We talk about voice a lot as writers. Editors and agents exalt its importance. But what is it, exactly? And how do we find it? For the first two years of my writing journey, I revered voice. I extoled it as the Holy Spirit of writing. This mysterious entity that dwelled inside me. This shapeless, formless thing that would emerge effortlessly as soon as I figured out how to surrender to its power.
I read stuff about voice. It all amounted to something like: To find your writing voice, you must write. Write and write and write. Don’t sensor yourself. Don’t edit. Just write. Pretty soon your natural voice will emerge.
Desperate to find my voice, I tried it. More than once. And each time, I ended up with this mass of….well….word vomit. I would blink at the words on my monitor and worry. Worry that maybe I didn’t have a voice. Or worse, maybe the rambling word vomit was my voice.
Yet, I’ve been told I have a strong voice. I’ve been told my voice is fresh, even captivating. And not from my mother either, but from objective readers. Professionals in the industry. So how can this be? If voice is this natural, inherent thing, and my natural, inherent inclination is to produce humdrum writing, how then, can I possibly have a strong voice?
Here’s my opinion on the matter:
Voice is anything but natural. Anything but inherent. It’s not this magical component of writing that I’ll find if only I write enough. I could write all day and continually produce rambling messes of wasted computer space.
Writing fresh, finding my voice…it’s hard. And time consuming. It doesn’t magically flow from my fingertips as I peck away at my keys. Read my first drafts and you’ll know what I’m talking about. My first drafts are filled with cliches, passive verbs, boring, unoriginal descriptions. This voice readers have praised, this voice readers have commended as strong….it doesn’t come effortlessly. It doesn’t come naturally. It doesn’t come at all. I have to chase it. I have to pull out the pliers and dig so deep into the recesses of my mind that my cognitive fingers come out cramped and slimy. Chasing after my voice, finding a fresh way to write, is exhausting. Even painful.
But oh so worth it.
Take heart when you read something filled with voice. Remember that it probably didn’t just come out that way. Especially not the first time around. It probably took a lot of hard work. Because usually, the writing that’s easiest to read, is the writing that was hardest to write.
Questions to Ponder: What are your thoughts on Voice? Do you agree or disagree with my take on this mysterious component of writing?