if you have. 🙂
Jeanne, here’s a blog post about it.
If the link isn’t working, try this:
https://killzoneblog.com/2015/10/the-secret-power-of-voice.html
Thanks, Jim. I’m checking them out.
I really like your definition! Since my plots have varying levels of thriller in them with either seriously disturbed characters or sane-but-evil ones, I’d better hope they aren’t revealing aspects of the true me! Thanks for the blog link. Now I have the first book to test my new Kindle to see if it really has a 14-hr battery life as we drive 700 miles each way to a Texas wedding.
James, I found the examples you gave in your book about voice helpful. I’m learning to take chances and be brave on my own blog rather than sound safe, generic, and not me. Thanks for writing in a way newbies can understand.
Jim, I’ve found your recent book on voice to be helpful for the very reason that it marries the author voice with the character voice. One commenter referenced the deep third person point of view. That should definitely have the unique “sound” of the character, though it is still the author who’s “thoughts, feelings, passions, dreams, beliefs, fears and attitudes” affect the formation of the character.
One other reason I think it’s hard for authors to find their voice–writing instruction often seems to strip away the uniqueness. We’re told to write tight, to use close third person, to avoid adverbs, to do a variety of other things, and we all slavishly revise our manuscripts accordingly, until we all sound alike.
Along comes someone writing in first person, present, for example, and it sounds so fresh, so original–until about the hundredth novel from authors who jump on the bandwagon.
In short, I think there’s a balance between writing to today’s expectations of good prose and writing in a way that reveals the author/character personality.
Becky
Rachelle, this is one of the best posts I’ve read on discovering your voice. I loved how you described peeling away the layers of your false self. I’ve been working on this.
*I’ve found that when I feel passionately about something, or when something moves me deeply and I write about it, my voice comes out (at least according to a few people). I am still figuring out ho to write authentically this way consistently.
*I also wonder if being able to tap into emotions helps us find our voice?
I think so, Jeanne. I agree with you on the passion. It so helps to have that experience … or at least to emotionally put yourself there. Consistently … yes, yes …
I’ve been watching American Idol this season, and just this last week, I was reminded about what an agent must go through. Within the top ten contestants, there are two clear winners to me, if I were picking the winner. If I were a producer and trying to select someone I wanted to work with, to build their career. They all have unique voices and good voices … but two, in my eyes and ears, are clearly the best. They are strong, make me sit up straighter, give me goose bumps, make me want to clap …. All the others are good/great, but when you are looking for a needle in a haystack, something about you needs to be attractive to gain attention over the others. That can be learned, but sometimes, that’s just a God-given gift. And maybe sometimes it’s just finding what we have to put forward, to pull from deep within, to offer … you are right … maybe it’s something we tuck deep within … something unique about us that we don’t know will appeal to others … until we offer it up. I don’t know any answers here, but you’ve certainly gotten me thinking on it …. I certainly desire a unique voice. I’m eager to hear all the thoughts on this today. 🙂
And I love that on AI, they’ll say, “It’s all about the song choice.” True … it is for most. But the really great ones can do awesome things with anything. But maybe it’s about finding/choosing that perfect story that’s perfect for you. We all have favorite authors … and some of their stories are my favorite and some aren’t … just opinionated. But I know for the contestants on American Idol … I’ll find myself saying, “I can’t believe they chose that song.” And the judges will try to guide them … you should have chose this … that fits you better. Sometimes the judges know them better than they know themselves, it seems. Maybe the same holds true for writers, until we can clearly see ourselves ….
Rachelle,
Thanks for sharing this helpful post. I have found that critique partners will sometimes say “I think it should say ____” . So then I change it, but every time I reread and edit that sentence – it just isn’t me. The sentence will stand out as not fitting in.
I have learned to rewrite the section, but using my own words and voice.
A fresh and great insight on voice, Rachelle. I think about this a lot, at the same time not thinking about it. I find if I pay too much attention to the voice, it starts to be forced, or as you say, derivative.
It really is about that honesty – almost a spiralling down into those vulnerable parts of you – the ones that say, this is how I see the world. Even though I am putting this through my characters, when I the most true to them, my vision will come through. Not as authorial intrusion, but something that is real. When it happens it’s exhilarating. And it seems like it only comes out of just putting more words on pages. Thinking but not thinking.
Trying to pin down “writer’s voice” has often reminded me of my children coming up empty-handed in the greased-pig race at the rodeo. The concept slips right through my fingers. Over time, I’ve sensed my voice changing. Maturing? Often it varies depending upon my audience. I don’t necessarily use the same voice when writing devotional material that I use in my newspaper column or when writing an historical romance. But I like your definition of voice and what it’s not. Guess I’ll just keep running after the pig.
What a concise summary, Rachelle. This will undoubtedly clear up many people’s misunderstandings.
Some years ago I was just beginning to grasp the concept of voice when at a writer’s conference a workshop leader read opening paragraphs the class had submitted. After reading mine, the instructor commented, “This writer decided not to use voice.” I thought, “What? How can any writer not use voice?” I assume she had a different definition in mind.
Thank you for this post! I love how you identified what voice isn’t and then described voice as a writer’s honesty, passion, thoughts, etc. I feel so much better knowing voice is about originality and the courage to express it.
*For me, the voice I bring to the page is a reflection of the way I hear my character’s speak in my mind. I see each scene as if it were playing out like a movie; I hear dialect and nuances that make each character different enough to stand apart. Sometimes this can be difficult to capture if all your characters happen to be from the same neck of the woods. Reading out loud usually helps detect where I need to make a change.
*I think it boils down to letting myself become each person in the story. Until I actually live who they are in the moment, I can’t write where they need to go.
This…! This puts a name on the thing with which I’ve been struggling! Seems like for months, when I write, I’m just going through the motions. Makes the fruits of my labor so wooden, plain and unoriginal…because it’s not me. I might implement daily quiet reflection time leading up to writing time. Maybe it’ll help me to shake off all that is not me and rediscover who I really am. I knew a youth pastor who encouraged his group of kids to take time to just “be”. Can be a challenge in this society!
Very thought provoking piece, but I think that publishers (and by extension, agents) speak with forked tongues on this subject of “fresh and unique voice.” Now everyone is familiar with Christ’s admonition of “not putting new wine in old wineskins,” but even so, they’re looking for something radically new that’s guaranteed to sell. It’s why Hollywood makes so many movies with “II” and “III” at the end of the title. It’s all right; we writers understand. We are, after all, snake oil salesmen in our brain stems.
Was it Sol Stein who said that voice is writing that sentence in a way that only you can write it? I think my voice became stronger when I stopped trying to write the “perfect” book and looked back to find the time in my life that I had the most fun with what I wrote. I was 13 and paced back and forth in front of the word processor telling a story while my bosom buddy, Emrys typed like crazy. Fabulous tales such as “The Soapy Sudsy Sewer Search” and “Attack of the Killer Hippies” were born from those lunch recess writing sessions. I went back and read them and then I wrote again, with all that I had learned, yes, but also with that enthusiastic 13-year-old girl in mind. Picture that piece that gave you the most pleasure in writing. What was it about that story that thrilled you?
Rachelle, your topic today caught my eye (I’m supposed to be cleaning my house for company–but my visitor is a writer and she’ll understand…). I’m enjoying reading memoirs lately and have noticed it’s voice more than anything that holds my attention.
As a mystery writer who also wants to publish memoir, I’m listening closely to anything I hear about voice.
I think blogging and journal writing are helping me find mine. When I write about something that makes my heart pound from enthusiasm, fear or pathos, my voice shows up.
Now I get why we must write what we love. Passion pulls our uniqueness up from the depths of self-consciousness. We’re unveiled and real before our audience. Thanks for the reminder.
Blessings ~ Wendy Mac
Rachelle, Voice is hard to define, but (with respect to Jim Bell and other dissenters), I have to agree that it’s sort of the way the writer comes through. I’ve written about this before when talking about “What if someone steals my idea?” You can give three writers the same scene, and they’ll write it three different ways (often with three different outcomes). The difference? Their voice.
Oh, and one of the things I had to work hard to overcome when responding to edits is the tendency of some editors (few, thankfully) to replace my voice in my writing with their own.
Thanks for sharing.
This is absolutely the best explanation of voice I have ever read. It makes perfect sense. And I love the part about peeling away the layers to find the real you. What a great read.
It may be a magical event that emerges much like the Satori Awakening. For me, it occurred after having written, and edited, novels and short stories until my eyes and fingers bled. Maybe I should have that checked out.
I’m certain that a large part of it comes from getting high quality, intensely critical, yet supportive, feedback. That’s what worked for me.
So is the definition of voice different if it’s non-fiction vs. fiction?