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My final (for now) posting about Voice can be found here.
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Filed under Voice
I know, I know…. Cliché , cliché, cliché! But sometimes the clichés best express exactly what we mean, which is the case for what I want to talk about today: honesty in voice. It’s the next installment of what I believe are the components of compelling voice in writing and character development.
You know how mothers can tell when their kids are lying, or at least hiding something? It doesn’t matter how many times little Suzie pinkie swears that she wasn’t in your make-up or little Joey cross-his-heart swears that the lamp busted all by itself, we know the truth! I think it’s the same with readers – they know instinctively when an author or character isn’t being real, when punches are pulled or words are minced. I think those omissions leave a reader with a sense of dissatisfaction, whether the reader can identify its source as “dishonesty” or not.
I’m not talking about those instances when you deliberately temper words, whether in action or dialog, cases where you don’t want to ramp up the emotion or pace. I’m talking about those instances when you’re afraid to write what you really want to write. When your internal editor (or the imagined sound of your spouse’s, mother’s or best friend’s scolding) cautions you to hold back, to use watered-down phrasing so your readers don’t come away feeling seasick from all the waves you’ve created. I’m talking about those times when you let the PC police tell you what to say and how to say it.
Here’s how I feel: There’s no place for political correctness in fiction writing. Don’t get me wrong. I am in no way advocating deliberate attacks on a person or groups of people (outside of the story plot, of course). What I am advocating is honesty in the story-telling process, and fearlessness to express truth, as the writer or character knows it. Again, it’s the writer’s job to know how and when to use those truths to achieve the story’s goals.
Some people probably wouldn’t consider honesty or fearlessness to be elements of voice, but to me, they are. To me, so much of voice is that unfiltered monolog running through your head, and letting it loose, in measured doses, to blend character into your writing. Because it’s that reality, the truth of the situation, that will resonate with readers.
Debut novelist Elvy Howard (Love on a Half Shell) shows an amazing skill for using honesty in voice. (Speaking of truth and honesty, full disclosure time: Edward Allen Publishing is releasing this book sometime in the early spring. Since one of the goals of this blog is to examine what we feel is solid writing, I think it’s acceptable to use one of our upcoming releases as a demonstration. The main reason I’m using this, however, is that it perfectly illustrates what I mean by “honesty” in voice.)
Love on a Half Shell is the story of a 30-something Rae Green who takes custody of her sister’s daughters, ages 5 and 12, and the struggles they go through to form a family. Rae is single and unencumbered by responsibility for any other living being when she’s called in the middle of the night to pick up these two girls whom she hasn’t seen in several years. The girls have a troubled background (thanks to a drug-addicted mother), so the three go through some rocky times.
At one point, the older girl (Torey) pulls a particularly stupid and dangerous stunt – as children often do. In this snippet, Rae is trying to recover after a period of paralyzing fear.
How could she do this? How could she put me, Melissa, and herself, through this? … I push numbers into the microwave and hit Start. I watch the plate begin to spin and try to figure out what I should do next. But the more I think, the angrier I get. I hate Torey in so many ways it overpowers me. I can’t fit that much anger in a sentence, and there’s nowhere to begin, so I leave and go to bed. …
I don’t turn on the light, just let my clothes drop to the floor, and get in bed. My entire body quivers with emotions I’m unable to decipher. Eventually I understand I’m suspended somewhere between rage and fear. I hadn’t been able to consider the possibility she might be dead.
Rae’s reaction is intense, the kind of intense that only comes from a foundation of deep emotion. It might have shocked you, but if you’re a parent (or acting as one), you might recognize these feelings. Of course Rae doesn’t hate Torey, but she does hate that Torey put her family through an ordeal, and in that instant, the feeling of hatred is too strong to be rationalized; it’s too strong to be anything but felt.
I think many authors would have been afraid to write that, afraid to admit that deep-down truth that for that brief blip in time, Rae actually did feel hatred toward someone she loves so much.
That’s what I mean by honesty in voice. I can feel what Rae is feeling, and I get it.
Here’s my message: Don’t be afraid to use your unique voice to tell the truth, to express emotions that we human beings all share. Not everyone will love your story, or your voice, but those universal truths will always be recognized.
Happy writing! Have a great week!
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After spending her life working with words in various roles in both government and the private sector, including a 10-year stint as a freelance line editor, lifelong grammar fanatic Leah Price is excited about putting her skills and knowledge to work as senior acquisitions editor for Edward Allen Publishing. She also writes commercial fiction under a pseudonym and knows how tough it is to get all the pieces in the story puzzle to fit, but she loves the journey.
Filed under Characters, Voice
“Humility is no substitute for a good personality.”
Fran Lebowitz
Happy first Monday of 2013!
Back in December, I wrote about my basic description of a writer’s voice. Today and for the next couple weeks I’d like to break that down into what I believe are the elements of a strong writer’s voice, beginning with what (in my opinion) is the most important element: personality.
The most grammatically perfect paragraph will leave most readers flat if there’s no personality, if it’s just dry text, because it’s missing the connection to humanity. What is personality, after all, but you, the individual? So what is voice, after all, but you, the writer?
What do I mean by that?
I mean the most elemental part of you that reacts to any given situation. Like…
When you’re sitting in a long line of bumper-to-bumper traffic in a construction zone, and a car goes shooting up the shoulder of the road, then scoots right in front of you as you’re easing your foot off the brake, hoping to move one lousy inch forward.
We all react differently to a single situation, depending on our personalities. Voice is “simply” a manifestation of personality. I use the word “simply,” but there’s nothing simple about voice. Maybe it would make more sense if I used the word style. We each have a unique style in dress, mannerisms, listening, speaking, and writing. Are you naturally a witty person who responds to stress by making a joke? Your writing voice probably reflects that. Are you a drama queen/king? I’ll bet your writing style has a dramatic flair to it. Even if you are you a quiet person whose thoughts are rarely on display, your writing style/voice might have that introspective quality.
Our personalities and style (I think) are good indicators of our innate and instinctive writing voices. It’s the writer’s job to take that voice and control it, use it, to build interesting sentences and scenes, and characters that will draw a reader into the story.
Sometimes it’s best to describe by example.
Superstar romance author Nora Roberts writes a series of futuristic police procedurals as J.D. Robb. (I know some of you aren’t fans of Roberts/Robb and are right now pooh-poohing me. If you want to write successfully in the commercial fiction market, however, I think it’s smart to study the people who are successful, and I don’t think anyone can argue with her success.)
Robb’s In Death series stars homicide detective Lieutenant Eve Dallas of the New York Police & Security Division and her planet-owning, gazillionare husband, Roarke. (I don’t know if that’s a first or last name, but it’s the only one he seems to have!) Every book highlights a different murder, usually with Dallas and Roarke collaborating and cohabitating very nicely, and over the course of the series (at current count, somewhere in the ballpark of 50 stories…wow!) readers get to know the two pretty well. Although they both have backgrounds that forced them to claw their way from poverty and depravity, and worse, they are polar opposites in many ways. Eve is a tough, no-nonsense city girl and has an inherent repulsion (and possibly fear) of nature and the outdoors. Roarke grew up on the mean streets of Dublin yet seems to have retained an Irishman’s love of all that is green.
Here’s the opening of Robb’s Indulgence in Death (2010, G.P. Putnam’s Sons). Dallas and Roarke are off on a much-deserved vacation in Ireland, when Dallas spots some of the indigenous “wildlife.” (We’re in Dallas’ POV, in her head.)
The road was a killer, hardly wider than a decent stream of spit and snaking like a cobra between giant bushes loaded with strange flowers that resembled drops of blood.
She had to remind herself that the trip had been her idea – love was another killer – but how could she have known driving in western Ireland meant risking life and limb at every curve?
Rural Ireland, she thought, holding her breath as they zipped around the next turn on the Journey of Death. Where the towns were barely a hiccup on the landscape, and where she was pretty damn sure the cows outnumbered the people. And the sheep outnumbered the cows.
And why didn’t that cause anyone concern? she wondered. Didn’t people consider what could happen if armies of farm animals united in revolt?
As a homicide detective, Dallas sees horrific murder and the worst of humanity played out on the city streets, but the sight of a few cows and sheep makes her more than nervous. (That’s a great character trait, by the way, but a discussion for another day.) Do you see how Robb used the character’s experience and personality – phrases like “strange flowers that resembled drops of blood” and “journey of death” – to convey her emotions that are unique to her? This to me is a perfect example of a character’s voice, or personality.
Of course Roberts/Robb has her own writer’s voice, and that too is reflected in the tightly crafted, packed-with-punch wording. I often sense a dry wit in her writing as well, and at times I can hear her real (audible) voice in my head as I’m reading.
So many of us have learned (been taught) to harness our emotions in our public lives. In writing, depending on your character, your scene, and your goals for both, you need to find those emotions. That’s you and your character talking. That’s voice. Use it.
Whatever is going on in your book, put yourself /your character in that situation, dig down into the deepest and innermost emotions, and let your fingers fly. I’m not saying every sentence and every scene has to be packed with gut-wrenching emotion. That would be too much…waaaay too much. I’m saying to unleash those emotions and let your (and your character’s) voice out – let your styles shine. Let your personalities speak.
With practice, you can learn to incorporate your unique “humanity” into your writing to give your readers characters that feel real, and a meatier, more interesting story.
Happy writing, all!
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After spending her life working with words in various roles in both government and the private sector, including a 10-year stint as a freelance line editor, lifelong grammar fanatic Leah Price is excited about putting her skills and knowledge to work as senior acquisitions editor for Edward Allen Publishing. She also writes commercial fiction under a pseudonym and knows how tough it is to get all the pieces in the story puzzle to fit, but she loves the journey.
Filed under Voice
Recently I saw a video by a comedian who was poking some fun at the Christmas carol “Do You Hear What I Hear.” The comedian joked about the impossibility of the lyrics – like the second stanza: “Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy” – at which point he demonstrated his view of what the lamb “talking” to the little boy would sound like. He baaaah’d, and he sang the lyrics in various tones, depending on the verse. It was pretty funny, and I would probably stick a link in here except that that’s not what this blog is about.
This blog is about writing, for writers, and about giving writers tools and examples of what we believe is solid, compelling writing and story-telling. But it struck me as I watched the video that he was giving a great demonstration of “voice,” that elusive quality that, to a writer, is one of the most influential means of capturing a reader’s interest. What good is a great plot if the reader doesn’t want to keep reading? That’s voice.
That’s a big topic for this time of year, a time when most of you won’t have much of that commodity (time) to read about voice, or probably much else, so I’ll try to keep this brief (for me!) and tackle just my definition of “voice” for now.
I always think of singers first when I hear the word “voice,” but I think you can make a solid comparison between a singer’s voice and writer’s voice. You know how some singers just grab you with the tone of their voice, like you could hear them singing the phone book and you’d stop and listen? Likewise, when you hear someone singing in a voice that isn’t to your liking, it doesn’t take you long to shut it off (or scream, “Stop the torture!”), right?
Don’t you find the same thing when you’re reading? I do. I can read just a few pages of anything (a book, an article) and know whether or not I like that writer’s style, or voice. It’s something in the way he or she puts the words together that makes me laugh or cry, or makes shivers travel up and down my spine. It’s flow and pacing, it’s word choice, and above all, it’s personality, whether it’s the author narrative or a character speaking.
I’m not a great singer and have never studied vocals, but I’m pretty sure that some people are born with a natural voice that others want to listen to. Others learn to develop a singing voice; they learn to stretch their range and bring richness to their tone.
It’s the same with writers. Some hear a story in their minds (in continually flowing words that don’t want to stop…ever). They hear not just the words, but a rhythm, a cadence, and they’re able to transfer the shouting in their heads to paper (or screen…whatever) with relative ease. Others are more visual and might see a story rather than hear it, and I think they find it more difficult to give “flesh” to those stories, to find the right words. But I also believe they have the ability to develop a voice that others will want to read.
Over the next few weeks, I’ll try to dig down a little into the elements of voice. In the meantime, I’d love to hear from you. What is your definition of voice?
Happy writing!
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After spending her life working with words in various roles in both government and the private sector, including a 10-year stint as a freelance line editor, lifelong grammar fanatic Leah Price is excited about putting her skills and knowledge to work in the publishing industry as senior editor for Edward Allen Publishing. She also writes commercial fiction under a pseudonym and knows how tough it is to get all the pieces in the story puzzle to fit, but she loves the journey.
Filed under Voice
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