Be a Better Writer--VOICE (PART 1)
Posted: Sat Aug 01, 2015 9:14 am
Imagine, please, that you are on vacation with about a dozen people who you know well. Maybe they’re your extended family, or maybe a bunch of old friends from school who get together every year. You wake up early one morning and find a note on the table—one of your party has taken off for a few days. The note has isn’t signed, and it doesn’t contain any specific details. Nevertheless, you’re certain you know who wrote it.
How did you know who wrote the note?
It’s because the note sounded just like her. You know the kinds of words your friend uses, and the way she puts them together. The note had your friend’s voice.
Kate might have written something like: So sorry. Lots on my mind. Y’all laughing together is hard on me. Because, well, you know. Taking off for a few days. Not to worry. Back soon.
While Addison might have written: Sweeties, I have to apologize; I’ve been abominable to each of you. Dwelling on the past has affected my usual enjoyment of our time together. Give me a few days to ruminate, and please don’t fret. I’ll return as soon as I’m tolerable again.
And Louise’s note might have read like this: Dang, homies! Give a girl a break! Didya ever stop to think some of us might not be feeling so chipper? And by ‘some of us,’ I mean ME! I’m outta here! Just keep on without me! I see that look on your face. Get your I’m sorry on, I’ll be back Tuesday. Save a dozen cookies for me (I’m talking to YOU)!
All three of those ladies said essentially the same thing—I’m leaving, you know why (something in the past), don’t worry, I’ll be back. But they each had a distinct voice, and this is a good place for a definition.
A writer’s voice is a combination of attributes that make her writing distinctive and recognizable. These may include her use of punctuation, favored sentence formations and syntax, word choice and vocabulary, and use of figurative language. Voice may also include, to some extent, common themes in a writer’s works, and mood (somber, brash, or light, for example).There are other items that make up a writer’s voice, but the end result is, ideally, something that communicates the story (or the content) in a way that is both effective and unique.
That might be enough for you to mull over for now. I’ll end with excerpts from a few authors who have distinctive voices. For each one, I’ll give you a brief description of their voice and a representative sample of their work.
Look online for any discussion of voice, and you’re sure to see Hemingway listed. He used simple words (many of only one syllable) and lots of long, almost run-on sentences. Here’s an example, from “A Movable Feast.”
Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. I was tired of rum St. James without thinking about it. Then the story was finished and I was very tired. I read the last paragraph and then I looked up and looked for the girl and she had gone. I hope she's gone with a good man, I thought. But I felt sad.
***
The works of Sylvia Plath are sometimes described as ‘stream of consciousness.’ Here’s an example from “The Bell Jar.”
I tried to imagine what it would be like if Constantin were my husband.
It would mean getting up at seven and cooking him eggs and bacon and toast and coffee and dawdling about in my nightgown and curlers after he'd left for work to wash up the dirty plates and make the bed, and then when he came home after a lively, fascinating day he'd expect a big dinner, and I'd spend the evening washing up even more dirty plates till I fell into bed, utterly exhausted.
This seemed like a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.
Once when I visited Buddy I found Mrs. Willard braiding a rug out of strips of wool from Mr. Willard's old suits. She'd spent weeks on that rug, and I had admired the tweedy browns and greens and blues patterning the braid, but after Mrs. Willard was through, instead of hanging the rug on the wall the way I would have done, she put it down in place of her kitchen mat, and in a few days it was soiled and dull and indistinguishable from any mat you could buy for under a dollar in the five and ten.
***
The British author P. G. Wodehouse used precise, humorous vocabulary (including an abundance of adverbs) and dry humor, as seen in this excerpt from “The Indiscretions of Archie.”
Mrs. Archie Moffam, nee Lucille Brewster, was small and slender. She had a little animated face, set in a cloud of dark hair. She was so altogether perfect that Archie had frequently found himself compelled to take the marriage-certificate out of his inside pocket and study it furtively, to make himself realise that this miracle of good fortune had actually happened to him.
"Honestly, old bean-I mean, dear old thing,--I mean, darling," said Archie, "I can't believe it!"
"What?"
"What I mean is, I can't understand why you should have married a blighter like me."
Lucille's eyes opened. She squeezed his hand. "Why, you're the most wonderful thing in the world, precious!--Surely you know that?"
"Absolutely escaped my notice. Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! You wonder-child! Nobody could see you without loving you!"
Archie heaved an ecstatic sigh. Then a thought crossed his mind. It was a thought which frequently came to mar his bliss.
***
Finally, contemporary Christian writer Lisa Samson is known for her un-tagged dialog. I’ve read several of her books, and I don’t believe there’s a “he said” or a “she said” in any of them. Here’s a bit from “The Passion of Mary-Margaret.”
I picked up the pepper shaker. “Isn’t this a little overkill? Out here and all?”
Hattie filled the kettle at the kitchen sink. The rainwater collected in a large cistern at the side of the building. “People keep giving lighthouse items to me. Can you imagine doing the same thing for a person living in a two-story colonial or a rancher?”
“No.” I folded my hands. “So. How’s everything been out here?”
She rested a surprisingly well-manicured hand on her broad hip. You just never knew with Hattie. “A calm year. Mild winter. Not much ice damage. No rescues. Good, I’d say.”
***
And that’s enough for your introduction, except to point out to you (if you haven’t noticed it already) that sometimes a writer’s voice is determined by the way in which she breaks (or bends) the rules. You might want to think about that for a bit.
HOMEWORK:
Please add to the discussion! I’d love any examples you might have of writers with distinct voices. Feel free to post a small, representative excerpt here, along with your thoughts about what characterizes that writer’s voice.
Do you have comments about voice? I’d love to hear them.
Questions about voice? Please let me know; I’ll try to address them in the next few lessons.
Be a Better Writer - Voice Part 2
Be a Better Writer - Voice Part 3
How did you know who wrote the note?
It’s because the note sounded just like her. You know the kinds of words your friend uses, and the way she puts them together. The note had your friend’s voice.
Kate might have written something like: So sorry. Lots on my mind. Y’all laughing together is hard on me. Because, well, you know. Taking off for a few days. Not to worry. Back soon.
While Addison might have written: Sweeties, I have to apologize; I’ve been abominable to each of you. Dwelling on the past has affected my usual enjoyment of our time together. Give me a few days to ruminate, and please don’t fret. I’ll return as soon as I’m tolerable again.
And Louise’s note might have read like this: Dang, homies! Give a girl a break! Didya ever stop to think some of us might not be feeling so chipper? And by ‘some of us,’ I mean ME! I’m outta here! Just keep on without me! I see that look on your face. Get your I’m sorry on, I’ll be back Tuesday. Save a dozen cookies for me (I’m talking to YOU)!
All three of those ladies said essentially the same thing—I’m leaving, you know why (something in the past), don’t worry, I’ll be back. But they each had a distinct voice, and this is a good place for a definition.
A writer’s voice is a combination of attributes that make her writing distinctive and recognizable. These may include her use of punctuation, favored sentence formations and syntax, word choice and vocabulary, and use of figurative language. Voice may also include, to some extent, common themes in a writer’s works, and mood (somber, brash, or light, for example).There are other items that make up a writer’s voice, but the end result is, ideally, something that communicates the story (or the content) in a way that is both effective and unique.
That might be enough for you to mull over for now. I’ll end with excerpts from a few authors who have distinctive voices. For each one, I’ll give you a brief description of their voice and a representative sample of their work.
Look online for any discussion of voice, and you’re sure to see Hemingway listed. He used simple words (many of only one syllable) and lots of long, almost run-on sentences. Here’s an example, from “A Movable Feast.”
Then I went back to writing and I entered far into the story and was lost in it. I was writing it now and it was not writing itself and I did not look up nor know anything about the time nor think where I was nor order any more rum St. James. I was tired of rum St. James without thinking about it. Then the story was finished and I was very tired. I read the last paragraph and then I looked up and looked for the girl and she had gone. I hope she's gone with a good man, I thought. But I felt sad.
***
The works of Sylvia Plath are sometimes described as ‘stream of consciousness.’ Here’s an example from “The Bell Jar.”
I tried to imagine what it would be like if Constantin were my husband.
It would mean getting up at seven and cooking him eggs and bacon and toast and coffee and dawdling about in my nightgown and curlers after he'd left for work to wash up the dirty plates and make the bed, and then when he came home after a lively, fascinating day he'd expect a big dinner, and I'd spend the evening washing up even more dirty plates till I fell into bed, utterly exhausted.
This seemed like a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.
Once when I visited Buddy I found Mrs. Willard braiding a rug out of strips of wool from Mr. Willard's old suits. She'd spent weeks on that rug, and I had admired the tweedy browns and greens and blues patterning the braid, but after Mrs. Willard was through, instead of hanging the rug on the wall the way I would have done, she put it down in place of her kitchen mat, and in a few days it was soiled and dull and indistinguishable from any mat you could buy for under a dollar in the five and ten.
***
The British author P. G. Wodehouse used precise, humorous vocabulary (including an abundance of adverbs) and dry humor, as seen in this excerpt from “The Indiscretions of Archie.”
Mrs. Archie Moffam, nee Lucille Brewster, was small and slender. She had a little animated face, set in a cloud of dark hair. She was so altogether perfect that Archie had frequently found himself compelled to take the marriage-certificate out of his inside pocket and study it furtively, to make himself realise that this miracle of good fortune had actually happened to him.
"Honestly, old bean-I mean, dear old thing,--I mean, darling," said Archie, "I can't believe it!"
"What?"
"What I mean is, I can't understand why you should have married a blighter like me."
Lucille's eyes opened. She squeezed his hand. "Why, you're the most wonderful thing in the world, precious!--Surely you know that?"
"Absolutely escaped my notice. Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! You wonder-child! Nobody could see you without loving you!"
Archie heaved an ecstatic sigh. Then a thought crossed his mind. It was a thought which frequently came to mar his bliss.
***
Finally, contemporary Christian writer Lisa Samson is known for her un-tagged dialog. I’ve read several of her books, and I don’t believe there’s a “he said” or a “she said” in any of them. Here’s a bit from “The Passion of Mary-Margaret.”
I picked up the pepper shaker. “Isn’t this a little overkill? Out here and all?”
Hattie filled the kettle at the kitchen sink. The rainwater collected in a large cistern at the side of the building. “People keep giving lighthouse items to me. Can you imagine doing the same thing for a person living in a two-story colonial or a rancher?”
“No.” I folded my hands. “So. How’s everything been out here?”
She rested a surprisingly well-manicured hand on her broad hip. You just never knew with Hattie. “A calm year. Mild winter. Not much ice damage. No rescues. Good, I’d say.”
***
And that’s enough for your introduction, except to point out to you (if you haven’t noticed it already) that sometimes a writer’s voice is determined by the way in which she breaks (or bends) the rules. You might want to think about that for a bit.
HOMEWORK:
Please add to the discussion! I’d love any examples you might have of writers with distinct voices. Feel free to post a small, representative excerpt here, along with your thoughts about what characterizes that writer’s voice.
Do you have comments about voice? I’d love to hear them.
Questions about voice? Please let me know; I’ll try to address them in the next few lessons.
Be a Better Writer - Voice Part 2
Be a Better Writer - Voice Part 3