Category: Voice

Critiquing.

We talk about it a lot in writerly circles. The value of having a critique partner or a critique group. The value of getting objective feedback. How it’s a necessary endeavor if we want to grow and succeed as writers.

But that’s not what I want to explore today.

Today, I want to explore that tricky combination of voice and critiquing. I want to explore how we do the latter without diminishing the former. How do we offer critiques, without muting a writer’s voice? How do we receive critiques, without losing that mysterious, beautiful thing that makes us who we are?

When I first started critiquing, I marked people’s manuscripts with ALL kinds of track changes. I’d read sentences or whole paragraphs and think – I know a better way. I thought I was helping the author, and I’m sure some of my comments were helpful. But looking back, a lot of my critiques weren’t about making the story stronger. A lot of my critiques were about making the story sound more like mine.

Here’s the thing. We like our own voice. It’s sort of how, as parents, we look at other kids and secretly think, “My kid’s cuter.” In an objective world, that may not be true, and honestly, how can we compare babies or kids in regards to cuteness? They’re all cute and lovely in their unique way. But we prefer our kid’s face, because it’s familiar and meaningful and part of us. I think that’s the same with voice.

But the more I critiqued, the more I realized it wasn’t my place to change somebody’s voice. Slash unnecessary adverbs, yes. Look for repetitive words and sentence construction, yes. Look for character inconsistencies, plot holes, sagging middles, cliches, head hops, confusing passages. Yes, yes, and yes. But leave voice alone.

Don’t mess with it.

So what should we do in regards to critiquing voice?
Encourage your critique partner to explore it. Encourage him or her to work harder on bringing out his or her voice on the page. But whatever you do, don’t change it to make it sound more like yours.

How do we do this?

Here are two experiences that helped me:

• I once got a paid critique from Camy Tang. She highlighted places in my manuscript where my voice dripped off the page and encouraged me to find ways to bring out that same voice in other areas of the manuscript. She pointed out MY voice and encouraged me to use it more often.

• After one of my books made it through editorial, an editor from the publishing house emailed my agent and told her they were (and still are) excited about the book. They love, love, love the prologue. My voice is engaging and strong. But when chapter one starts, my voice loses its sparkle. This editor encouraged me to make the voice in chapter one truer to the voice in the prologue.

  During a lengthy phone conversation with my agent, I asked, “How in the world do I do this?” and hoped for a concrete answer, but of course she couldn’t give one. Rachelle couldn’t say, “Oh, honey, just cut this adverb here, add a short sentence there, change this verb to that verb, and you’re golden.” Of course she couldn’t. Because voice is all me. It’s something I have to figure out.
  
  She did give me some guidance though. She told me to read the prologue out loud. Get a feel for the mood, the cadence and rhythm. Then go through the first couple chapters of my manuscript and find ways to evoke that same mood. She admitted it wouldn’t be easy. It would involve exploring my thoughts and feelings, looking deep inside, and figuring out what I have to offer the page. It was a very insightful exercise. I’m not sure I got it right, but I do think I learned loads about my voice.

All this to say: When you critique somebody’s work, don’t change things that don’t need changing just because you think it sounds better your way. And when you receive a critique, don’t jump on every suggested change. Take some time. Evaluate the critique. Figure out, is this a voice thing, or is this a craft thing?

Happy critiquing! And thanks to my two fabulous critique partners, Jeannie Campbell and Erica Vetsch for not taking my voice away.

Questions to Ponder: How do you check yourself when you’re critiquing? How do you make sure you’re not changing the writer’s voice? How do you stay true to your voice but listen to feedback? Please share! This is definitely not something I’ve got figured out!

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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?removetweetmeme